Dark trees loom tall overhead. The scent of moist earth and pine resin fills the air. A few steps down the path and the light dims beneath the thick canopy. Pale eyes watch from the dark. The silence presses.
The Forest is primeval: most dare not venture too deep. Who knows what lies within? Woodsmen whisper of fairy groves, strange dolmen, dark caves, and animals that speak. No one in the Village has been to the other side.
What kind of fool finds themself wandering in a place such as this? The path is overgrown and to stray from it is certain death by the elements or worse. Only the desperate or the brave dare these wilds.
A small colorful caravan of tinkers and performers sets camp.
A horrible wounded bear hounds a hunter hiding up a tree.
A merry band of rogues ambushes you requesting your charity.
A lone pilgrim tends to a small shrine just off the path.
A child en route to her sick granny’s home is stalked by wolves.
A strange hermit somehow knows all the details of your quest.
You wander off path into the webs of a nest of giant spiders.
Druids prepare to sacrifice a talking rabbit on a makeshift altar.
You are caught in a net snare of a bugbear hunting party.
A sailboat hangs broken in the high branches. But how?
You find an abandoned sawmill now home to a mad dryad.
Night falls . . . the trees live! Branches grasp and roots ensnare!
An old ossuary contains scattered bones and a strange treasure.
A solitary wizard in a tower seeks sap of the Heart of the Forest.
A confused young man repeats, “Return to the Black Rock!”
A wounded elf sits beneath a tree waiting for death to take them.
Minions of the Beast attack the camp during the night!
The Beast blocks the path ahead and invites you to his dungeon.
You become hopelessly lost and must survive in the wild.
You emerge out the other side of the forest? What do you see?
An enormous gnarled oak. Its sap is blood and ancient power. Revered by followers of the Old Way, druids and pilgrims working magic might risk a pilgrimage.
What do you find in the Forest’s ancient heart?
A committee of Treants are meeting to decide if the Beast is the Forest’s ally or a threat. Of the 20 voting elders, d20 support the Beast, the remainder do not. Can you bring them to a consensus?
Emerging through twisted underbrush you see the enormous oak has been infected by the Beast’s evil. A horde of undead animals emerge and attack. Can you escape and survive or heal the Heart of the Forest?
Vile druids are bleeding out barrels of sap at great harm to the tree. The sap is strong magic, but returning it to the tree might earn you the Forest’s favor. . .
The Creatures of Land and Air seek champions to compete in their honor for the rulership of the forest. The victor gains a worthy prize and animal allies.
A pilgrim cradles the body of a deceased loved one and prays to the Heart of the Forest for their life returned. How can you help them? What sacrifice do they require?
The Heart of the Forest splinters to reveal a green chapel in which a jovial but terrifying and mysterious knight in green armor worships. What horrible challenge will it tender?
In the middle of a bog there is an island. On that island lives the Hag. She is ancient, hateful, cruel, and clever. Now she is a lost child in search of her granny. Now she is a beautiful nymph bathing in a clear spring. Trust not your eyes, for looks can be deceiving.
What form have the Hag and her Hut taken on?
A cottage of candy and gingerbread stands in a bright clearing. A kindly grandmother beckons you in for a snack . . . Are those children’s voices calling from within?
A beautiful nymph bathes in a magical spring singing a siren song that enchants the unwary. Does she oblige the enthralled to complete a quest or simply drown them in their sleep?
The Hag leads a coven of supplicant witches in dancing a dark ritual around an enormous bonfire? What devil will they summon or cruel magic do they hope to unleash? Dare you interrupt their rite? Dare you not?
The Hag’s Hut turns on enormous chicken legs. She sniffs the air and calls to you, offering to trade potions and charms for your valuables. Your limbs, senses, memories, loved ones, and name seem a fair trade for her wares . . .
The Hag takes the form of a maiden, a mother, and a crone all sitting within a shallow cave before a scrying crystal. Each will answer one question about the past, present, and future respectively. Disrespect will be swiftly punished.
The Hag rides a large pig and is in pitched battle with an enormous crocodile over an ancient grudge.
The megalith stands wreathed green in vines and creepers, its surface pock-marked by the rains of eons. How many ancient gods and mysteries anchor in its singularity?
What mysteries await at Black Rock?
A druidic circle conducts a strange candlelit ritual before the massive stone. Who are they sacrificing and what forces or beings do they intend to summon? To what end?
The Black Rock touches eternity, transporting the characters far into the past or the future. What wonders and horrors await them? What obstacle precludes their return?
The Black Rock pulls you into a parallel dark dimension dormant within it. You are stalked by shadows and cosmic horrors. Make a great sacrifice to the stone to buy your freedom by inflicting a grievous permanent wound upon yourself.
A strange beam of light engulfs the Black Rock from a shining plate shaped chariot in the sky. Who are these visitors from the stars? Are they angels? Are they demons? Are they Gods? What is their purpose? Can a mortal mind even fathom it?!
Reality twists and bends around the Black Rock and you find yourself transported to an alien planet inhabited by strange beings. Can you find your way home? Do you wish to?
Death sits at a chessboard before the monolith and challenges you to a match. If you win he will return your soul to your body on your next passing. If you lose he will take half of your remaining years of life in payment by aging your body.
The corpses of elder chieftains and wizard kings rest not: they walk again in cold starlight. Woe betide the grave robber who spends the night among the barrows.
What horrors await you at the Fell Barrows?
A huge, masked undead creature stalks a group of lost campers. Can you help them find their way to safety and defeat this unstoppable undead force?
On the night of the Blood Moon a pack of ravenous werewolves wander the barrows seeking easy prey. Until the sun rises, silver and wolfsbane are your only defense.
A vile necromancer draws upon the evil energies in this place to power a dark ritual that will summon an endless army of undead under his command. Will you avoid the clawing undead and stop the ritual or become one more corpse in the horde?
The ghost of an ancient prince sits atop a great dolmen weeping for the memory of a lost and forbidden love. He implores you to find and exhume the bones of his true love, a scullery maid interred elsewhere in the Fell Barrows, and lay them upon his grave to reunite them in the afterlife.
Crashing out of the trees comes a distraught and disheveled young person of great beauty. Three days prior they were bitten by a vampire lord interred in a crypt in the Fell Barrows and are drawn to this place to find him.
You come upon graverobbers who have unearthed the entrance to a great and ancient crypt. They are unwilling to share the spoils of their sacrilege.
Ageless, verdant, and lush, the land of the Fey kisses the Forest here ever so lightly. If you could visit such a place and live among the fair ones how could you ever return?
The Faerie King holds court before the satyrs, elves, and pixies of his realm. His mein and the nature of his court varies: festive in spring, bountiful but rampant in summer, dour and distrusting in autumn, cruel and evil in the winter.
At the end of the rainbow a tricksy green-clad gnome guards a pot of gold and offers wishes . . . for a price.
A blessing of unicorns drink from a sparkling crystal pool. They are magical but terrible creatures whose spiralling golden horns heal as easily as they maim and can sense the content and quality of a person’s soul at first sight. How clean is your conscience?
Satyrs, elves, and dryads are having a festival of art and sport. Winners are awarded fine prizes, but losers suffer nasty curses. Participation is mandatory: refusing their offer of revelry and fun would be an insult that could not go unavenged.
The mythical Wild Hunt pursues a great monstrosity like a wyvern, or manticore. Will you join the hunt or be the prey?
You find yourself in the midst of an endless, maze-like garden. The scent of the flowers is intoxicating and dulls the senses. Fair and beautiful elves ply you with honeyed words and sweet wine. In your stupor you see another traveller dreaming beneath a tree. Flowers bloom forth from his eye sockets, mouth, and groin. The attendant elves leave him to his new green life . . .