CAD Miscellaneous Encounters III

Dreams
1 You are out walking at night, the grass beneath your bare feet crunching with frost, the
air is sharp and clear on your face, burning your lungs as you breathe. Beyond the grassy
field where you walk is a thick wood, out of which walks a wolf. The wolf is silver-
coated and blue-eyed. It stops and sits, watching you carefully. You approach to a
respectful distance and sit, waiting. The wolf howls, and as it does so, it changes into an
older woman, dressed in leather covered in fine beads, her eyes are the same blue as the
wolf’s. She drops a leather pouch on the ground and walks back into the wood, turning
her head to look at you once before she disappears into its depths.
2 You look up into the sky and see a tower perched on the edge of a cloud. As the morning
sunlight catches it, you see a woman step to the edge of the tower’s overlook, her red hair
a flame in the morning light. She waves to you, and great wings of gold and white feather
unfold from her back, and she leaps into the air, spear and shield in her arms. You feel a
great rushing in your chest, and wings unfurl from your back as well, and you leap into
the sky.
3 Two men sit at an old table, moving pieces about on an enormous board covered with
black and white squares. As you look more closely, the squares of the board blur and
stretch, becoming the boundaries of kingdoms. The pieces become men and women,
moving about their lives. Some of them laugh as their hands fill with coins, others fight
and raise their hands to the sky, some weep and kneel upon the earth. One of the men
looks at you, and indicates a seat at the table. He says in a deep voice, like the echo of
thunder, “Take your turn.”
4 A fountain in the square of a city catches the light of the afternoon sun in its fine droplets
that fall with musical splashes into the pool below. Vendors walk by, calling out their
wares, and you buy a small loaf of bread to eat from one of them. The bread is warm and
fresh, and its surface crackles in your hands as you break it open. Steam rises from within
the loaf and the rich smell of the bread fills your senses. Suddenly you see a small bird at
the edge of the fountain, watching you closely. At a whim, you throw it a few crumbs,
and it pecks them up quickly, and takes flight, as an old man walks up to you.
“Fine day,” He nods to you in a friendly manner.
You return his nod, and hand him a piece of the bread. His face wreaths in a great smile,
and he thanks you. And so it goes, as you hand out the bread to passers by, and yet there
never seems to be any less of the bread in you hands, and it remains as fresh, and new as
the moment you broke it open.
 As the daylight fades, a lamplighter comes, and you hand him a bit of the bread, and you
both eat together in silence. He finishes eating, thanks you, and begins to light the lamps
around the fountain. As he does so, you see that the drops falling from the fountain
appear to be made of gold.
The lamplighter looks at you closely, his face creased with light and shadow. “Have you
learned something?” He asks, and laughs.
5 You light a candle, and the yellow light flares in the darkness of the room. You spread
out a length of parchment, which crackles under your fingertips as you do so, its texture
smooth and fine. You dip a quill pointed in steel into a small pot of ink and begin to
write. As you do so, the words begin to light memories that flare in the darkness about
you – people shouting with laughter and joy as they meet again, tables filled with food
and drink, people sitting about talking merrily, voices raised in song against the cold and
darkness of the night. Your quill scratches to an end at the bottom of the page, and the
visions fade into the shadow again. Yet you smile for a moment, and then speak.
“I remember.”
6 Sunlight spills through the glass of the window, illuminating motes of dust that swirl in
the air. Voice raise and fall, chanting familiar words that speak of comfort, and peace.
You look down to your hands, now creased with age and callused with long use of
weapon and tool. You close your eyes, and see your hand again, fresh and new, closing
around the worn brass handle of the door to this building, the place that became your
home, your life. You feel as though the sunlight is filling you with its light and warmth.
You would do it all again. You nod as you look at the map of your life in your hands.
You would do it all again.
7 Snow swirls in the air around you, each flake like a memory, running from you, spinning
and swift. The endless cold of the night devours them, as they fly like birds, rushing into
oblivion. You fall and look up at the dark sky, the flakes swirling white in the air above
you. A voice hisses softly in your ear, “Life is fleeting.”
8 The seats of the great coliseum are empty, cold and white in the rich light of the moon.
The sand of the fighting floor is beneath your feet, and you draw your weapon and wait
for him to appear. He steps from the shadows, and being of shadow and silver, dark cloth
and bright steel, menace and death. His voice fills you with dread as he speaks, “To the
death.”
9 Waves crash onto a sandy beach rushing forward, then running back. Like great armies
the elements war, water and earth, wave and sand. The roar of the tide is like men
shouting to war, the sand hisses like a flight of arrows in the air. You hear a voice say,
“This land is mine.”
10 A bird lands in a tree nearby, and a ring in its beak catches a bit of sunlight, the red stone
in it glinting. You climb up into the tree, but the bird hops away from your grasp. You
 climb higher, but the bird continues to elude you, finally flying away, leaving you high in
the tree, the thin branches cracking and groaning with your weight. “Thus the price of
power.” A voice says.

Signs
1 A charred skeleton sits next to a small wooden sign, painted in common, in a neat,
precise fashion: “Keep out. This could be you.”
2 Three signs are posted at the edge of a rushing stream. The first is a rough sign on a bit of
bark with the words crossed out: “Troll bridge, pay troll.” Next to that sign, the second
one is well crafted out of lumber, written in a flowery fashion (the words also crossed
out): “Troll and bridge are out. Fairy crossing, pay fairy.” The last sign, written in a style
similar to the first, and on another piece of bark (not crossed out): “Fairy eaten. Troll
back, pay troll.”
3 Written on a tree where the bark is cut away: “Dragon – stay away.” Carved below in a
different hand are the words “stupid humans.” Below that are the words, possibly carved
with an expert talon : “are tasty too”.
4 A stone marker for a town shows that it is about a mile away. “Cricklewood.” Hanging
from the sign is a human skull and a rag covered with ashes and dark stains, and a single
word, written in a scrawl: “Plague”
5 A strangely large sign made from a cart wheel sitting next to a trail reads: “Saf Kamp ths
Wy.” The runes of the sign are written in a manner that looks suspiciously like a Giant
might have written it.
6 A broken rope bridge hangs into a chasm over a rushing river. A sign reads. “Bridge out.”
Underneath are several comments, written or carved with various instruments. “No
kidding” “Learn how to fly” “You first” “Fix the stupid bridge” “Stop writing on the
sign” “Headed back to the tavern, let me know when the bridge is fixed” “Send the
wizard first” “We did, he hasn’t learned to fly yet…”
7 Sign in the middle of the wilderness, wrapped in a thorny vine reads, “You are lost” If
anyone checks the back of the sign, they will see the words, “You are still lost.”
8 A sign next to the opening of a mine shaft reads, “Not yours, Mine.”
9 A variety of severed hands hang from a dead tree near an entry in a town wall. “Thieves
welcome.”
10 Written on a rock next to the road. “Keep off the rocks. Seriously.”
Nightmares
1 A group of children are begging at the city gates. As you approach them, they look up,
and their faces are blank, their mouths and eyes gaping holes through which a greater
darkness can be seen. The children surround you, their dirty hands held up for coin. You
give them each a coin, and their eyes return, their mouths close in smiles. You see their
shadows slide away from them, and attach themselves to passers-by. You feel as though
something terrible has been avoided, for just a moment. Then you notice, all around you,
the people have no eyes or mouths, just gaping holes. All of them turn to look at you for a
moment, then begin to walk toward you. Cold stars burn like pinpoints in the depths of
their eyes. Cold that is endlessly hungry.
2 You walk along a misty path in a close wood, the trees looming over the path. As you
continue, your breath seeming overly loud in your ears, the trees come to an end, and you
come to the stump of a bridge leading out over the edge of a cliff. Below, you can hear
the crashing waves beating against the rocks below. You make your way out onto the
bridge, peer cautiously down, and see a terrible drop below onto the rocks and dark and
foamy water. Just at that moment, a wind catches you and flings you from the edge of the
bridge, you begin to fall, and scrabble furiously in the air, just managing to catch the lip
of the bridge with your fingertips. The stone is wet and slick, and you feel your fingers
begin to slide. You try to increase your grip, knowing, that there is nothing you can do.
Your legs dangle in empty air. Your fingers slip a bit more, and your arms burn with the
effort of suspending yourself.
Just then, a cold hand reaches down and runs a fingertip along your trembling arm. A
woman’s face, looks down upon you, dark hair hiding her features.
“Let go.” Her breath is a whisper, and sigh of release. The wind catches her hair and pulls
if from her face in a black banner. Flesh hangs loosely from the bones of her skull,
floating in the wind. She smiles, lips pulling away from her teeth and jaw. “Let go.”
Your fingers slip from the edge, and you claw empty air. The woman’s bony face
becomes smaller and smaller as you fall. You can still feel the touch of her dead fingers.
“Soon we will be together.” Her keening voice trails away as the wind rushes in your
ears. You are falling, falling, falling.
“Soon…”
3 You awake suddenly, the room is filled with darkness. You can see nothing of any
familiar outlines of furniture, only the covers over your feet and body. Your chest rises in
a gasp, and falls slowly as you feel the weight of something crawling up over the foot of
the bed. You can see nothing, as invisible hands walk up along your legs, slide over your
chest, and fasten about your neck. You feel the terrible weight of something settling on
your chest. Frantically, you will your body to move, to respond, but it will not. You try to
take a breath, but the weight of the thing is crushing you, its hands growing tighter
around your throat. Its hot breath blows into your face, smelling of dust, and rot. Your
 lungs burn as your chest tries to rise against its terrible weight, the edges of your vision
fading from red, to black. You feel the long hair from its head trail across your face, the
sweat running down your cheeks with tears. Your heart pounds in your ears. If only you
could move. Dust fills your nostrils. You cannot scream. The weight of the thing is
terrible. Everything is darkness, dust, and fire.
If only you could move.
4 The stones of the city streets are cold and hard beneath your feet, slick with the deep
breath of fog. Your footsteps echo as you walk from the pooled lamplight into darkness,
and then back into light again. A fancy takes you, a suggestion in your mind. Something
is following you, watching you. You increase your pace, looking about quickly to the left
and right. No one is there. The thick fog muffles any sound, but your heartbeat pounding
in your ears. You come to a larger street, and all the houses and shops are cold and dark,
their empty windows like eyeless skulls, watching you as you scurry by. Something
follows - slow, silent, inevitable. Looming with power, hiding in the dark pools of
shadow. You freeze in a pool of lamplight, unable to go on, the cold damp air freezing as
you draw it in ragged gasps, trying desperately not to make a sound. It is there, at the
edge of the light, waiting. Eyeless, grasping, monstrous, unseen. Terrible in its power and
intent. Waiting. Patient. The pool of light begins to fade, as it creeps toward your feet.
The lamppost is cold and merciless at your back. It is not one, but many. They move in
the curls of the fog, their faces hungry, empty, leering at you from the darkness.
How long before the light fades? They stare at you, you can feel their gaze. They are
waiting. They hunger. Fog swirls at your feet. Nebulous hands reach ever closer, run their
fingers around your feet. No one is there.
Soon, there will be no one.
5 The cold earth is all around you. It fills your ears and nose, presses against your face. It
lies above you, seemingly endless. You lie, waiting, for what exactly, you are not sure.
Then it comes, a whispering voice that fills your being with a terrible anger, a rage that
cannot be sated. You claw at the earth with your fingers, your nails filling with dirt, small
stones tearing at the skin of your fingertips. Then the earth yields to your terrible
strength. You feel it breaking open, tearing. The grass roots ripping like a rotting net.
Your hand breaks the surface, the cold air like needles against your skin. Then you break
through, damp earth falling from your body as you rise from the ground. Moonlight glints
on the bones in your fingers. A terrible hunger grips you, you try to cry out, but nothing
escapes your lips but a whispering moan. You stagger out of the churchyard, to the road
beyond.
The living are there. Close. Soon you will feed.
6 He waits outside, in the yard that is bathed in cold, white moonlight. You are the only
child left in the village. He has taken all the others. The tall man, with dark hair, pale
 skin, and sharp, white teeth. His eyes follow you through the walls, as you get up and
make your way outside. You cannot resist him. Your friends are waiting.
7 You know they are waiting for you to fall asleep. You can hear the rustling of their
feathers, the scratching of their claws at the windowsill. They flock and gather in the
corners of the room. You cannot open your eyes. If you do, they will tear them out. They
always do. Tears roll from the corners of your eyes, and their terrible, narrow, sandpaper
tongues lap them from your skin. They are waiting for you to scream. So that they can
feast.
8 She is there, scratch, scratch, scratching at the window with a long, bent fingernail. Soot
trickles from the chimney and flares into sparks as it falls on the dying embers of the fire.
The door trembles against the lock as she pushes against it carefully. The terrible bent
witch raps on the walls of the house, looking to find a way in. Her milky white eyes
appear blind, but you know that she sees you, hiding beneath the blanket. When will the
morning come? When will the light chase her away? Is it the wind rattling the dead
leaves in the tree? Or is it her, climbing among the branches?
Scratch, scratch, scratch…
9 You see it, just for a moment. Something in the face of the serving girl. Something wild,
its eyes bright, flashing sharp teeth, then it is gone. Then it appears again in the too loud
laughter of the man at the bar. His smile, too wide. His mouth too full of teeth. They
gnash and tear, grind and bite. It is there, in the faces of every passerby. In the hands of
the poor as they reach up to you. In the shadows of the alley. In the mirror, in your own
eyes. Your own face. The terrible light. The creature. It grins at you in the mirror. Soon
there will only be the thing, and you will be gone, forever.
10 A tiny drop of blood. Nothing more remains of the people in the house. A small red bead,
is all that remains of their hopes, their dreams, their lives. What nameless thing has done
this? Erased them from being, hidden them away from the light in the sky, the eyes of the
world. Taken them into darkness and unending terror, to a place where their screams rise
silent into the sky? What will remain of you, you wonder, when it comes again tonight?
You are the last. What terrible things will you know, what dark secrets will be revealed
finally, when it rises from the shadows to claim you? When the light of the sun fades, and
darkness settles. The sky is filled with blood, and smoke. Your fingers are already cold
with fear. There is no place to run, or to hide. And when the sun rises again, you will be
gone. And there will be nothing that remains, except the silence, and the gathering dust of
time.
Lost Weapons
1 A cold campfire is the main feature of this site. It is larger than normal, bonfire-sized for
normal men. Bones of game animals lay strewn about and in the fire. Some appear to
have blocky runes roughly carved into them. A spear is stuck into the ground near a large
tree. It has a stone head that has been expertly knapped into razor sharpness. It is a long
weapon, almost six foot in length, with a four-inch-thick shaft, made of roughly carved
wood. Blocky runes, similar to the ones on the animal bones, run along the spear’s
length, along with very roughly carved, primitive-looking scenes of hunters and animals
wrap the top three feet of the weapon. Skulls from birds and some feathers are tied near
the tip of the weapon. The stone head is dark with old blood stains.
2 A stone cairn marks the grave of an unknown warrior in the wilderness. At the head of
the cairn is a battle axe, laying upon the stones. The weapon has a long haft, about three
feet of what was once fine wood, now weathered and white by the elements. The head is
a protruding, leaf-like blade at the end of a bar of metal attached to the hilt with rough
forged iron nails. The blade of the axe has the remains of intricate scrollwork in the form
of leafy vines that reach back to the iron bar at the back of the blade. The head is flaked
with rust, and has a rotting, leprous appearance.
3 A pair of trees have grown around the blade of a sword, stuck point downward in the soil,
their trunks trapping the blade and crosspiece between them. The weapon is immense,
fully 6-foot-tall including the hilt, with the base of the blade as wide as a man’s hand,
fingers spread out. The sword is a simple, unadorned weapon of plain steel, the hilt wood
wrapped with leather. The blade is pitted with rust, and the leather wrappings are peeling
away from the hilt, leaving the wood of the hilt to begin to rot. The blade is wedged quite
solidly between the trees, and cutting them down would be the only way to remove it.
4 A row of pikes point skywards at an angle, braced on the edge of a knee-high stone fence.
The bodies of 10 soldiers, stripped of armor, weapons, and valuables lie next to their 10-
foot-long weapons. The soldiers have bits of broken arrows in them, evidence of the
weapons that killed them. Their pikes have only just begun to weather, small spots of rust
appearing on the points and cross-pieces of the weapons. One of the pikes bears the
tatters of what appears to be a coat of arms – a rampant lion of gold on a field of green.
5 A strangely armored warrior lies dead against a large stone stained with his blood.
Evidence that he wounded, and perhaps killed some of his enemies lies around him. He
wears a rough leather chest plate, that has rings of metal attached to it. Curved metal
plates cover his shoulders, and are attached to the breast plate. He bears a small, round
metal shield that has a raised central boss, and a pair of leather straps on the back. His
main weapon is an eight-foot-long length of thin, flexible steel, sharpened on two sides,
and flat like a sword blade. The blade is attached to a whip-like hilt. The blade is
remarkably flexible, and whips and curls as it is swing through the air (if anyone cares to
test it). It is unforgiving however, and can curl back and strike an unwary or careless
user.
6 A plain, two-edged, hiltless dagger sits in a leather sheath on the stump of a tree. The
sheath has loops that would allow it to be attached to a belt, and worn leather cord that
look like it would wrap around a leg to keep the dagger secure. The dagger is about six
inches long with a flat, spear like blade. The blade is made of a dark iron, and has been
poorly sharpened. The hilt is round, and made of worn wood covered in cord. A white
carved flower adorns the base of the hilt.
7 The bones of a great beast lie at the base of a cliff, and buried to the hilt in the skull of
beast is a copper axe, the metal of its head green with age. The axe has a set of three
oddly curved, pointed blades, rather than a hatchet shaped blade. Two of the axe blades
are wedged deeply in the creature’s skull. The handle of the axe is itself made of bone
that is wrapped in copper wire which also tinged with green. The axe is somewhat small,
and if removed (after some amount of difficulty) appears to be weighted for throwing.
The blades are weakly made and appear to be bent. The weapon will need some work if it
is to be thrown again.
8 The ruin of a yellowed, cloth tent sits near the edge of a field. The interior of the tent
holds the remains of some blankets, and a broken wooden chest. Beneath the blankets is a
strange looking sword with a blade about four feet long. The blade has a sharp curve
about half way along its length, similar to that of a boomerang. The inside of the blade is
sharpened, as is the outside of the curved edge. The metal of the sword is made of cheap
steel that is already showing signs of rust. The blade has been inexpertly sharpened, and
is dull and chipped in places, showing the brittleness of the steel.
9 The wreck of a cart sits in the middle of a river. The cart is a finely crafted vehicle, made
for carrying heavy loads, but the river has begun to rot the wood. The axle of the cart is
broken and one of the wheels is trapped against a river stone. Underneath the wooden
seat of the wagon is a strange weapon made of two smooth iron mace heads connected
with a four-foot length of chain. The river has begun to rust the mace heads, but the chain
is made of better metal, and appears to have little rust.
10 A bundle of javelins lies along the side of the road, tied with a bright yellow cord, the
heads of the javelins are wrapped in an oiled, cloth bag. There are five of the javelins in
total, each has an odd, spike-like blade behind which is a roundish gourd-like container.
The gourd is filled with an oily like substance that is quite flammable. Oily rags wrap the
gourd, and trail a bit from the javelin’s head.

Lost Items
1 A fishing pole, its handle set into a pile of stones, trails a rough cord line into a still pool
of water where the river runs quietly. The pole is made of roughly cut wood. It appears to
have been sitting there for some time.
2 A broken lantern sits next to a signpost. It is made of a poor metal, probably tin, and has a
cheaply made glass cover. Oil from the lantern’s reservoir has spilled on the ground
underneath it.
3 In a clearing of pine trees are a couple of rough shelters made of branches and leaves.
Lying in disarray near the shelters are a couple of long branches, made into rough poles
about two feet long with bits of ragged, colored cloth tied to their ends. A couple of
wooden ‘swords’ made of two broken boards nailed together lie nearby, with a helmet
made of a small, dented pot with cord for a chin strap. A shield made of a few boards
nailed to a longer one with some cord on the back to use as straps to hold it is also
nearby. Inside one of the huts is a gourd with some water inside, and a small bundle with
some bits of bread and some squished berries in it.
4 A table and several chairs sit in the middle of a field. The table has a red cloth on it, and
several broken, fine white dishes on it. A few pieces of silverware are strewn on the
ground nearby, along with a dented silver pitcher. There is evidence of a fight around the
table, and some dark bloodstains on the red cloth.
5 A broken shield leans next to a wooden gate. The gate is attached to a long, low, rough
cut stone wall. The shield has grass and flowers growing through it.
6 Near a well sits a thin leather bundle. The bundle, when unwrapped, reveals a journal of
20 pages of fine paper, with a pen made of bone and steel. The first and only entry in the
journal reads, “Today my adventure begins.”
7 A bit of parchment flaps on a nail, attached to a tree. The following words are scrawled
on in a rough hand:
“Why does the sun still rise?
When she is gone, gone away.
All is shadow for me now.
Come night, and bring your comforting dark.
You are my only love now.”
8 A wind chime made of bits of steel scale armor rings fitfully in a tree. The scales are
strung on bits of knotted string.
9 The broken frame of a trebuchet sits in a field, its wooden frame rotting and slightly
burned. In the forest beyond lies its last victim, the ruin of a small, wooden post fort. The
wall and rough gate of the fort are battered in with shattered stones, and the interior of the
fort is burned.
10 A wooden knight, a child’s toy, sits on a stone fence post. Its paint is fading, and it faces
the east, watching every sunrise.
Fairy Kind
1 The Coblyn, Nog. A sullen, prickly creature. About three feet in height, thin and wiry,
but quite strong. Pretends to not understand the common tongue, which he does, quite
well. Has a fondness for human food and drink, especially sweets. Often called upon as a
guide or translator. If he feels that he is being treated poorly, he will fall into his native
tongue, or simply say, “Nog!” in a sullen voice (thus his name). His actual name he
guards carefully, as do all Fairy folk, as it gives the holder great power over him. If
attacked, he fights with a dull knife, or will bite or claw his foes. He will run from a fight,
given any sort of opportunity. He also has a weakness for beautiful women, and will get
himself into quite a bit of danger if asked by a lady. He can be quite vengeful if he is
deceived, however.
2 The Erlking, Waast. A tall thin being, dressed in clothes of deep green and white,
trimmed in gold, that were once fine, but now quite worn and patched. Also known
locally as “Stranger”. He has a fondness for human drink, and will often tell strange
stories of the Fairy Kingdom if the mood strikes him. He is quick to anger, and tends to
be prideful and a bit vain. He will brook no insult, and has killed men for a mis-spoken
word. Some seek him if they have questions about Fairy Kind, or the often-elaborate
rituals of greeting or dealing that are often particular to a Kind, or a House within that
Kind. Waast bears a long, thin, silver sword in a black scabbard, chased with silver, now
dark with age and use. The blade is still sharp and quick in his hand. Some say that he
was once a Fairy noble, perhaps high in the Court at one time, now cast from his Kind for
some unforgivable action. None live who have asked him about it.
3 The Cornin, Violante. A small female being, with curled horns, and black curled hair.
She stands no more than two-foot-high, but is very strong for her size, and quite agile.
She is very curious, and loves things that gleam and shine. She is not a thief, and will
only take such things if they are given. She has quite a temper, however, and can raise
quite a racket stamping about with her tiny hooved feet. She loves playing with children,
and seems to know an endless number of games that make her quite popular with them.
She loves keeping things clean and neat, and becomes quite upset with those who make
messes or do not pick up after themselves. She is an excellent cook, and is especially
good at baking. She typically works in an Inn, but has been known to work in homes that
have children. She leaves when the Inn changes owners, or when the children grow. She
appears to be a youthful girl, perhaps as old as twenty or so.
4 The Kobold, Heath. A small mannish being, about four-foot-high, with a bit of a pot
belly, but otherwise lean. His hands and feet are a bit too long, and his fingers and toes
have an extra joint. He loves to sing sailing songs, and to dance. His hands are
wonderfully clever, and he can tie the most complex knots, and has great skill in carving
all sorts of small items out of wood with his ever-present pocket knife. He has a long
nose that hooks down over his overlarge, grinning mouth. He often pinches the end of his
nose with two fingers when he is amused, typically at the folly of others. A brave and
skillful sailor, quick to follow orders, but slow to lead. He loves to watch others having
 fun, and will sit and smoke for hours, watching humans as they talk, sing and dance,
whittling carefully with his knife.
5 The Kobold, Jendrick. Member of a mining family, he is ugly and misshapen, as are
most of the Kobolds of his Kind. Though he pretends a sour, fierce attitude, he can be
kind, in a rough fashion, and has within him the love of beautiful things and people. It is
said that he wears a likeness of a lovely human woman in a locket around his neck, but
none are foolish enough to ask him outright. He is a clever miner, and knows his way
about the underground, and its dangers and creatures as well as any. He is hunched over,
and stands about three and a half feet tall, as is common for his Kind. He wears bits of
ragged clothing, and tattered pants, goes barefoot in most weather, and wears a leather
helmet with metal plates to protect his bald, elongated head. He is fond of strong drink,
but it has little effect on him. He is fonder still of silver and gold, and will fight fiercely
to protect his mine, if threatened, typically with a miner’s pick or an iron crowbar.
6 The Kobold, Betha. Member of a farming family, her kind cannot be called ugly, exactly,
and she is somewhat more handsome than most, with a head of reddish curls, and a wide
mouth of white teeth, and tough skin of a light green color. Short and stout, she brooks no
foolishness from those who work at her farm. She raises all manner of animals, and keeps
a neat and orderly garden. She sings simple songs as she works, in a somewhat loud and
off-key manner, often trailing off in tuneless whistling. She wears good, stout peasant
clothes when working, but has a small closet with a fine dress, shoes, and cape that she
keeps “in case she is ever invited to the (Fairy) Court” She is a plain cook, but makes
good food, and a lot of it. She likes keeping her help well fed, and can be a serviceable
healer if they fall ill or are injured.
7 The Alf, Timurdune. (Tim ur dun) Sort of a ne’er do well, Timerdune moves from place
to place, hunting, fishing, and generally doing as little as possible that resembles work.
As is common for his kind, he is tall, about six foot, and has pale skin, that will not burn
or tan despite all of the time he spends out of doors. “Tall Tim” is an excellent shot with
his bow, but affects a careless style with it, as though he is bored with the idea of his
skill. His arrows are often carelessly fletched, and some are even bent or misshapen. His
long, blond hair is elaborately braided, and he sometimes wears flowers in it. He will sit
for hours in sunny glades, or near running streams, singing songs to the wind and sky in
the tongue of his people, a fluid, graceful language. And yet, there are moments when he
becomes quite serious, as though he were someone else altogether. These times are
usually when there is some sort of danger approaching.
8 The Bwbach (Boobak), Arwel. A small bearded being, perhaps a foot and a half tall. He
loves to care for the home in which he lives, cleaning, cooking, and tending to the
animals. His skin is a deep brown, tanned from his time in the sun, and his beard is a
greyish white. His head is bald, except for a bit of wispy hair that pokes from the sides of
his brown cloth cap. He has a fondness for milk, which he laps from a saucer like a cat,
preening his beard after he does so with his long, clever fingers. He loves to help and care
for his human family, and is capable of some quite powerful magic that he will use to
 protect them. He smokes a long clay pipe in the evening, and plays simple tunes on a
wooden flute.
9 The Sprite, Ailbe (Al-vah). This tiny being is just under a foot high. She is a pretty thing,
her beauty plain, but her skin shines from within with the light of Fairy-Kind. Seldom
seen by the eyes of men, except perhaps as a fire-fly, or a dim, dancing light, her care is
for the flowers of the wild, especially those that grow into berries or fruit. She has golden
hair, often adorned with a small flower or two of the type that she tends. Her wings are of
the gossamer sort, veined like a dragonfly, and iridescent. She is fond of beautiful, sad
music, and will leave presents of flowers or berries of the Fairy sort for those who sing or
play in the wild. Her gifts can be perilous, as those who eat such things can become
Fairy-Kin, and subject to the laws of all Fairy kind, and the High Court. She will not
typically fight, if pressed, but can do so with a small bow that uses arrows dipped in a
powerful sleeping potion. Those that succumb have been known to sleep for a hundred
years or more. She also carries a small, keen, curved knife that she uses to prune and tend
her flowers. It never grows dull, and can cut through many things in a single slice.
10 The Nama, Ciara (Keyrah). A sad being, in a flowing white dress, her dark hair adorned
with water lilies. She appears to be a human female, sitting at the edge of her pool,
playing her harp and singing in a long-forgotten tongue of men. Once there was a new
kingdom of men, with brave knights who came from the sea to claim the land. The king
struck a deal with the Fairy Kind there, and for a time, both people prospered. Ciara fell
in love with one of the knights, who came to her often to tell her stories of his land, and
his people. They were happy for a time. But the human king became old, and jealous of
the eternal youth of the Fairy Kind. He made war upon them, and many were killed. But
the vengeance of the Fey is terrible, and a bitter winter came upon the kingdom of men,
one that lasted fifty years. The men starved, but were not allowed to leave their keep, nor
were they allowed to die until their king apologized to the Fey for his murder of their kin.
Only then did they fall into heaps of bone and desiccated flesh. Ciara keeps the sword
and shield of the knight that she loved as remembrance of him, for he would not fight the
Fey, and was imprisoned by his king, and died there before the terrible winter came.
Those who hear the songs she sings of her lost love are moved to weep, but she will have
nothing more to do with the children of men.

Holes
1 A warren of holes lies near a field of wild-flowers and clover. Many rabbits peer out and
leap to and fro among the holes and in the field of flowers.
2 A well with broken walls lies in the center of a dusty, cleared area. A rope is tied with a
rough knot to a tree leading down into the well.
3 A thin stream of water falls into a large, round hole in the stony ground. Peering into the
hole, a round cavern can be seen within, the water a deep, greenish blue. Plants and vines
grow along the edges of the pool. The pool appears to be very deep.
4 The pit before your feet is filled with the terrible stench of death. Bodies lies within it,
old, young, men, women. The bandits in the area must be using this place to hide their
victims. You edge away from the terrible hole, your mind racing with the evil you have
seen. Then you hear a voice, calling from the depths of the pit, no more than a faint
whisper.
“Help me.”
5 The beast growls and its fur rises along its back. Its mouth is full of white teeth, sharp and
terrible. It looks at the wooden spikes that line the floor of the pit, then at the walls, then
at you. Measuring the distance. Claw marks line the earthen walls of the pit. Then the
moonlight catches the beast’s eyes. Its all too human eyes. Pleading, filled with pain. The
beast looks up at you. Waiting…
6 You freeze in horror at what you have just seen, your mind still racing to comprehend it.
The squirrel had been scampering along the ground, flowing like water. Quick and vital.
Then the concealed earthen door in the opened, and the terrible thing reached out of the
ground, its many legs capturing the small beast with a net of white, fangs biting the
creature, then the spider disappeared back into the ground, the round door almost
disappearing, its camouflage almost perfect. Your eyes move back and forth before your
quickly. Now you see the tell-tale edges of the holes. They are all around you.
7 The pit is perhaps six to eight feet deep. The floor of it is alive and writhing. Snakes
crawl and twist in the thin sunlight, their hissing and rasp of their scales against each
other, against the stone below, a terrible whisper of death.
8 It was just there, a moment ago. The head of the wild cow, bellowing in fear. Then the
mud of the bog closed around it, leaving nothing but a few bubbles, then nothing. The
stagnant water, grass and reeds around you become more ominous. You wonder if there
are more of the terrible pits in the bog around you.
9 The hole in the ground has been recently dug, and a broken shovel attests to the frantic
tearing at the ground. Dirt has been flung everywhere, and a ruined, wet chest sits next to
the hole. The wood of the chest is wet and dark, and water glistens on its sides. The lid
has been broken open, and bits of rotten wood from the lid lay all about. The chest is
empty, except for a tattered oiled cloth, like the cloth of a sail, unfolded in the bottom of
the chest. Whatever it concealed has been taken.
10 The graveyard is a small one, simple standing stones with faint, worn runes marking the
resting places of the dead. The area is choked with weeds and brambles. The remains of a
building stand nearby, just the stone foundation marking its place. One of the graves has
been recently dug out. The headstone is so old as to be unreadable, the carved text worn
 with the wind and rain. The stone cover of the sarcophagus within has been smashed
open, leaving no sign of the body within. The smell of fresh earth and rot fills the air.

Doors
1 A natural archway appears to have been made between two trees that have grown
together. A path in the grass and leaves on the ground appears to have been made, leading
into the archway.
2 A rough wooden door lies up against the side of a cliff. It hides a small round entrance to
a cave.
3 A path of broken stone leads into a nearby forests. The path ends a short way in the
forest, where a broken metal grating covers a square hole in the ground. An old metal
ladder leads down into the darkness.
4 An ornate stone doorway stands at the edge of a cliff. A finely carved wooden door sits
inside the frame. The door appears to open into empty air at the edge of the cliff.
5 A ruined stone house sits near the edge of a field gone wild with grass and briars. The
walls of the house have long since fallen, only the wall with the door still stands.
6 At the center of a lake, a foot above the water, a door that appears to be made of glass
hangs suspended. The door is almost invisible in sunlight, and appears to be most solid
and real in the light of a full moon.
7 Along the side of the cliff, some 20 feet above a rough trail, is a doorway cut into the
stone. A heavy wood door sits within the stone frame, barred with iron. There does not
appear to be any way to reach the doorway other than climbing.
8 At the top of a barren hill is a strange sight. Large, flat stones hang in the air at strange
angle to each other. Within each of the stones is cut a doorway. There are seven stones in
all, the lowest being some 5 foot in the air, the highest some 15 or 20 feet in the air.
Through each of the doorways can be seen a different view of the sky, at different times
of day or night. Rain falls through one doorway, and through another, snow. A wooden
ladder leans braced against the lowest door frame.
9 Through the mist and fog, a doorway made of shadows appears. The fog seems to recoil
from it. The door within it seems to be made of a thorny wood, and faces seem to peer
outward from the grain of the wood, their mouths open in silent terror.
10 Water pours endlessly from a doorway at the top of a cliff in a fine spray, feeding a
waterfall that gathers into a pool below, and runs from there in a rushing stream.
Boats
1 The ribs of a ruined ship sit in the middle of a field, sheep grazing around it. The ship
appears to have fallen from the sky, its prow crushed into the ground, its stern pointing at
the sky. It looks to have been a small sailing ship, but it sports a small mast protruding
from its hull, as well as a larger mast on its deck.
2 An empty canoe made from animal skins stretched over a thin wooden frame drifts down
a stream unguided. There is no sign of its occupants.
3 Beached, and partially buried in the sand, just beyond the surf, is a strange craft
resembling a turtle with a short dragon’s head protruding from its prow. The outer shell
that covers it is made of large, overlapping shields of metal, with small ports above the
waterline at regular distances, probably for oars. Next to the oar holes are larger holes,
through which poke brass tubes that are cast in the likeness of dragons with gaping
mouths. There are ten of these strange things on each side of the craft. The ship is about
100 feet long, and is about 30-foot-wide, and perhaps 20-foot-tall from the base of the
keel to the top of the shell. Sails hang limply from two masts that poke from the top of its
shielded top, and extend into the ship proper. At the bow are painted a large set of eyes.
4 An unwieldy ship lies on its side in the water. At the bow and stern, two castle-like
buildings were built, high above the deck level (and probably unbalancing the ship) At
the top of the towers area are a set of ballistae. The ship has two masts, and two banks of
oars. It appears to be abandoned and sinking. In elaborate gold and red letters is the name
of the ship: The Red King.
5 A small rowboat sits in the water tethered to the shore by a stout rope. A hooded lantern
is at the prow of the boat. A pair of well used oars are stowed in the boat.
6 A small schooner approaches, its sails dyed an uneven black of piracy. It appears to be
smoking and adrift. The sails, upon closer inspection, are rent and torn, and flap in the
wind. A small ballista is mounted at the prow of the vessel. There is no sign of the crew.
On the prow is the name: The Pike.
7 A strange ship floats in the air, suspended by an oval bag tethered to the ship by thick
netting. Sails and masts are hung from the sides of the ship and cross the bottom of the
hull. A strange device feeds flame and hot air into the bag above the ship’s hull – it roars
and breathes flame like a dragon. Men can be seen working the ship and its sails.
8 The wreck of a ship hangs broken on some rocks near the shore. It has broken into two
separate pieces. Barrels and other bits of wreckage are washing toward the shore, some
bodies of dead sailors float in the surf.
9 A small sailing ship lies near the side of the river, its mast and sail taken down, and the
whole thing covered with cut branches. It is tethered to the shore with rope lines at the
bow and stern. The ship’s name is painted on the stern – Black Rose.
10 A small ship appears to have been turned into a floating house that sits at the edge of a
swampy marsh. The stern of the ship appears to be a bit low in the water, and it seems
that the whole thing has been braced up with posts sunk into the marsh. The interior of
the house / ship appears to be dark and empty.

Mercenaries
1 The Children of the Wood – A group of 20 renegade fairy hunters. They hate humans,
and take work so that they can kill them, and profit from their deaths. They have a
reputation for following a contract to the letter, and not necessarily with the benefit of
their employer in mind. They have left several employers to die on a field of battle after
considering their obligation ‘fulfilled’. They are deadly archers, and fight close in with
knives and curved short-swords. They are expensive to hire.
2 Grey Riders – A group of 12 gaunt knights, wearing worn mail, carrying lances and
longswords and shields. Some claim that they are already dead, and continue to prey
upon the living, taking their money and their lives. They are utterly fearless in battle, and
without pity or mercy. They are relatively inexpensive to hire.
3 Sea Ghosts – A small company of soldiers that fight with crossbows, small shields, and
axes. They have a small ship and fight equally well on land or sea. They are moderately
priced to hire, but require a share of any loot gained in battle, or after battle – and it must
be portable.
4 The Field Hands – A company of hard-faced men and boys who were forced from their
farms and homes by war. They have taken up farming tools and captured weapons and
armor from the fields of battle. They are terrible in battle, asking no mercy from their
foes, and giving none in their terrible anger of their loss, and grief. They ask for but a
little pay, food to eat, and that their dead are buried with honor. They will not leave their
wounded or fallen on the field of battle.
5 The Deserters – A company of hardened, professional soldiers who have left their
original units for all sorts of reasons. All have received the brand of the deserters on their
bodies, and none will willingly leave the company, save through death. Despite their
name, they have a reputation for honor and valor, both on and off the battlefield, toward
their foes, and to their employers. They will not fight in a cause that they consider
without virtue or honor. They are moderately priced, and ask for nothing more than any
other unit that is fielded by their employer. They will not suffer any sort of slight to any
member of the unit, and will return their fee and leave if an apology is not given. They
are proud of their unit, and of each other. They will never abandon a single man, and will
follow their commander anywhere.
6 The Hunters – A small group of eight bounty hunters, and scouts. They speak little, but
are highly skilled in tracking men, and dangerous beasts. They fight with bows, spears
 and long knives, and they wear leather armor on the hunt. They tend to work alone. They
are somewhat expensive, but have a reputation for never failing in a hunt.
7 The Lost Lancers – The men-at-arms for a Baron who will not give his name, who lost
his home, family and his lands to a rival. They fight now for money so that someday they
can fight again for those lands, and oust the rival Baron and his men. They fight from
horses with lances (more of a short pike). They wear metal breastplates, arm and leg
guards, and crested helmets. They are moderately priced, but will not fight to oppress
people or nobles that they believe to be honorable. They will fight tyrants for any loot
gained, but will not charge any fee. They are known for donating some of their fee to the
poor of the lands in which they fight.
8 Hammers of Fear – This beastly clan of about a hundred warriors is made of creatures
cast out of their own tribes, and from their own people. They all fight with hammers
made from sharpened stone, the handles made from bones of their enemies, and their
fallen. They wear bits of armor taken from the fallen in battle. They charge little to fight,
but will take a share of the loot from the fallen, and may take, and eat, prisoners…
9 The Circle – A group of quiet wizards specializing in the magic of war and destruction.
Their terrible chants and cries upon the battlefield as they rain fire and death upon men
can cause the bravest soldiers to break and run. They are generally known for breaking
the walls of a Baron’s city, and for boiling the water beneath a ship full of enemy troops.
It is said that they can call down the very stars to rain down. And no one exactly doubts
that it might be true. They are quite expensive, but their reputation alone has caused
enemies to sue for peace. Some lands that they have fought over have yet be anything
other than barren wastes, where the bones of their enemies’ bleach in the bitter sun.
10 BaenSidhe – A group of women from the hills, they fight with stone spears, stone knives,
and terrible magic. They raise the dead to fight for them, and cause sickness and death in
the ranks of their enemies. They strike in the darkness of night, from summoned fog,
from the heart of called storms where they call down terrible bolts of lightning. They
accept only magical items, gems, or servants in payment for their services. Where they
go, death follows.