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Fralex
2022-08-17, 07:48 PM
Owing to the fact that our DM is really good at GMing, our play group had steadily expanded until he finally just went, "you know, maybe 14 PCs is a bit much for one campaign. Let's split into an afternoon group and an evening group, so every combat doesn't last over an hour and we no longer violate the bookstore's fire codes." This has ended up working out quite well, and has continued as we transitioned to an online group. Sometimes he runs the same campaign for both groups, with the actions in each carrying consequences for both parties, and sometimes he'll run two entirely different games, then we swap when we're finished and he runs them again.

An accidental benefit of this is that, when he first ran The Wild Beyond the Witchlight for the group I am not in, he found himself disappointed in how linear and, at times, half-baked the story was and decided that, when he ran it for our group, he'd find some way to make it more to his sandboxy tastes. Bring the faction play to the forefront, and make our goals more clear from the get-go.

And so was born...

The Wild Beyond the Witchlight Remastered
⋅ • 🦋 • ⋅
"2 Wild, 2 Witchlight"


As of this writing we are four sessions in, and I'm enjoying it immensely.

I hope you do, too.

As this is a group that evolved out of what was originally an organized play setup at a bookstore, we tend to be pretty fast and loose about player attendance. Some people (like myself) show up for every session, others are more busy and only show up occasionally. We just don't really worry about it. I will make note of which players were around and which weren't as it becomes relevant.

That said, the full roster consists of (as submitted by each player at the start):

Galvyn Murdoch
Half-elf Ranger
- Has an air of curmudgeonliness so powerful flowers slowly wilt in its presence
- Seems to bear a strong grudge against archfey for unknown reasons
- [The character I am playing]

Sebastien Dewpine
Halfling Rogue
- Childish and whimsical despite his aged appearance.
- Styles himself as a P.I. and sleuth, but he is not entirely sure what either of those are.

Acrobat
Centaur Warlock
- Got her twin sister Flash fired from the town guard
- Definitely not conspiring with Pazuzu to open up portals between realms

Flash
Centaur Paladin
- Got her twin sister Acrobat fired from the local crime syndicate
- Servant of Helm oath of the watcher in order to prevent planar incursions
-

[B]Hwyadin
Fairy Bard
- [Fond of running duck-themed games at the Witchlight Carnival involving the trading of minor magical items]
- [Player did not put a character summary into the discord so I'm just doing my best here based on what I've seen]

Iris
Owlin Sorcerer
- [Friendly and easy to get along with]
- [Player also still hasn't posted her character summary, hopefully I can get it eventually]

Fralex
2022-08-17, 09:10 PM
Session 1

☞ In which our heroes attend a carnival with questionable safety regulations ☜
☞ A fairy godmother is found to be in peril ☜
☞ A funhouse mirror proves not very fun at all ☜
☞ The circus has to sell us to a witch but feels really bad about it ☜


⋅ • 🦋 • ⋅



I can't believe I'm doing this.

But I needed to find that world again. Pay it one last visit.

So it was that I found myself in a giant pumpkin-house along with five other travelers, where a retired warlock in the service of an archfey named Zyblina gave us a mission: His mistress had been making strange requests lately. Become even more reclusive, begun asking for suspicious reagents a kindly fairy godmother like her certainly would have no use for. We would need to find a Fey Crossing into the mystical Feywild to investigate. Luckily, there should be such a crossing hidden somewhere in the magical Witchlight Carnival that passes from world to world, and it had stopped by our land recently. He handed us each tickets and sent us on our way.

"Us," for convenient reference, consisted at this point of:
☞ Sebastian Dewpine, Halfling PI
☞ Hwyadin, a fairy working part-time at the Witchlight Carnival with a fondness for duck-themed games
☞ Iris, an owlin wild mage
☞ The centaur twins Flash and Acrobat, specialists in defending against/consorting with beings beyond the veil, respectively
☞ Myself, Galvyn Murdoch, a half-elf with a LOT of baggage against the "Fair Folk"


I don't think any of these goobers understand just how dangerous the fey can be. A carnival run by them is an obvious recipe for disaster, and I made it my goal to keep them safe, despite their complete lack of sensible paranoia. We'd barely stepped inside before they were being handed dandelions and told to make a wish, which several of them did, completely heedless of the many, many accounts of this exact sort of thing blowing up in the wisher's face! Flash just ate hers while wishing for it to be tasty, which I... guess is fine?? I glared at my flower until it wilted in my grasp.

In an effort to determine exactly how much danger we were in, I joined a cupcake-eating contest, hoping to sample the food and determine if it was cursed. But then the others joined in alongside me, completely ignoring my warnings not to eat until I'd tried one! ARGH. I managed to slip away before it started and scarf one down ahead of time, and luckily it didn't carry any of the telltale signs of Fairy Food, but still! It might've!

Oh, and I still had to go back and join the regular contest, which wasn't all that hard for me, but my heart just wasn't in it and I gave it up halfway through. Flash won in the end, managing to eat 17 whole cupcakes before her last opponent dropped out. They gave her another cupcake as a prize, one imbued with invisibility magic.

On our way back from the contest, we stopped by a carousel, run by a glum-looking centaur who introduced herself as Diana Cloppington. She confided in us that she was not always a centaur; a hag with a cruelly-ironic sense of humor granted a wish she'd made to be "reunited with her horse" and this was the result. I had to know who'd done this to her, but she'd also been cursed not to say the name... but, she whispered, motioning at her carousel's wooden unicorns, "they can."

Half the unicorns' nametags were faded, and we needed to work out what each one was called by solving a series of riddles. When we finished, Diana gave us all a free ride on the carousel, and the unicorns sang in our heads:


Zyblina, Queen of Prismeer, has been frozen in time. In her place, three hags have taken over her domain.


We further learned that these hags, named Bavlorna Blightstraw, Skabatha Nightshade, and Endelyn Moongrave, formed a pact called the Hourglass Coven, though each mistrusts the other two. One of them cursed Diana. I promised her vengeance.

Of course, we still had to find a way into the Feywild first. I shared what I knew about fey crossings, that they typically could be found in liminal spaces like in the surface of certain ponds or behind the reflection of certain mirrors, so investigating the Hall of Illusions seemed like a good place to start.

As we approached, a halfling couple emerged, male and female. The man got down on one knee and proposed to the woman, but before she could respond she was overcome with laughter, causing him to run back into the Hall in tears. Suspiciously, there was a mannequin by the entrance dressed up like the wizard Tasha, "Known for her Hideous Laughter."

This was obviously yet more stupid fey mind games, which I was already at my limit for. The mannequin tried to overwhelm us with mirth, too, but I held on to my grumpiness and stabbed its head off with my rapier.

Unfortunately this attracted the attention of Burly, the bugbear head of security, and I ran into the Hall to hide. The others managed to smooth things over with him, and in doing so he mentioned that the carnival owners, Mister Witch and Mister Light, had been acting odd lately and seemed to be having troubles, though he's not sure what. He suggested we talk to Light when Witch won't be around, during the event at the big top tonight.

Just inside the Hall of Illusions, we found a mute clown named Candlefoot.

Through extensive pantomime we eventually worked out that he'd been able to talk a few weeks ago, but had his voice stolen by a "small, evil bird" that had been causing trouble throughout the park.

Further inside, we caught up to the halfling man, sobbing in front of one of the mirrors. Slowly, a creepy doll-like figure wearing a pig's head emerged from it, reaching out to pull him in. I tackled her to the ground, but before we could do anything else, she cackled and we were all incapacitated with more magical laughter, and she escaped back into the mirror. We couldn't follow, but were able to just make out, on the other side, an eerie scene of her running across a bridge in a swamp littered with heads on pikes. Frog heads, but the size of human heads. Then the image faded.

We comforted the halfling man, explaining that his lady friend wasn't really laughing at him, and he said that the girl in the mirror was whispering things to him, telling him to give in to the despair of rejection. According to Candlefoot, two others have disappeared here. Scanning the area for magic, we found faint illusion on all the mirrors (which made each person's reflection appear older or younger than it really was), but sure enough, the one the pig-girl went through had a strong aura of conjuration. We had found our portal. Now we just needed a way through.

On a side note, when leaving the Hall of Illusions, some people noticed an odd thing about my reflection: In the mirrors that were ensorcelled to reflect the subject's younger self, not only did I look significantly less-grumpy, I was not a half-elf at all.

I was just an ordinary human.

So we'd found the fey crossing. But we still didn't know how to cross it. Going off the swampy-looking world on the other side, we thought maybe there would be clues in the carnival's pond, where visitors could ride giant dragonflies. But as we approached, we heard screaming. A dwarf was attempting to ride his mount, but the harness had been cut in several places and he was hanging off the giant insect by one foot. Acrobat leapt on another dragonfly and caught him before he fell, and I noticed a small, humanoid raven skitter away from the crowd.

She was quick, but I was quicker. The kenku, who we later learned was named Kettlesteam, explained —in a voice that didn't sound like her own— that this carnival was really dangerous, which, I mean, YES, FINALLY, someone who gets it, but also wasn't she just making everything worse? Apparently she was hoping if it got bad enough someone would finally shut this place down (she was going to catch that dwarf if we hadn't). You see, a while back, she overheard something between the two masters. She recited the exchange in their voices:

Light: Someone is going to find out about this! They'll shut us down!
Witch: We agreed to this pact. Our hands were forced but our eyes were open. We let the Hourglass Coven take what it wants, and in return, we stay in business. That is what you want, right?


She had stolen Candlefoot's voice to work more effectively, but she promised to return it to him if we promised to figure out what was wrong with Zyblina, whom she is a warlock of. She's sure the masters know something they aren't telling us. And the grand extravaganza, the only time they are apart, is beginning soon...

We split into two teams, each planning to confront one of the masters. Acrobat, Sebastian, and Hwyadin would meet with Light in the Bigtop, while Flash, Iris, and I would sneak into Witch's wagon.

In the wagon, we found the dapper, dour Mister Witch leaning over his desk, poring over his ledger and repeatedly checking an odd pocketwatch, oblivious to our presence. I snuck a look at it, and it's definitely some sort of timepiece, but it's doing a lot more than meets the eye. And that ledger wasn't tracking expenses, but favors. It had things like, Another two have gone missing, need to look away again.

As we watched, he began writing down another entry: A bunch of snoops will come tonight. Give them to me.

Uh-oh.

~

Meanwhile, in the bigtop, Candlefoot made a big splash by using his newly-returned voice to propose to the mermaid he'd been pining after, and the feeling was mutual. In the chaos of the proposal, the other team went backstage and found Mister Light, with his characteristic whimsy and ridiculous jester garb. As soon as Hwyadin brought up the creature in the mirror, he dropped all cheer and got very serious:

Light: If all of you know what's best for you you're just going to go back to enjoying a wonderful night! You don't. Want. To get. Involved.
Hwyadin: Pumpkin-Face sent us. We know something's wrong with Ziblina. We're already involved.
Light: ...Bavlorna's come for you. She gave your descriptions very clearly. The six of you were going to be here tonight, with counterfeit tickets, and by the arrangement of our pact, we had to give you in. But listen... There's magic in this carnival. Magic that can help you on the other side. The more magic you can turn up here, the more we can help you there.


~

Mister Witch had found us hiding in his study.

Witch: ...Can I help you?
Me: It seems to me we have a prior appointment.
Witch: Yes. She's going to be here soon. I will stall her. Bavlorna, the weakest of the three, will take you into her service. She cannot harm you while you are in her service. Take advantage of that.
Me: Oh believe me, I will...
Witch: The protection goes away if you harm her.
Me: ...never mind.
Witch: In the hours you have left here. If you partake in the events of this carnival, they have a thaumaturgical transfusion into the Feywild.
Me: I'm... not really a carnival person...
Witch: IT COULD SAVE YOUR LIFE, MAN.
Iris: Aha! Come with me! I know all about having fun at carnivals!
Witch: I can keep you safe until the carnival ends. Until then, HAVE FUN. I command it.


⋅ • 🦋 • ⋅


The whole "counterfeit tickets" plot is the first major change to the original adventure. According to the DM, if the players don't find the way into the Feywild fast enough, you're just supposed to have Ellywick Tumblestrum (https://www.tcgplayer.com/product/242777/magic-adventures-in-the-forgotten-realms-ellywick-tumblestrum?Language=English) from Magic: the Gathering show up and make them do it.

Instead, we've already broken the rules of the carnival from the moment we step inside, and according to the arcane rules of the fey currently in charge, the punishment for trespassing will be servitude to the hags, which does seem to be a much more elegant fallback solution to make sure the players end up part of the main plot.

Fralex
2022-08-17, 10:21 PM
Session 2

☞ In which our heroes attempt to escape their fate ☜
☞ Galvyn reveals his history with the Hourglass Coven ☜
☞ Rollercoaster-nightmare-therapy turns out to be exactly as terrible an idea as it sounds ☜
☞ A very small, very French dragon presents an opportunity for networking ☜


⋅ • 🦋 • ⋅



Note: Only four players were present for this session- Acrobat the centaur warlock, Hwyadin the fairy bard, Iris the owlin sorcerer, and myself.

The Bigtop extravaganza was ramping up to its grand finale. Mister Light invited anyone in the audience with a talent to come up and show off. We turned to Acrobat, who sheepishly admitted she... didn't actually know any acrobatics. Of course, there is still one impressive, physics-defying trick any centaur player character knows: Climbing a ladder despite having an entire horseworth of hindquarters dangling awkwardly behind! Everyone was very impressed by this feat of upper-body strength, and the crowd went wild.

The Witchlight masters would only be able to delay our capture as long as the carnival kept going, and although it was past midnight by this point, the show wouldn't truly be over until dawn, when the "Witchlight Monarch" would be crowned, out of all attendees present. Then, our lives would belong to Bavlorna.

Acrobat: I don't know, maybe it won't be so bad?
Me: W... WON'T BE SO BAD!? BEING TAKEN AWAY BY AN ARCHFEY!? Trust me, we can NOT let her capture us.
Hwyadin: You sound like you have personal experience with this...
Me: So... You've heard the stories, right? About how the archfey like to snatch away mortals they find interesting?

I pulled out a worn lyre.

Me: Well, let's just say I used to be a very "interesting" musician. The Gentry of the Feywild... they don't see mortals as people. At best, we're amusements for them, playthings to boast about to their rivals. I escaped them once. I'm not letting any of you go through what I did. We're getting out of here.

The carnival masters' protection would be forfeit as soon as we left the grounds, so escape on foot wouldn't be an option. Our only chance would be to flee where they weren't expecting: Right into the Plane of Faerie itself.

We knew about the fey crossing in the Hall of Illusions, but we'd made no progress in opening the passage through. It was time to get bolder.

Hwyadin set up one of her signature duck-themed carnival games, which she helpfully rigged in our favor to win us a pig doll. With some clever modifications, it bore a striking resemblance to the creepy girl we'd caught passing through the mirror earlier. We hid ourselves around the the locked portal, and Iris used mage hand to bang the doll against the glass. Soon, a fuzzy image of the pig-headed girl approached from the other side. We could just make out a muffled, irritated voice.

Pig Girl: It's so hazy, I can't see you very well. Did you forget the password again?
Iris: Mmffhhhmm! Wmhmsst?
Pig Girl:[Pokes her head through] It's "Fiddlehead Fern"— CRAP, it's you

She retreated back into the mirror before we could grab her, but now we had an exit strategy ready! Just to even the odds, I rigged a trap that would ensnare anyone passing through once I set the final cord in place. But we weren't about to leave just yet. Mister Witch and Mister Light had advised us that exploring the activities at the carnival would provide us with critical magic we'd need on the other side, and there were still a good number of hours until sunrise. It was time for some carnival fun.

We approached a fake cave with a minecart rail leading into the mouth. "You there! You there! Unlock the mysteries of your mind... in the Mystery Mine!!" A dwarf in a floppy wizard hat beckoned us. He introduced himself as Zephixo, and bid us each to gaze into his "All-Seeing Eye." I was glad I didn't, because each time one of the others did, their deepest fear was revealed to everyone around them. Iris saw a lonely, dusty grave —her grave— lost and forgotten, with nobody to tell her story. Hwyadin saw herself as a disappointment to her whole family, crying in a corner surrounded by ducks as their disapproving shadows loomed over her. And Acrobat saw herself chained up in the deepest, darkest dungeon, her own twin sister the warden, their relationship ruined.

Zephixo: Oh. Wow. Usually it's just, like, owlbears or something. Uhhhh... how about I give you all a free ride?

We then proceeded to have the worst carnival experience to date.

The minecart took us through a hellish, phantasm-filled demiplane where all the fears we'd just revealed to the orb were made manifest in a churning, nightmarish medley. We came out even more traumatized than before. Acrobat had it especially bad (failed all three Wisdom saves).

Acrobat: [Grabs Zephixo by the shoulders] WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS RIDE
Zephixo: Uh, well, talk to you later! [casts dimension door and vanishes]
Me: ...Alright, that's it. I'm taking that nightmare orb.

And I thought the Tasha mannequin outside the Hall of Illusions was bad. This thing DEFINITELY had to go. I stashed the "All-Seeing Eye" in my pack while the others replaced it with a similar-looking decoration from the Cyclops Staring Contest Booth. The carnival masters were right— there is some useful magic here for us to take with us!

Seeking more lighthearted fare, we visited the Pixie Kingdom, where we were shrunken down into a miniature version of the carnival. In a hide-and-seek game, we won some tiny windup backpacks that would let us fly if we shrunk ourselves down to this size again with the pixie dust provided.

But the real attraction was the Ferris wheel powered by a hamster. The hamster —named Biscuit— was awakened, and he had a lot to share with us about the carnival.

Asked about Witch and Light, he assured us that "They do the hard work keepin' this place runnin'; they gave up a lot, made tough choices, and bore the brunt of the consequences."

On the Mystery Mine: "...Zephixo tries real hard. But it's like when you take one psych class in wizard college, and think you know everything. He thinks you need to face your trauma to grow as a person and, well. It's the most screwed-up thing you ever seen."

Finally, we asked about the Hourglass Coven's kidnappings. "Oh, yeah, you see it from time to time. Often it's just a couple of kids tryin' to sneak in with fake tickets. Real sad. Usually, Skabatha gets 'em."

Has anyone ever escaped? "Well, I heard one guy escaped. Some bard. Don't know his story, though, just rumors..." The others looked at me askance.

Me: Alright, it's true. It was Endelyn Moongrave who took me away. The thing about her is, she's a lot less... present... than the other hags. She has the gift of prophecy, and usually her mind is off in the future. I saw an opportunity and took it. Her realm is a lot less-isolated than most, and on a mountain were a set of mystical torches that could send you to other planes. I managed to get them to activate, and they brought me back.

I didn't know much about evading the other two, but we'd need to take advantage of their vices, and look patiently for opportunities. It's not easy to escape one of the archfey, but it is possible. And I'm going to do it again.

I wanted to update Kettlesteam on what we'd found out about Ziblina and the Hourglass Coven, so we sought her out at the lost property wagon. There we found an enormous panther with two tentacles coming out of its back, play-fighting with two young boys. She introduced herself as Dirlagraun, and told us she had something we'd lost, gesturing at the little kenku warlock.

When asked how often people come back for their stuff, she grew sad and sighed, "Yes, many things get lost and never return here. It's a sad story..." Before she could elaborate, one of the boys she was minding grabbed a mirrored ball on a shelf, and ran when she gave an uncharacteristic snarl. I chased after him, at her request, and brought him and the ball back to Dirlagraun

Dirlagraun: I'm sorry, this ball is all I have to remember my cub.
Me: Your cub?
Dirlagraun: Remember how I said things go missing? He went... Star is his name... somehow he crossed into the Feywild... He's been lost ever since.
Me: ...Sometimes lost things come back. Not always the same, but they come back.
Dirlagraun: You've been there?!

At this, she handed me Star's ball, pleading me to find him. I promised.

We updated Kettlesteam on what we knew, and she was very disturbed. She didn't have much to give us, but warned us that, with Ziblina frozen in time, she wouldn't be able to enforce the usual laws of reciprocity in Prismeer. Rules about not stealing, always returning favors, and maintaining the rites of hospitality might be looser now.

~

We spent our last hours out on the Silversong lake, where Palasha the mermaid thanked us for bringing her and Candlefoot together, teaching us a song for our efforts, and Feathereen the sapient gondola swan gave us a ride while debating temporal metaphysics. I mean, time is kinda subjective, isn't it? I often get the sense that important events wait until we're there to see them before they happen. And hours where nothing important happens seem to go by so much quicker!

Apparently Feathereen often talks philosophy with Burly the guard. She mentioned that he had a brother, too, but he went in the Hall of Illusions one day... and never came out.

The sun was starting to rise.

Everyone headed back to the bigtop for the grand finale, the crowning of the Witchlight Monarch. This coveted honor would only be bestowed upon someone who epitomized the carnival and everything joyful about it, so I figured I was out of the running. Besides, I had... other plans. I left them to their fun and headed for the pond.

Inside the bigtop, Palasha and Candlefoot sang a moving love duet. At its close, Thaco the clown brought out a crown made of butterflies as Mister Light held his weathervane-wand high. Golden tendrils of light curled out, weaved over the crowd, before finally entwining around Iris. The Witchlight Carnival had its new Monarch. The circus was drawing to a close.

Light lead the crowd, Iris at the head, in a grand march around the carnival grounds as the calliope played its closing number.

It was then that a massive toad mouth opened up out of the ground in front of them, and a hideous, froglike old witch, like something straight out of a Ghibli film, emerged from it. "HALT," it commanded.

Bavlorna Blightstraw had come for us.

Luckily, so did I.

While everyone else was in the bigtop, I'd snuck down to the dragonfly-riding pond and made off with one of the insectile steeds. Loops of rope dangling from the sides, I swooped in low and all the others grabbed on.

All the others... except Iris, who was stuck at the front of the line and still trying to get all her ducks together. Some inspiring words from Hwyadin helped me maneuver down to her again and helped her to make the leap, and together we brought our dragonfly careening into the entrance to the Hall of Illusions.

Bavorna donned aviator goggles and gave chase on a flying lilypad, but the dragonfly was just nimble enough to stay ahead of her. As we approached the final mirror, I shouted, "FIDDLEHEAD FERN!" and gave my trap one final tug to arm it.

The bug crashed into the frame of the mirror while we tumbled through it and a net dropped down on Bavlorna. As we fell through the misty gateway, we could just hear her enraged screams from the other side: "WITCH! LIGHT! YOU FOOLS! COME HITHER, YOU BIG OAFS!"

The first thing we noticed was the croaking.

We were in a vast marsh at twilight, and from every corner came the sonorous breerps and roggits of thousands of frogs. It was a cacophony. We had emerged on a massive stone bridge, with several insurmountable gaps throughout. Across the land below, curious stone pipes belched out bubbles of marsh gas, and a crumbling stone tower, leaning such that it looked as if it would keel over at any moment, slouched in the distance.

We had come Hither.

As we clambered down the side of the broken bridge, we began to hear some sort of marching tune coming down the river, something about beating people up and stealing their clothes. Soon we were confronted by a gang of harrengons, rabbit-folk with clubs, slings, and a large pack-snail. The leader introduced herself as a lieutenant of the Adgong Longscarf Band, and demanded we each surrender a memory of the most cherished gift we'd ever received. But then she looked closer at us, particularly Iris.

Lieutenant: Wait, is that the Witchlight Monarch?!
Me: Look, if you want our memories, by all means, fight us. But we'll definitely kill at least a few of you. Feeling lucky?
Lieutenant: Heheheh... you've just opened up our ULTIMATE ATTACK! [flees in terror]

Taking their pack-snail, we headed for the slanty tower. A hot-air balloon had crashed and gotten caught on it, and the two members of our party with wings flew up to investigate. A tiny French accent accosted them: "My name is Sir Talavar, Loyal Servant of de Summer Queen! I am in de middle of a daring escape from Bavlorna! My pilot, de poor Wigglewog, perished with honor! I am trapped with said pilot's corpse, and would really like to be anywhere else!"

Investigating the basket, they found the remains of a humanoid frog, and a silver cage holding a tiny faerie dragon with a sword, goatee, and uncomfortably-human face. Like, um, I'm just gonna put the picture here, this guy looks really weird:

https://mygamenightblog.files.wordpress.com/2021/11/sir-talavar-full.jpg?w=400

Sorry.

Apparently he'd been sent to find out why Ziblina had stopped returning the Summer Queen's calls, and came here only to find "a wretched swamp and a frog lady trying to eat me." She'd captured him in a cage, but the bullywug Wigglewog took pity on him and they tried to escape together in one of Bavlorna's hot-air balloons.

Sir Talavar: From de bottom of my 'eart, I thank you! Summer Queen, she thanks you from 'er bottom as well! I will tell 'er of your plight when I get back, for you cannot escape this realm now that you are within de Mists! You will need to 'ave de knowledge of 'ow to pass through them imparted to you by a being of great power, like my mistress!

He gave us a few more tips on this realm before leaving, pointing out the lands to the north as dangerous, holding both the Longscarf Band's hideout as well as the cottage of Bavlorna herself. The two safest locations he knew of were both mobile; one a small mountain with elf shoes called Telemy Hill, the other some sort of traveling inn.

With the walking hill the only location we could make out at this distance, we began heading east, alone save for the ever-present burbling of the frogs.


⋅ • 🦋 • ⋅


That Mystery Mine Ride is comically lethal. According to the official adventure, a character that fails all three Wisdom saves is "haunted by nightmares for 1d8 days. Until the nightmares end, the character must succeed on a DC 12 Wisdom saving throw after finishing a long rest or gain 1d3 levels of exhaustion." Our DM said he'd work something else out.

Our DM is from Canada, and does a very good "stereotypical French swashbuckler" accent.

We all reached level 2 at the end of this session. We're going to get a level any time we discover a new area (Hither, in this case), defeat one of the coven hags, or forge an alliance with one of them or another powerful archfey. For example, freeing Talavar has improved our reputation with the Summer Queen one stage, and our ranking with Bavlorna is... well. It's bad. Screw her, though.

Fralex
2022-08-17, 11:07 PM
Session 3

☞ In which our heroes pay the Longscarf Band a visit ☜
☞ Coven politics and courtly romance abound ☜
☞ Galvyn has a late-night snack ☜


⋅ • 🦋 • ⋅



Note: Only four players were present for this session- Acrobat the centaur warlock, Hwyadin the fairy bard, Iris the owlin sorcerer, and myself.

A continuous tide of croaking washed over our ears. Fat, drippy flies buzzed lazily overhead. Huge bubbles of unpleasant-looking gases drifted dangerously-close, just begging for us to pop one by mistake. And all around, the warm, sticky mist ebbed and flowed, making it impossible to tell if the shapes we saw moving within were really there, or just our imaginations.

The bright, green searchlight was definitely real, though.

It thrust out of the mist, emanating from a hot-air balloon shrouded in the fog. It was hard to make out much detail, but it appeared to be piloted by frogs, wearing disproportionately-elegant uniforms right out of the Age of Exploration.

And they were searching for something very intently.

Iris pulled up blankets of peat to hide under, while I channeled my connection to nature and summoned additional fog around us, and after a few tense minutes, the ballooners passed us by without any suspicion.

There was a rumble and a squelch, and off in the distance we saw a mountain rumbling through the marsh on many curly, clog-clad feet.

Clinging to our pilfered pack-snail as it slowly inched up one of the hill's legs, we climbed above the stifling humidity and smelled, for the first time in what felt like ages, crisp, fresh, mountain air, lightly tinged with the scent of apricot. And that's when the trees started talking.

Trees: WELCOME, SNAIL-RIDERS, TO TELEMY HILL. WHAT BUSINESS BRINGS YOU HERE?
Acrobat: Sanctuary.
Trees: DARK DAYS THESE ARE IF SANCTUARY IS WHAT YOU SEEK. LOOK AROUND YOU, DO YOU SMELL THE BEAUTY OF THIS HILL? THIS WHOLE LAND WAS ONCE LIKE THIS. NOW IT IS ONLY MARSH AND FROG AND FLY AND DIN AND ICHOR— WOOP, HOLD ON, FRIENDS

The ground shook, and the gigantic stone pipes scattered throughout the marshland below began spewing water, until every river and pond was flooded enough to cover the whole realm. The trees observed that the hags must be searching furiously, but assured us that "TELEMY HILL IS SAFETY TO ALL WHO APPRECIATE BEAUTY." They advised us to meet with another "friend to the trees," a goblin named Jingle living in a keyhole-shaped cave further up the hill.

Inside the cave, there were keys everywhere. Dangling from every bit of wall or ceiling it was possible to affix a hook or some string to. And there, in the middle, was a shy, yet cheerful little goblin wearing armor made of interlocking keys and wielding a flail of padlocks.

Delighted to learn we'd faced the Longscarf Band before, and robbed the robbers themselves, she asked for us to go on a little quest for her. Bandit leader Adgong Longscarf had stolen one of Jingle's most special keys: the key to her fridge. And there was some yogurt in there that she'd feel guilty about letting go bad. In exchange for that, she'd give us a very rare key: a copy of the key to Bavlorna's own hut.

Agreeing to her deal, we set out for Brigand's Tollway.

Leaving the relative safety of Telemy Hill and returning to the flooded, squelching wetlands below was not fun. The waters had not risen so high as to drown us, but were just deep enough to soak our boots and make traveling north annoying. Luckily, we stumbled upon a raft we could use to skim the scummy floodwaters while drying off as much as was possible in the humid air. Hours later, we arrived at the network of wooden docks the harrengon robbers called their hometown.

We had gone through several plans for infiltration into the lion's (bunny's) den, but the one we'd ultimately settled on was to pose as traveling entertainers. After all, I could play the lyre, Iris knew the accordion, and Acrobat could invoke Misty Visions for some spectacular accompanying effects. We claimed to have traveled here from Downfall, the village in the northwest where Bavlorna's cottege would be, and they were surprised, but not suspicious enough to not let us into the giant stump they used as their main base of operations.

The performance went off fantastically and attracted an adoring crowd. After the show, they chatted with us, seeming to be especially-intrigued that we'd come from Downfall ("What'd you eat?"). They also mentioned that Bavlorna'd been dealing with a lot of frustrations lately. "First all the business with Skabby, and then she got some rubes on the hook and they gave her the slip!" While most of them were distracted, I took notice of one harrengon with a gourd slipping into a door in back, and silently snuck in behind him.

Inside were dozens of gourds just like the one the bandits we'd met had demanded we put our memories into. Most of them were piled around the floor, but one had been carefully separated from the rest and left on top of a desk, along with a few other peculiar objects: A turnip with a face, a broken marionette, and a single key. The harrengon I followed ran excitedly up to another, one with an unusually-long scarf.

Minion: We did it, we got Muckstump's plan!
Longscarf: Lorna will pay us for this, that's for surrre!

They continued chattering excitedly while I crawled over to the desk and swiped Jingle's key. But by this point, the door had swung closed, and there was no way I could open it without them noticing. I moved the gourd to the very edge of the desk, so that even the slightest nudge would knock it over. Then I crept back over to the door, pulled a piton from my pack, and tossed it right at the gourd, letting it shatter on the floor. Immediately, a vision overcame everyone in the room:

I was short —bullywug height— and surrounded by other bullywugs in finery. In front of me was Bavlorna, beet-red, furiously pointing a quivering finger at an old lady who looked basically human, except for the windup key in her back. It was not turning.

"CURSE YOU, SKABS," she shrieked, "EVERY MORNING YOU'LL FORGET THE FIRST THING YOU SEE!"

I slipped back out into the main hall as the vision began to fade.

Minutes later, the pair of harrengons emerged.

Longscarf: Ahh, frrriends! I didn't realize we had visitorrrs. And from Downfall, no less! I'm headed back therrre this evening, why don't ya join me?

We insisted we still had business here, but thanked him for the offer. "Arrright, suit yerself. Hate ta hear of another band goin' missin'..." It would seem the lieutenant that accosted us never made it back. Longscarf said his goodbyes, and, scarf flashing, vanished in a blur of movement.

With the boss away, the kegs came out and the real party began. But I don't have much taste for carrot brandy.

And as for the food, well, I tend to prefer... other fare.

While the others were partying, I slipped outside, left the docks, and trudged through the marsh. As I walked, I summoned the mist around me again. It didn't matter. It's been a long time since I really needed my eyes to see.

I began fumbling through the darkened wetlands, calling out nervously every now and then, really playing up being a lost traveler in the twilight. Oh, if only there were some helpful light source to lead me out of this dreadful fog!

Right on cue, from a nearby stone pipe, a ball of light emerged, and began calling out to me in its breathy, faraway-sounding voice. It was hoping I'd wander toward the sound of its words, into the mire, but I kept fumbling aimlessly, drawing it closer and closer in frustration while still concealed by the fog. Soon, it was so close I could reach out and touch the creature.

I pulled out my rapier and skewered it.

It never even saw me coming.

Over the next hour, I repeated the process a couple more times, until my rapier had a nice row of the luminescent spheres impaled on it. Satisfied, I started a small fire and roasted my catch over it.
Hinkypunk kabobs. Gods, it's been long since I had some proper food.

I'm not thrilled to be back in this world, but I have to admit: there are some things I missed about living in the Feywild.

I am going to enjoy this.

Meanwhile, Hwyadin and Iris wanted to look into some of the other rooms in the stump, and in one, they found a real doozy: a pair of bullywugs, one dressed like a knight and the other like a page, chained to the wall.

Page: We've already told you, the Lady Poppingstump will say no further. She has sworn an oath of silence.

Once they gave him some carrot brandy and plugged up the Lady's ears with cotton, he became a lot more willing to speak his mind.

Page: Solisten... I get dragged into this stupid freakin' game, but it's just Her Ladyship is havin' a thing with Adgong. Juss... just let me go. I'll tell 'em she died in, like, glorious combat or whatever. Leave her here, let them have, like, a dozen weird frogbunny babies, I don't care
Hwyadin: Alright. Also, what's up with Lorna?
Page: Ugh, look, all I hear is Skabs crossed the line this time. You know how desperate she is? She did this crazy thing, where she got Lynn to read the stars and find some "Heroes of Destiny" to like, trick into her service and mess up Skabs...

By the time I got back, wiping some luminescent residue from around my mouth, the harrengons had all gone to sleep and the rest of the party had freed the page. Before we left, though, there was one last thing I was curious about.

I snuck back into the now-empty office of Longscarf and grabbed that weird turnip and the broken marionette. I also noticed he was hiding a very high-quality rapier under his mattress, so I swapped it with my own for good measure.

As we sailed south back toward Telemy Hill on our raft, we examined more closely the things we'd pilfered. That rapier is definitely magical, with the power to sharpen or dullen itself as the wielder requires. The turnip has an aura of necromancy about it, and it seems like it's intended for the animation of a specific being. And the broken marionette? Well, it helpfully came to life for us.

Marionette: Wait, GALVYN?! Is that you, pal?
Me: ...what
Marionette: Night of Dark Terrors! Remember?

Oh yeah. Endelyn Moongrave did have a real dramatist's streak. When she had me captive, she'd sometimes make me perform in weird shows alongside dozens of animated puppets like this one. Apparently this one had broken, so she threw him out, and the bandits just sort of... fished him out of her garbage and acted like they'd committed some daring theft.

I fixed him up, and he explained more about the current state of the Hourglass Coven.

Marionette: Stuff's goin' down. I think Lorna and Skabs been- I think they're vyin' for control. Yeah, pretty soon, this alliance of three might become more of a duo, and if you don't pick one of the three sides quick, you're gonna lose.
Me: I... hate all these people, though.
Marionette: Well, there is the forth option. You could try to find Ziblina, and restore her to power. Oh, boy, if she were here, she'd clean them up real fast. But it's a longshot.

With that, he thanked us and headed on his way, and a few hours later, we found ourselves back in Jingle's cave on Telemy Hill, with the key to Bavlorna's cottage in hand. There's only one place to go now: Downfall, home of the bullywug nobility and the witch-queen herself, Bavlorna. She wants us so bad? She'd better hope she's ready.


⋅ • 🦋 • ⋅


So, yeah, I've been keeping some things secret from the other players about my character. More will come to light in the next update, which will probably go up sometime by next Wednesday.

Let me know if you're enjoying this! It's been fun to get back into writing, especially on the forum that made me first want to try my hand at campaign archiving to begin with. (Thanks, SilverClawShift!)

KorvinStarmast
2022-08-18, 09:57 AM
in which our heroes attend a carnival with questionable safety regulations Love your take on the adventure. :smallsmile:

Fralex
2022-08-25, 07:34 PM
Session 4

☞ In which our heroes seek a way out while delving yet-further in ☜
☞ Hwyadin makes many odd friends, some potentially-edible ☜
☞ Sebastien acts his age ☜
☞ Headway is made and hearts are touched ☜
☞ One (1) small, angry gnome curb-stomps everybody ☜


⋅ • 🦋 • ⋅


Note: This time, Sebastien's player came, but Acrobat's did not, so the party size stayed at four: Sebastien (halfling rogue), Iris (owlin sorcerer), Hwyadin (fairy bard), and myself.

Having the key to the home of this realm's ruler would certainly help in finding us a way out, but what we really needed was a guide. The trees of Telemy Hill could only take their mountain as far as five miles outside of Downfall, but they knew a couple other people who might know a way through the Mists.

Easy to find, but risky to trust, are a band of traveling darkling merchants. They do business all over the Feywild and could likely take us with them, but the trees suspect they work for Endelyn.

A more trustworthy figure would be the scarecrow Clapperclaw. She's one of the oldest beings and knows many routes through the mists, but she hasn't visited the trees in centuries and they're not sure what's happened to her.

If either of these potential guides were in Hither, they'd be in Downfall. And so Telemy Hill began its ponderous march north.


A realmwide gurgling resounded from the scattered stone pipes as they slurped the water level back down to the bog-standard levels. We'd been curious about those things for a while, so when Telemy Hill reached the Downfall outskirts, we paused to investigate one.

Hwyadin carefully dropped a duck down the hole with mage hand. It fell a surprisingly-short distance before hitting the muddy bottom. Huh. Evidently it's not really a plumbing system so much as a bunch of water-conjuring and banishing effects controlled at will. We debated how to get down there.

Sebastian: I've got rope...
Me: I'm a really good climber, wouldn't even need rope.
Hwyadin: I have wings.

Oh. Right. So the fairy flew down the pipe to retrieve her duck from the muck, and was delighted to find all sorts of random little trinkets sunk in the mire alongside it. She gathered them all and headed back up. A small swarm of glowing lights followed her, with a chorus of tiny, yet indignant voices:

Hey, you! You're a dirty thief!
Yeah, and you're dirty!
Put it back!!

Hinkypunks. Will o' the wisps. Lost souls condemned to linger outside the afterlife ("You mean they're... g-g-ghosts?" whimpered Sebastien, with an oddly-childlike tone), leading travelers astray with phantom lights. And, as I eventually came to learn, pretty good spit-roasted.

Wisp: Those are our last things from when we were alive!
Hwyadin: Well... can I trade you them for something?
Wisp: THEY'RE OURS!! YOU CAN'T TRADE US BACK OUR OWN STUFF!
Hwyadin: What if I offer to bring them somewhere nicer?

This idea, the wisps liked. We promised to take their stuff to Ziblina's palace, so they could haunt somewhere less dank, and it turned out they actually know a bit of how we can find the deposed archfey's sanctum. We can only get to it by going through Motherhorn, the palace of Endelyn Moongrave, which was most-easily reached by first passing through Skabatha's realm of Thither.

That settled, we continued on our way to Downfall.

The closer we got to Hither's capital, the thicker the mist grew until it became an oppressively-wet fog. The chorus of frog croaks we'd heard everywhere in the realm began to take on the texture of conversation as we reached the small lake where the bullywugs make their homes.

These homes were basically just simple wooden huts placed in a circle around the lake, but every single one of them had some grandiose coat-of-arms on display. The only impressive building was the stone cottage, thrusting out of the center of the lake and towering over the town like a slender mushroom. There was, however, a wooden watchtower to our left, the guards scanning for intruders with spyglasses, so we began sneaking away to the right and going around the lake counterclockwise.

The melody of a pan flute, somber and dripping with melancholy, drifted from a mushroom farm as we approached. Sitting on a toadstool was a blue elf, listlessly blowing his pipes. Unsure of how to approach, I joined in, harmonizing on my lyre, and Iris added an accordion accompaniment.

Elf: Thanks, friends, that was... well, I guess that was lovely. Name's Octavian. What brings you here?
Me: We're looking for a scarecrow.
Octavian: Oh, yeah, Clapperclaw, she's around here. Usually talking to the old kings on the other side of the lake.

When he learned we'd like to escape Bavlorna, he sighed, "Yeah, wouldn't we all..." Apparently he'd come here looking for "a... well, I guess you'd call it a curse, but for me it was a blessing. I asked Lorna for magic that'd make me forget my past relationships. In return she needed my heart. I didn't wanna give it to her but she took it anyway. Now I don't really feel anything." He did, however, imagine he'd be overjoyed if we could get it back, when we revealed we were considering breaking into her hut.

We continued widdershins around the lake, behind a wooden fort, and a darkling called out to us.

Darkling: You there! You look like you're in the market for some magic! The name's Trinket, of Trinket, Bauble, and Charms.
Hwyadin: The name's Hwyadin, of the duck game.

She claimed she had all sorts of wondrous magical items to offer us, but her main offer was "a way to hide from those knights that will be here in 40 seconds." She led us into her company's docked balloon, though "balloon" wasn't entirely accurate. It wasn't a floating bag of swamp gas like we'd seen Bavlorna's minions using; it had a big cage with a roiling stormcloud humming inside it.

Hwyadin was eager to get some new prizes for her duck game, but a lot of the trinkets on offer were pretty lame. There was some sort of pie with "decorative" bite marks, and a magic portrait that "shows you the way all of US have to see you. I mean, get to see you." The only really interesting item was a "Moonlight Monocle" that would let the wearer see in the dark. Hwyadin traded the color of her eyes for it. But this wasn't the deal Trinket had brought us in to make.

She suspected we were "trying to pull off some harebrained scheme to escape," and knew a much safer option. She revealed that her crew had, in fact, been sent here by Endelyn, to conduct some "business" with Bavlorna in her cottage. If we came with her crew, we could work with Endelyn and HAH, yeah right, no way in Hell am I agreeing to THAT. But Trinket didn't need us to specifically take her mistress's side; she was also willing to just help us make trouble for Bavlorna.

Trinket stepped out and called to the guards that she'd seen us in the south, and the knights marched off the way we'd come from. The witch would be busy with her guests for now, but we asked if Trinket could give a signal when their business was finished. "Yes, there will be a lot of shouting and it will be blamed on you." Huh. Alright then. Time to get a move on.

We snuck past a gazebo with some very fancy bullywugs, one with a lily crown. Then we came upon a familiar, eerie sight: A wooden bridge, with a bunch of bullywug heads mounted on pikes. These deposed kings were talking to each other, alongside a strange, doll-like scarecrow with crab claws and a bag for a head. She was in the middle of telling the others, "...but it's not the same. I like being a turnip, something that can grow, y'know?"

I offered her the turnip we'd taken from Longscarf, but the frog-heads were suspicious. "I dunno, Claps, it looks like the you-know-whats that you-know-who is looking for..." They were considering calling the guards, so we asked what we could do to get on their good side.

Frog-head: A quest, is it? Very well, then! You go talk to the Baron of Muckstump, I'll know you're alright.
Me: Wait, why do we need to do what YOU say? Things are NOT going to go well for you if you try to tell on us. Maybe you should just, I don't know... quit while you're a head.
Frog-head: ...GAH-HAH-HAH! Maybe you rubes aren't so bad!

I put Clapperclaw's turnip-head back on as a show of good faith, but she was still suspicious.

Clapperclaw: Awfully convenient, that you just happened to have my missing head...
Me: We're adventurers, we basically steal anything that looks even remotely plot-relevant.
Clapperclaw: Well, how do I know you didn't orchestrate this whole thing? Steal my head, then give it back to earn my trust?
Iris: Come on, get your head on straight! Do we seem like we could arrange all that?
Frog-head: GAH-HAH-HAH! I LOVE these guys!
Clapperclaw: Why do you wanna go to Thither, anyway?
Hwyadin: To put the will o' wisps to rest in Ziblina's palace.
Clapperclaw: Oh, wow. That's the most sincere thing I ever heard. You guys really ARE rubes. Alright, I'll help you out.

Clapperclaw knew a route through the Mists to Thither, but we'd need to find another guide there to reach Endelyn's demesne. Someone named Squirt.

It was at that time there was a shattering of glass from the cottage window, followed by two splooshes and Bavlorna shrieking, "GET HER! GET HER! SHE'S A TRAITOR, GET HER!" Every courtier in the gazebo jumped to their feet, and Bavlorna burst out the window and leaped onto a lilypad that made a motorboat revving noise and rushed after some unseen foe.

Now was our chance.

Climbing across the lake on a nearby clothesline, we snuck into the witch's cottage through a westward balcony on the middle floor. We found ourselves in a filthy dining room, the table covered in half-eaten food and buzzing with flies. The room had two doorways, north and south, each with a severed goblin head above it. We went south first.

This room was mostly taken up by a tubed contraption, like some kind of hooch distillery. While the others investigated, I scouted ahead to the next room, going east down a hall and peeking into a gore-splattered kitchen. The sole occupant was an outraged-looking, gnomelike old man with a red hat, huge boots, and a bloody cleaver.

Crap. Ohhh, no. A redcap. I tried to back out quietly, but botched the Stealth check and he came stomping down the hall behind me as I fled into the hooch room. I shut the door, then climbed the frame so I was right above it, and motioned for the others to get ready for a fight. Hwyadin grabbed a frying pan. Sebastien hid in a barrel.

The redcap barged through the door, and got a faceful of pan, while I dropped down on his head, fingernails glowing and elongating. Digging my talons into him, I began to siphon the fey's supernatural essence, but he slashed us both up with his cleaver, cutting my HP in half.

Iris tried to disable him with Tasha's hideous laughter, but the enchantment failed. Hwyadin managed to deliver a decent jolt through his iron boots with shocking grasp and started to flee into the dining room, but this just enraged him further and he stomped after her, trying to crush the fairy underfoot.

We all tried to hit him or at least restrain him, but we had terrible luck. Nothing was connecting, and his cleaver continued to slice us up. I dropped to one HP. In a final, desperate move, I filled the room with fog and hid under the table.

Anxiously, we all listened in the gloom as the redcap swung in a blind rage and stomped around. Finally, he seemed to give up and trudged back to the kitchen. We breathed out.

We took a few minutes to tend to what wounds our magic could fix, then made for the northern door. It lead to another hallway going east, with a strange mirror on one wall whose reflections lacked what emotion the people casting them showed. At the other end of the hall was a study, where tiny versions of Bavlorna busied themselves cleaning. Ah, and there, a stairway up to the top floor. We snuck past the "Lornlings" and headed up to the attic.

It was illuminated by a single blob of light hanging in the air, and the floor was strewn with more dirty dishes, clay pots, dead plants, and a chest. Divinations revealed both the dead plants, the chest, and whatever its contents were to all be magical. This made Sebastien nervous about picking the lock, suspecting a trap, so he worked together with Hwyadin, guiding her through the basics while she attempted to pick it from a distance with mage hand.

The first attempt failed, causing the chest to grow arms and swing a punch at the space in front of it. Then the glowing light floated down and started pinging. Thinking fast, I jumped up, skewered it with my claws, and ate the magical alarm before it could get anything else out.

Eventually the duo worked the lock open, and inside the chest found a marionette with a sun and moon face, and unpunched ticked signed "Isolde," and three scrolls of identify. Using a watering can lying near the dead plants, we revitalized them and one spat out a key... that would've opened the chest safely. Oh, well.

The attic had a second room to the east, so we investigated that next. Unlocking the door with Jingle's replica key, we found an emaciated Lornling that only had enough time to wheeze out, "the shadows..." before dying.

Yet more junk littered this place, like a miser's attic, but with detect magic we identified a few magical objects: A white, porcelain jar of chicken legs radiating divination, a helm hanging on a mannequin with a similar aura, and a five foot bronze statue of a frog that was imbued with conjuration and whose wide-open mouth held just a pit of inky darkness.

Feeling an... inexplicable apprehension over putting my hand in a statue's open mouth with no visible interior, I picked up the dead Lornling and shoved its hand through. When this failed to annihilate anyone, I cautiously reached in myself.

I got an odd, probing sensation, like it was waiting for me to think something specific. So I focused intently on retrieving Octavian's missing heart, and felt my hand close around something moist and fist-sized. Mission accomplished. Ew.

I tried to see if I could find, like, a healing potion in there, too (still being very injured), but it would seem the vessel only gives one thing per person. When Sebastien learned how it worked, he waited for the rest of us to leave, then quietly reached inside. He knew what he wanted to retrieve. Youth.

No one saw the strange technical schematic he pulled out of the frog's mouth. He carefully stowed it in his pack, and came back out to join us.

Hwyadin had just finished convincing the animate plants we'd watered to join her when we heard the sound of someone flopping dejectedly into a chair, followed by faint voices:

Lornling: Did... did you get them, Your Wretchedness?
Bavlorna: NO. They escaped. We can only trust ourselves— what? Ugh, an alarm upstairs? Fine, I'll check it out. No rest for the wicked...

Heavy footsteps began climbing the stairs below us. This is going to be close.


⋅ • 🦋 • ⋅


That was a very scary fight, with some really unlucky rolls on our part against an enemy that's already pretty dangerous at level 2. We're pretty sure if its trampling attack had hid Hwyadin, she would've just straight-up died.

We've joked that the reason Bavlorna's spies are having such a hard time finding us is because our party composition is so inconsistent. "Hey, is that them?" "Nah, there's supposed to be two horses in the party, no one could get that wrong!"

I was curious about the timescale here, and the DM said that the realm has been conquered by the Hourglass Coven "centuries" ago, but fairy-world time dilation is probably at play there.

Muckstump's name has come up twice now, but I have a feeling we've left that particular plot thread to chug along without us. It happens.

I'm getting some suspicions about what Sebastien's deal is. As for my own deal, yeah, I'm not actually a half-elf. I'm using the dhampir race from Ravenloft, with some thematically-appropriate alterations.

Fralex
2022-10-08, 06:42 PM
Session 5

☞ In which our heroes escape the mire, but are not out of the woods yet ☜
☞ A remorseful miser sews what he reaped ☜
☞ Galvyn attempts to bite off more than he can chew ☜
☞ We conspire with a wanted criminal to steal an old lady's children ☜


⋅ • 🦋 • ⋅



Note: We had a full party this time! Also, a new player joined in, bringing the group size up to 7: Acrobat (centaur warlock), Flash (centaur paladin), Sebastien (halfling rogue), Iris (owlin sorcerer), Hwyadin (fairy bard), myself, and the newcomer Nellie (gnome cleric).

Bavlorna was coming up the stairs. We had only seconds to react. I covered the upper steps with ball bearings, while Sebastien smashed a window to the west and Acrobat set up an illusion of us escaping that way.

We saw her begin to emerge, notice the illusion, and have just enough time to say, "EH? WHAT'S THA—" before slipping on the ball bearings and falling back down the stairs.

We didn't wait for her to get back up. Pulling out our tiny fairy packpacks we'd gotten from the Pixie Kingdom and shrinking ourselves with the provided dust, we flew out the southern window and down to Octavian's hangout. With the delicacy of a former musician and the defibrillating power of a horse's kick, Flash and I performed a successful impromtu heart surgery, returning feeling to his soul. He was, for the first time in years, overjoyed.

It was then, as we looked around and saw Bavorna's forces swarm the town for us, we realized we'd "mislead" her to search in the exact direction we actually needed to go to meet back up with Clapperclaw and escape.

Iris flew off and grabbed a boat, and we padded into the deep fog, working our way widdershins around the lake. Hiding in the fog was nervewracking. We couldn't see where we were going, but every so often we'd notice a dark, winged shadow following us. I'm still not sure what that was.

It didn't stop us from reaching Clapperclaw, though. With the scarecrow mounted on the bow like a figurehead, her eyes blazing, she began summoning pairs of flames, tracing a path for us to follow through the Mists. Flash and Nellie, a gnomish cleric of peace, took the oars and rowed vigorously. Gradually, in minutes, or perhaps hours, the noise of the swamp faded into silence.

When the Mists cleared, we found ourselves drifting down a river through a dark wood. It was deep and foreboding, like the archetypal primeval forest of every "children wander into the woods" fairy tale. There was a pervasive wrongness oozing from it, a rotting feeling that nothing good awaited us in the gloom of the gnarled and sickly trees.

We had gone Thither.

Clapperclaw: Aright, look-look... I dunno if this is any safer to be honest. Skabby rules here. She's mean, ambitious in ways that ol' Lorna ain't. She's not actively lookin' for ya, though, and unlike Lorna, when she makes a deal, you can count on her to honor it.

She gave us a few more tips about this realm:

☞ Squirt, the guide she'd mentioned would be able to lead us into Endelyn's realm from here, is apparently a sapient oil can
☞ Skabatha Nightshade lives far to the west, in a fallen tree called Loomlurch
☞ Nearer in the west, in a cave, we should meet with Nib, who can help us
☞ Somewhere there's a weird lake that nobody's ever seen(?)
☞ A band of rebels are working against Skabatha, their base is a treehouse
☞ There were some mortals entreating with Zyblina when she got overthrown; some have been trapped with her in the palace, but some are wandering these woods

With that, the scarecrow wished us luck and left us.

After walking through the corrupted forest for some time, we found a cave with torchlight flooding out of it. Nailed to a nearby tree was a wanted poster for "Will of the Feywild," a boy who looked only about 15, judging by the illustration. Beneath it was the caption, "THIS RAGAMUFFIN DEFIES ME. BRING HIM TO ME ALIVE AND UNHARMED, AND I'LL GRANT YOU A LOYAL SERVANT. -S"

Within the cave was a blindfolded old man surrounded by piles of gold coins. He was feeding the gold into a spinning wheel and weaving out fine golden thread. Soon after he noticed us, the ghost of a rail-thin child appeared, terrifying Sebastien and calling the old man's name before vanishing again: Nib. He greeted us and explained:

I am... not a good person. See all this gold here? I made this gold on the backs of poor tenants, in a city far from here called Waterdeep. I came out here to make amends. Granny Nightshade cursed be to dwell forever in this cave, spinning my gold into useful items for anyone who comes my way.

He offered us shelter for the night, and as a show of hospitality, granted each of us one gift of our choice, that he would sew us himself by time we woke using his spindle (and presumably, a whole host of industrial-grade sewing machinery that was letting him start and finish seven separate sewing projects in the space of a single night's rest).

The others went to sleep. I can't remember the last time I truly slept.

At least it made feeding easier.

Acrobat still hadn't really recovered from the horrors of that Mystery Mine ride back in Witchlight. I could smell it, the nightmare squirming around inside her. She was so... full.

Just a taste shouldn't hurt, right?

She and her sister were doing that centaur thing where they use each other's flanks to support their humanoid torsos while they sleep. Creeping up to Acrobat undetected was tricky, but finally I unsheathed my claws and prepared to root around for the succulent dream inside her—

Flash: What are you doing to her?!

Dammit.

Me: Wh— I wanted to— I was... hungry...?
Flash: What.
Me: Nono, it's fine, she'll thank me later, I'm just gonna pull her dream out, see? [gestures to my glowing, needle-like claws] It'll be like a mosquito bite! She won't even really feel it!
Flash: Oh my god you are NOT touching my sister with your horrible mosquito-hands!
Me: I'M HELPING
Flash: Then ask her! When she's AWAKE!

I cautiously backed away from the irate twin. Nobody else seemed to have woken up.

Her death glare was making me very uncomfortable.

I turned around. I could still feel it boring into me.

I summoned fog around myself and tried to rest.

I could still feel it.

The party finished resting, and Nib handed us the gifts we'd requested. For Sebastien and myself, we got golden pendants that blocked all divination. Flash got plate armor, sized for a horse and woven from golden threads into a flexible coating as tough as steel.

We asked Nib about Skabatha Nightshade and Will from the wanted poster.

Nib: Old Granny Nightshade has quite a temper. That wind-up key in her back? It turns slower the angrier she is. If it ever stops turning completely, GET AWAY.

Apparently she runs a toy factory, with children forced to make creepy toys that she then delivers all over the world on the back of a flying rocking horse. Will is trying to rescue them, and he leads a band of rebels who live in the treant Little Oak, to the north. Squirt the oil can lives there, too.

Also, there's a goblin market near Nightshade's base, they sell weird candy. We then proceeded to have a 30-minute digression about all the weird Canadian candy our GM grew up with.

Did you know there's a candy called Chicken Bones?

As we trekked north, we came across a circle of mushrooms. Nib had mentioned that there used to be fairy rings in the woods that could take you back to any number of Material Planes, but now that Skabatha has taken over, the forest is sick and the rings are corrupted.

This one didn't seem tainted, though. It was unbearably-saccharine, with little smiling mushrooms dancing within it and singing a soft, high song in a language none of us could place. I didn't want anything to do with them either way, but Sebastien joined in on their dancing and when nothing bad happened the others soon followed.

Mushroom: Thanks for joinin' us, that was a lotta fun! We don't get many visitors, not since Skaaabby...
Me: So she's corrupted all the others?
Mushroom: They're scary, they say mean things to you, hurtful things!
Me: Where does this ring go?
Mushroom: We don't know, something to do with your heart's desire. But you need a unicorn horn.

We asked if it had to be detached, and apparently just bringing a whole unicorn is a valid loophole. And you know that "mysterious lake that nobody's ever seen"? Apparently a unicorn lives there, though since losing her mate she hasn't been seen much.

Iris taught them a song, and they gave her their blessing as we continued north.

The gloomy silence of Thither was pierced by the sound of children playing. In what was maybe the only pleasant glade in the entire wood, there was Little Oak, tire swings hanging from its branches and a splendid fort perched in its treetop. As soon as it saw us approach, however, it hefted a boulder threateningly in one massive limb and a boy's voice rang out from the branches:

You there! Stand down, or face merry HELL! (Heheheh, I said hell)

We had found Will of the Feywild. Iris recounted our grand story with accordion accompaniment, and the kids came down from the tree to greet us. Among their number we were supprised to find the cub of a displacer beast. I tossed him the mirrored ball Dirlagraun had given me, and sure enough, he leapted and played with it like it was his favorite toy in the world. We had found the missing Star.

After hearing of our adventures, Will seemed thoughtful. Then excited. "How are you up for a little danger?" he asked. "We're goin' to sneak into Loomlurch and spring all the other kids. You in?"

We were very in.

Eagerly, he explained his plan to us.

Time to make another immortal enemy.


⋅ • 🦋 • ⋅


I'm back! I fell behind on writing these recaps but I've started catching up now.

We spent SO LONG talking about weird candy.

I'm trying to push the creepier aspects of this character more, which is always hard for me to do because I always worry about going too far and ruining other people's fun. But yeah, Galvyn is an unsettling and not very nice person. He just really dislikes archfey and for the most part his scariness is pointed at them instead of his party.