A Troubled Crossing

The Creature, spotted in the dark

You peer into the shadows and see nothing but underbrush–or at least what you think is underbrush. You’d almost be convinced it is, except it slopes so much higher than anything around it. You stare intently at it, waiting for your eyes to adjust so you can better make out the details. And in the stillness, you smell it–the faint scent of wet earth and rot.

It begins to lift itself up into a more humanoid form. And yet its outline stays brushy and vaguely defined, like it’s part of the forest. You almost think you’re imagining it until you see the eyes–seven hells, those eyes, peering right at you!–like two massive hot coals.

The Creature, fully visible

In the midst of the forest, you spot a large mound of brush and moss and fungus. It’s the shape of a good-sized boulder, though it would be odd that a boulder would have such fecundity that not an inch of it was visible.

You stare at it for a moment trying to make sense of it, and two sensations come to you in the stillness. One is the faint scent of wet earth and rot. The other is that it does not quite match the forest. There is a damp discoloration to it. Large, wet bugs crawl here and there, and you count a surprising number of mushrooms. It’s what you might find under a rotten log.

Slowly, the mound begins to lift itself up into a more humanoid form. And yet its outline stays brushy and vaguely defined, like it’s still a part of the forest. You almost think you’re imagining it, but you feel like it’s looking at you.

Detect Magic near The Creature

You sense magic vaguely toward [direction]. It’s a strange, rough-hewn feeling, not like the usual clean building-blocks of magic. There’s a taste of enchantment mixed with a flavor of transmutation, an after-taste of conjuration, and just a soupçon of evocation.

It reminds you of when you were an apprentice, trying to learn a new spell. You followed the directions and it worked, but it was so clumsy that it almost felt like a fluke.

Speak with Plant or Animal near The Creature

You close your eyes and fall into a deep trance, seeking to connect with the wildlife nearby.

The voice of the [plant/animal]‘s mind is clear and emphatic, but as you converse you notice your stomach turning–just a bit, but becoming more noticeable by the moment. You shift your focus, trying to figure out what it is. And then it hits you. Underneath the [plant/animal], you hear a gutteral whispering. It’s meaningless gibberish, really–all the more horrifying, given that the spell is supposed to cleanly translate intent.

Introduction

As a citizen of the small kingdom of Fallrest, each of you owe some favor to the Crown. Perhaps a member of the Watch saved your life. Maybe they tipped you off to the quest that cemented your status as a legitimate adventurer-for-hire. Or, maybe they bailed you out–figuratively or literally.

It is rare that the Crown calls in such favors, but it is not unheard of. And yet, you each find yourself in the possession of a surreptitiously-delivered note that does just that.

You have worked quests for the Crown before, but this is different. You are instructed to meet outside the servants’ entrance of Calsley Castle at sundown, and that is where you find yourself now.

Entering the castle

You assumed the “servant’s entrance” bit was just for show; you’ve worked jobs for the Crown before and there’s always a guard to usher you into the open castle gate. But tonight, the gate is shut tight.

A butler quietly opens the door and waves you in. Uou assume this will be like other jobs, where you spend a few minutes in some bureaucrat’s office up front. But tonight, you walk for minutes, up the grand stairs, into a finely decorated hallway, and into a large room. The door shuts behind you.

You see a large fireplace at the far end–lit with a small fire, just enough to guard against the fall chill. In the center is a massive, empty rectangular table. No chairs.

You barely have time to get your bearings when the door opens and shuts again. An older man in a well-tailored shirt, tabard, and pants walks in first, his tabard bearing the seal of the Crown Knights. He’s followed by a dark-haired man wearing a similar uniform with no seals. Both carry a look of concern.

The older man takes a large scroll from under his arm and unfurls it across the table. It’s a map of Fallrest and its neighbors.

They tell you a few things about their request:

• The situation with the Ceothan Empire to the north has become a powder keg, with its attempted expansion into nations to its east and border disputes on trade routes along the Verwall Range.
• Fallrest relies on a patchwork of informants to keep tabs on its neighbors, which is essential to keeping the peace. A sudden blind spot has opened up, putting that peace at risk.
• Some rangers in the imperial village of Krossavik–people whose livelihood depends on roaming the border for hunting, fishing, and trade–passed information to the Crown about happenings on the Ceothan border.
• Both those rangers and the Crown’s messengers sent to meet up with them mysteriously disappeared last week. If the empire was involved, that might be a prelude to war–and if so, Fallrest needs to know as soon as possible.

Entering the castle, continued

• However, they cannot risk official connections to the Crown. Sending Crown Knights across the border or having its Court Magisters scry into imperial territory could provoke a war they don’t want.

Your mission is to discover what happened to the rangers and the Crown’s messengers. If the empire is involved it might signal aggression towards Fallrest. If it is not, then it may be a new threat Fallrest needs to be aware of.

You will join up with a caravan leaving for Oakenminster in the morning. Under the cover of night, the ferryman there will take you to Beauwin Island, where the messengers were to meet up with the hunters at their small hunting lodge.

If it’s secure, the lodge may provide you a comfortable, hidden base of operations. Several canoes are stashed there, should you need to press on to Krossavik or you are unable to signal the ferryman for pickup.

To aid in your quest, they give you the following:

• To identify yourself to the messengers or the hunters, they give you one signet ring. (Ask the players which one of them will take it.)
• A small copy of the map they just showed you.
• Finally, a large pouch of gold coins is pressed into each of your palms. It is enough for any adventuring gear you might need, but they warn you to take care not to flash too much coin around and arouse suspicion.

They reiterate that you cannot under any circumstances be connected to the Crown. To do so would certainly be branded provocation by the empire. Unfortunately, that means you’re on your own; nobody is coming to save you.

The king and the knight stress once again: if you complete this quest, the Crown will owe you a favor.

With that, a retainer leads you back out the servant’s entrance. You get some sleep and join the caravan the next morning.

The caravan arrives

The caravan arrives in Oakenminster in early evening. The wide gravel road lazily winds its way down from the highlands to the shore of Lake Godeset. A minimal wooden gate stands ahead with doors open wide; beyond it rows of buildings are squeezed together along either side of the road. Here and there torches and lanterns flicker to life–not yet needed, but soon. Throngs of people move this way and that between the shops and stalls, and having accomplished its task, the caravan begins to go its separate ways.

Beyond the town, the road curves out of sight beyond all of the buildings. And from the crest of the hill, you see Lake Godeset spreading out beyond that, reflecting the golden evening sky, surrounded by shadowed trees.

The Inn

A three-story inn is the largest building in this small town, though it would probably be fairly unremarkable on the streets of the capital. Two sets of large stairs lead to a wide wooden porch, which seems to encircle the entire building. Rocking chairs, stools, and simple kitchen chairs are scattered about. Several small groups have already settled in for the evening in the cool fall air. A large sign hangs off of the roof featuring a grinning man–conspicuously missing a few teeth–holding a mug of ale and a boat paddle. “The Jolly Oarsman,” it says, in large block letters.

In the common room, there’s even more of a crowd, some of them already deep in their cups. Long tables and benches stretch across the center of the room. Firefly bottles hang on each wooden column providing a warm glow. Rich and poor travelers alike mingle. Raucous laughter and singing echoes. In the back left of the room, a small serving staff runs in and out of a kitchen bringing food and drinks. Scents come and go as they do–rich roasting meat, fresh herbs, beer, and occasionally the sharpness of something a bit stronger. In the back corner of the room, a staircase leads up to what you presume are guest rooms.

Food at the inn

Dinner tonight consists of a hunk of bread and mutton stew made from stock and potatoes. It’s a bit light on meat and other fillings, but the cook has loaded it up with common herbs to make it seem like more. For those wishing to drop more coin, there’s local fish seared on the griddle, and a little butter and honey for the bread. Drinks range from a simple ale–quite affordable in large quantities–to a local fruit wine for the more affluent. For big spenders, there’s a cask of whiskey ferried across the lake from Reistara.

Road to the ferry

Just a short ways up the road going north-east out of town, a cobblestone path winds toward the lake, just as you were told. You pass a few trees, and suddenly you see it: the ferry. It’s a fairly large, flat boat–big enough for a small cart or carriage. A short ramped dock brings you right to its entrance gate. Firefly bottles hang on poles along its railing, casting a faint yellowish-orange light across the deck.

An old bearded man sits on a small stool towards one corner of the deck, puffing on a pipe. Next to him are a very basic sail rigging and a large paddle.

Landing on Beauwin Island

Quickly, the ferryman makes his way around the railing, drawing shades around each bottle to hide the light. It’s not a significant change; the nearly-full moon in a cloudless sky provides almost as much light.

You feel a crisp breeze from the lake. It’s so light as to be nearly imperceptible; only after you got out away from the trees could you really feel it. The lake seems as smooth as glass, except for a few ripples in the reflection of the moon. In the quiet you can hear–and feel, as you board–a rhythmic slosh-slosh, slosh-slosh as the water laps against the boat.

The ferryman quietly breaks from his normal route, slowing the barge and floating into a small forested cove along the nearest island. You get the sense this is second-nature to him, and you soon discover why. As he pulls up under a small outgrowth of overhanging trees, you see a small dock much like the one you left. As you disembark, he gives you a slight nod, closes the gate, and begins paddling out of the cove. “Light a signal fire on this side of the island if you need a pickup. I’ll keep an eye out,” he says.

For a moment, you’re transfixed by the silence; the gentle slosh-slosh, slosh-slosh rhythm you heard on the ferry is still ever-present as the lake laps against the shore. Through the trees, you can barely make out Oakenminster–now a small dot of light–across the water. And you are gripped by the feeling that now, you are well and truly alone.

Trail through the swamp

The land around the dock is low and pocked with dips and rivulets, allowing water to flood in and pool in random spots. It’s inconsistently muddy–some fresh, some a bit older and drier. The trail deeper is not hard to see, but it does require you to carefully pick your footsteps in places.

You place your foot down with a wet squishing sound. Mud, all the way up to your ankle. You wobble, and for a moment it seems like you might hold your balance. But you don’t, and you feel a sudden stab of pain as your ankle twists from the force of your fall.

Trail in the woods, daytime

You make your way up a small hillside out of the swampy area into a large, flat wooded area. The trees and underbrush aren’t particularly dense and the half-empty trees let you see just a bit of the sky.

The forest floor is covered in a blanket of bright, crisp leaves. Under them, you can pick out a well-traveled trail nestled next to a ridge to the west. Up that ridge, you can see where the trees thin out. To the east, there is more forest over gently rolling hills, going on what seems like forever, ending in what seems to be a steep rise. In front of you, the trail continues deeper into the woods, still nestled along the ridge.

Trail in the woods, nighttime

You make your way up a small hillside out of the swampy area into a large, flat wooded area. The trees and underbrush aren’t particularly dense and the half-empty trees let through just a bit of the full moon.

The forest floor is covered in a blanket of bright, crisp leaves. Under them, you can pick out a well-traveled trail nestled next to a ridge to the west. Up that ridge, you can see where the trees thin out. To the east, the woods continue onward, fading into darkness. In front of you, the trail continues deeper into the woods, still nestled along the ridge.

The meadow

Just up a small incline from the trail, you see blue sky and green grass through the treeline. As you top the ridge, you see a wide meadow; far beyond it, the lake and the Ceothan shoreline. It’s wild and untended. Most grass is waist-high or more, but small trails trampled down by wildlife wind across the gently rolling hills. Thorn bushes and small trees dot the landscape, offering a few hiding spots.

The lodge, external

You notice a wooden structure through the trees. As you approach, the underbrush of the forest thin out to a crisp layer of freshly-fallen leaves. Soon, you’re standing in front of what you assume to be the hunting lodge.

It’s a fairly unassuming structure. An elongated rectangle with no windows, a crude foundation of rough stones, and low-quality wood–the type you’d see on a barn. The roof is plain and utilitarian–no overhangs, no decorative flourishes, just a simple angled roof to keep rain from collecting.

Not far behind the lodge, you see the shoreline of the lake and some other wooden structures.

Trails from the lodge

In front of the lodge, you can make out a large worn dirt area under all of the leaves. It looks as if it might be used as a general work space for tasks that require a lot of room. Tracing the edge of it, you see it connects several trails–the main trail back to where you were dropped off, a smaller trail towards the shore to the north, and a rough trail winding off to the east, toward a ridge in the distance.

The porch

As you step up onto the small porch, you notice a set of long scrapes in the wood, as if something heavy was dragged between the steps and the door.

The door opens

You push the door open, revealing a smudge of dried blood across the entryway–as if someone swiped their bloody hands or arms across the floor–and a pungent wet, rotting odor. A moment later you see why–a body lies collapsed at the foot of the nearest bunk, hunkered down as if it was hiding from something at the door. It clutches a polearm. The skin on its upper torso is worn–far more than you’d expect from a week’s worth of decay–as is its leather and cloth gear. Only the metallic bits of its weapon, armor, and clothes still hold their shape, though they are caked in dirt.

Into the lodge

The inside of the lodge is as utilitarian as the outside. A hearth is built into the short wall near the door, made of the same crude stonework as the foundation. Nearby, there’s a large table with several chairs. The far half of the lodge is lined with bunks, made of the same crude wood as the outside. Dingy green blankets cover each bed.

Strikingly, the lodge feels like it’s still in use. The hearth still has ash and half-burnt firewood. Chairs are pulled out from the table as if someone just got up. Two backpacks lean up against the wall, along with some old rusty tools. Plates of half-eaten food sit in front of chairs. Four beds are turned down, as if they’ve recently been slept in.

Approaching the dock

You hop down a short trail at the back of the lodge, and soon you’re on a small sandy patch of beach. The water laps lazily at the shore and an old wooden dock juts out into the lake. Tucked off behind some bushes, there is a rack with two canoes and some oars. A small fishing boat with a sail is tied to one of the poles of the dock, offering something slightly larger and more efficient than a canoe. On the far end of the beach, you see a canoe laying sideways, partially washed up in the shallows.

The water here is smooth and relatively shallow, a narrow channel between the island and the Ceothan mainland. The other shoreline would be a short trip by boat from this end of the island, but this spot is particularly advantageous as a landing. Across the channel from the dock, a rocky, unforested peninsula juts out into the lake making the crossing almost trivial. You can see that it has a similar dock attached to it.

Inside the canoe

Upon closer inspection, it seems as if the canoe has been badly damaged. Large ruts mar the gunwales, so numerous that they criss-cross, and so deep they couldn’t have been made by the stony beach. Inside the canoe, there seems to be the remains of a body and adventuring gear, but it’s barely recognizable as such. Only the metal seems to be intact. Around it, you also notice that the wood of the canoe is worn and decayed, and you smell an earthy, rotting scent.

Heading east into the woods

As you make your way east, you notice hunting traps set up here and there off of a rough spur trail. Some are cages for small game baited with food. Others are better hidden–tripwires that lead who knows where, ropes suspended from trees, netting barely visible through the blanket of leaves.

You note that several of these traps have been sprung. Most are empty; some look as if they haven’t been checked in some time.

A massive trap

Further down the trail, you spot something that unnerves you. It’s a net trap suspended from a tree with rope, and it would be normal other than what it’s made with. The net is larger than the others–it appears to be a repurposed fishing net. Not one, but two, ropes are braided together, running up to a large branch on a massive tree. The rock that serves as the counterweight would require two hands to lift.

Whatever they were attempting to trap, it is far larger game than what you would expect in woods like these.

The upward climb

Moving further down the trail, you see that the steep rise turns out to be a ridge that runs along the west side of the island. Following the trail along the edge of the hillside, you eventually run into a turn that climbs the ridge.

The path runs up along the side of the steep ridge, clearly moving up in a series of switchbacks. It’s not horribly steep–the path seems to have been deliberately built to avoid a tricky, strenuous climb–but it is a bit long.

It’s also clearly human-built; some of its switchbacks have a few boards (which appear the same as those in the hunting lodge) dug in as a sort of makeshift retaining wall.

Those of you who spend a lot of time outdoors notice something interesting–the switchbacks seem carefully designed to keep you behind the treeline. As you approach each switchback, you can see the lake–deep green with flashes of reflecting light–through the trees below you. There’s no reason the trail couldn’t extend around the ridge, so it seems intentionally built to avoid prying eyes.

As you make another lap around the switchbacks, the way starts getting rockier. You begin to find yourself climbing here and there as much as walking. At last you reach a relatively flat shelf of rock running along part of the ridgeline. Rocky bluffs jut out of the ridgeline here and there forming crevices enough to take shelter in, while smaller rocks provide a gentle climb up to the top.

Arriving at the top

You arrive at the top of one of the highest boulders on the ridge, your arms and legs slightly shaky from exertion and constant balancing. And now you see why this island was so useful. Standing above the treeline and many smaller islands, you can see a wide swath of Lake Godeset and both shores. Very little would escape notice here.

The bluffs in front of you are rocky and uneven. If you don’t watch your step, you might even fall into one of the crevices you saw below. Smaller boulders dot the landscape, providing cover. Tucked behind a small arch, you see the remains of a small fire pit. Further out, you see a small climbable path that runs down between two larger boulders.

Arriving at the cave

You work your way down the small stair-like path in this cleft of rock. The steps are much smaller than your earlier climb up and the walls of rock make it easier to steady yourself. The trail empties you out onto a small ledge dotted with scrub. On your right, a steep hillside would send you tumbling down the ridge; on the left, intertwining boulders form a wide cave just tall enough to walk into. It’s somewhat cozy, though as you survey the area around the cave you notice a few small animal skeletons, and a faint earthy, rotten smell.

The cave interior

The cave extends about 60 feet back and fans out from 20 feet at the entrance to 40 feet at its widest point. Not far inside, a large, spiky clump of something is scattered down a wall and across part of the cave floor. Your eyes adjust, and you feel a knot in your stomach before you fully grasp what it is. It’s a carcass, big enough to be a bear’s, laying haphazardly as if it was dragged here and there before coming to rest. It’s mostly clean, and what’s left is decayed in some places but fairly fresh in others.

Landing in the empire

A short boat ride across the channel, and you’re now on the Ceothan mainland. You’d swear your oars touched the bottom of the channel multiple times through the journey. A flat beach juts off one side of the peninsula; there’s plenty of room to drag a canoe safely out of sight. An empty dock provides rigging for larger boats.

The woods here are thicker than on the island. Dark, mossy patches of pine and cedar are interspersed with deciduous trees. The trail works its way across rolling hills, with small, unkempt spurs jutting off here and there. Soon, it joins up with a dirt road.

Entering the village

The rural village of Krossavik sits not far from the edge of the forest, almost like an entryway to the plains. A large arch made out of smooth, curved pieces of wood forms a gate across the road; across the rooftops, you can see similar arches at what you presume are other roads.

The village seems a bit quaint; no walls surround the city and the roads and pathways between houses and villages are fairly haphazard. But the streets are alive with livestock, traders’ carts, and artisans.