WEIRD TALES OF SWORDS and sorcery

the FOREST
that KNOWS
your NAME

A forestcrawl adventure for PINKHACK and other

OSRs
 the
FOREST
That
KNOWS
your
NAME

Words and layout by N. MAsyk

Edits by Vi Huntsman

Art used with permission by Charles Ferguson-Avery of Feral

Indie Studio

Public domain art curated by Guilherme Gontijo

 The sun is out. Smoke drifts from cookfires. Loggers nap in
the shade, or dice beneath awnings on ramshackle yurts.

Nearby, raised voices. One petulant: “This path was to be

cleared weeks ago!”
Another, defiant: “You ask the impossible. I need more
soldiers!”

Rumors
“You want to go into the forest?” The loggers look at each
other, then laugh.
(2d6) Never totally true. Never totally false:
2 “… a mountain walked or stumbled, they said. Seven heads,
each one telling lies and terrible truths. I’ll never spend a
single night beneath these trees.”
3 “… giants or Gods, I don’t care what you call them, they feed
off blood and live forever, and these queer folk worship the
devils. It should all be put to the torch.”
4 “… broke a sword in half with a simple wooden club. Said the
sap from the trees here was harder than bronze.”
5 “… six of them with wooden knives, wearing fish scales for
shirts. Took the deer I’d shot and said if I didn’t leave by
nightfall they’d string me up and let my blood feed the
roots.”
6 “… lived to be a thousand, they said! It was the strange fruit
they ate—whole figs, every day. This isn’t the right climate
for figs, my friend.”
7 “… tall as the treetops, black as pitch, with a single eye
burning red in the dark… we all ran, but only I made it back.”
8 “… just going in circles, for hours and hours. The Forest
doesn’t want visitors.”
9 “… great wings, like a hurricane, flapping overhead. I
thought it’d flatten the whole woods as it passed… whatever
it is, it shouldn’t exist. Not anymore.”
10 ”… the things in these woods will take your name, if you let
them. Use a false name—with everyone.”
11 “… didn’t used to be a forest, he said. He’d seen some map
from some fancy college on some fancy Sphere, he said. A
whole kingdom used to be here, he said. Nonsense, I said.”
12 “… the Palm Tree King, the last True God, holds court here,
along with all the other monsters still clinging to un-life
from the Universal War.”

1
Tegin, the Bureaucrat

Portly, brittle, slick-backed hair. Always glancing from side to

side. Always flanked by a pair of oversized Geas-Bound
guards on temporary loan from the Butcher’s Guild.

Tegin is a middleman for a nawab’s expansion projects toward

this stretch of forest. Rarely leaves the city, eager to be back.
“You there! You look a warlike lot. Indulge these local louts’
superstitious nature and the nawab will shower gratitude
upon you!”

The nawab has forgotten about this project. There are no

more soldiers coming, no gratitude to be showered. Tegin will
slink back to the city in 1d6 days.

Melekh, the Boss

Broad shoulders. Broad belly. Broad everything. Always

scowling, always arms folded. “I’m not paying you to gamble!
Get back to work!”
Secretly very fond of the workers. Argues for higher wages,
more rations, more protection from the nawab. Always more
protection. The forest claims its toll with every passing day.
“I’m not sending a single logger under that canopy without a
full regiment!”

When Tegin departs for the city, Melekh will wait an

additional 1d6 days before sending the loggers home. Too
many have died already to feed the thirsty trees.

2
Vali Ahd, the Exile

Proud. Restless. Reckless. A vengeful ghost in a jeweled belt.

Prowls the logging camp’s perimeter, hacking in frustration at
the tall grasses. Their voice is a sharp gale, and it cuts.

Vali Ahd’s family was deposed by the current nawab. Will stop
at nothing to reclaim their family’s lost nobility, but needs
power to do so. Knows the denizens of the forest are skilled in
the Dread Arts, and wants their backing. “Accompany me, and
when the Oak Crown of Zsolt sits upon my brow as was
ordained, I shall raise you high in my artillery.”

They will fail. The forest does not bargain for power.

3
The Way In
Oldgrowth trees, groaning. Birdsong and insectwhine. And
something else—voices, muttering. Whispering. Plotting.

Easy paths loop back on themselves. Thorns snare, roots

entangle, rocks trip and crush. The forest denies you its
secrets, its depths, turning you around, turning you back, no
matter your skill at woodcraft.

Blood is the key; shed or spilt.

The roots demand a toll to allow access to the deeper wood.

Even a drop is enough: boughs rustle, soil churns, and
animals and insects grow quiet. Paths that were impassable
grow inwards, opening.

The forest is awake, and it thirsts.

4
Encounters

To wander beneath the canopy is to invite peril. Hunters and

loggers do not do so without both prayers and protection.

There is always something. Roll each watch: 1d6 until the

blood toll is paid, 2d6 afterward.

1 - A woodcutter, slumped against a root. “W-watch out-”

they manage. A whine like a two-person saw. Mosquitoes, the
size of a human dive-bombing in, to finish the job.

2 - Feline eyes, tracking you from the treetops. The smell of

cat urine. This is their forest, and they can slip in and out of it
like a fish through a swift current.

3 - A thin stream, tumbling over rocks. A crowned hart, its

hooves resting lightly on the surface of the water without
disturbing it. It stares at you with liquid eyes, then bolts into
the trees.
4 - Loggers, lost from the last expedition. Axes, saws, and a
crude kettle-bombard. Looped together with rope, to keep
from losing each other. Protection charms and spirit amulets
upon every wrist, ankle, and neck.

5 - An enormous frog with 1d6 mouths. Each mouth

croaks in a different language. They tell you things you want
to hear, of treasures lying just within the shallows of their
pond, to draw you closer to their gripping, lashing tongue.

6 - Squirrels chatter from the underbrush. Sound like

children playing. They will lead you into ditches and off cliffs,
if you aren’t careful. They will laugh the entire time.

5
7 - A headscarved woman. Her eyes glitter like diamonds, her
teeth and nails are filed to razor-points. She is a witch. You
can bargain with her for power, but her demands are
measured in fresh blood.

8 - The lilting notes of a reed flute. A faun, crosslegged, sits

atop a treetrunk. They will play for you, for a time. “Might I
have your names?” they ask politely. Give it to them and they
will vanish, taking the names with them.

9 - A tall spirit. Root-like talons grip the soil. Its slender,

sinewy body stretches upward, into the canopy. Willowy
fingers drape downward. Faster than they look.

10 - Drums, in the depths. A Prince from the city sought to

recruit an army here. They rotted away aeons ago, unable to
leave. Now, battalions of lichen-covered skeletons in ruined
parade dress march aimlessly through valleys and over hills.

11 - Three skeletons arranged in a circle, a moss-covered

blanket between them. Several small clay jugs, filled with dirt.
There is dirt in each skeleton’s hands, and in the empty space
where their mouths once were.

12 - Sleepwalking soldiers from the city; bronze

ringmail, bronze spears, bronze helmets and shields. Their
eyes are closed, their mouths move soundlessly. They stumble
about, as if guided by something, pulling them deeper into
the woods. Difficult to rouse.

6
Stirge Forest Witch

HD: 3 HD: 5
AV: 0 AV: 0
Special: Damage dealt Special: Knows 1d3 Words
restores Will. of Creation.

Forest Felid Faun

HD: 2 HD: 2
AV: 2 AV: 0
Special: Can change size at Special: Untouchable by
will; housecat to mountain any poor fool who gave their
lion in the blink of an eye. name to a faun.

Crowned Hart Tall Spirit

HD: 4 HD: 2
AV: 0 AV: 2
Special: Antlers ignore Special: Throttling grasp.
armor. Those caught cannot act
until the choking grip is
broken.
Liar Frog

HD: 5
AV: 2
Special: Able to hit enemies
up to Near.

7
Prince Princely Escort

HD: 3 HD: 1
AV: 0 AV: 1
Special: Double damage Special: Double damage
from fire or cold iron. from fire or from cold iron.

8
A Typical Village
The forest is a lurid green blanket; in the folds and corners,
things linger out of sight.

No chickens or goats. Cattle stockades, but no cattle. No

animal sounds but insects and birdsong. Irrigation ditches
filled with brackish, rust-colored water. Mangroves clump
along the banks. The farmers doze beneath, in the mid-
afternoon heat.

In every yard, fruit trees. Overripe crimson fruits dangle

obscenely, dripping vivid colors. Every so often, one falls with
a wet sound, SPLORCH.

People of the Forest

Each dwelling is a tree. Hollows for homes, knots for doors

and windows, roots for stairs. Clay urns of dry goods in the
boughs above, clay urns of fruit juice and preserves amidst
the cold roots. “The forest provides,” they say, shrugging.
(1d6) Also:
1 Roots and tubers in the boughs, swinging on little
strings. Herbs arrayed out to dry on flat rocks in the yard.
Inside, a stone mortar and pestle, grinding. They are an
herbalist.
2 Tools hanging from the awning. Tools on workbenches,
scattered about the yard. A leashed salamander belches
fire onto a pile of broken scraps. They are a blacksmith.
3 Bone totems in the yard. Through a thick curtain, the
smell of incense. A curved dagger, and a votive bowl
filled with entrails. They are a fortune-teller.
4 Clay urns, tall as a warrior. A viscous red liquid bubbles
out from a crack. “Fruit preserves,” they say, licking their
lips. They are a farmer.
5 Bolts of silk and bundles of cotton. People sit in a circle,
the thwip-thwip of needles pushed through fabric in
unison. Half-finished clothes scattered about the yard.
They are a seamster.
6 Everywhere antlers, hooves, horns. Skins stretched taut
to dry in the sun. In the yard, a circle of children fletch
arrows with goosefeathers. They are a hunter.

9
(1d6) Look at this one:
1 Face covered in terrible scars. Completely hairless from
head to toe.
2 Arms are crimson to the elbow, like a pair of gloves. “It’s
the soil,” they explain.
3 Head to toe, covered in tattoos. Strange cuneiform that
shifts as they move.
4 Wooden dentures. They keep popping loose.
5 Features covered in a diaphanous veil. Never seen
without it.
6 One singular, powerfully-muscled arm. The other is an
empty socket.

(1d6) Something is up:

1 Utterly fearless. Has seen their fated death in a witch’s
eyes.
2 Dreams of a star-studded coronet, resting atop a stump
deep in the forest. Will slip out tonight to go find it.
3 A sibling was murdered by a Prince from the city. They
spit whenever they hear talk of royalty.
4 Found something in the forest; a black stone tablet. Will
try to read it later tonight.
5 In love with a neighbor. Driven to recklessness to prove
their worth.
6 Wagered their neck in a beheading game with a forest-
dweller. Their time is nearly up.

10
Trade Goods
Farmers, foragers and forest-dwellers, they want city things:
textiles, leather goods, wine, bronze-forged tools. And livestock—
domesticated animals don’t last long under the shadow of trees.

Blood Fig

Thick-skinned, pulpy and bulbous. Tastes coppery, smells of burnt

bronze. The juice within is a bright, arterial crimson.

The forest-dwellers swear it boosts energy and keeps them young.

A steady diet of blood figs doubles your healing rate.

Sweet Resin

Viscous red sap weeps from the trees in the cold seasons. The
forest-dwellers collect it in clay urns. They paint it on furniture, on
pottery, on their clothes and their tools.

Any item painted with sweet resin cannot be broken by ordinary

means.

Thornwood

Gnarled stunted trees, whip-like branches studded with nails.

Grows in the lightless places of the deep woods. Behind the bark
grows a gore-colored rosewood.

The forest-dwellers offer carvings of thornwood in tribute. The

wood is holy—a lie cannot be told before a thornwood offering.

11
Serpentine Charms

Ruins of black stone called serpentine lie in the forest’s heart,

pulsating with the magic of old, cold Gods. The reckless and the
foolhardy seek out and break down some of that stonework, to turn
into amulets and charms.

All forest-dwellers speak highly of these protective charms, when

bartering for them with lowlanders.

The forest does not suffer them to be removed.

Copperfish

Barb-faced carp coated in copper scales. The sun trickles through

leaf and bough to dance on their backs. Warriors from the forest
villages string these fish upon their backs, as armor.

Copperfish Armor (counts as Heavy armor. AV: 6).

12
Gifts of the Forest
Great battles were fought under the shadow of the boughs. The
tools of such battles linger on, as does the copper taste of the blood
they once shed.

(2d6) Weapons
2 - A dagger. Leaf-bladed, black as a starless night (Small, one-
handed, close, 6).

3 - A spear. Wavy, pattern-welded point, like dancing flames (Large,

two-handed, close, 4+).

4 - A whip. Serrated, like the spine of the longest fish (Small, one-
handed, close, 6).

5 - A pair of leather handwraps. Constantly oozes blood. Drip

drip drip (Small, one-handed, close, 6).

6 - A sword. Single-edged and straight-bladed, with a curved

handle (Medium, one-handed, close, 5+).

7 - An axe. Crescent-bladed, with a haft as tall as a warrior (Large,

two-handed, close, 4+).

8 - A club. Little more than a knobbed tree root (Small, one-handed,

close, 6).

9 - A quiver of arrows. Twenty, in total. The points are tipped

with the venom of a liar-frog (Save vs Salt or be poisoned).

10 - A maul. A chunk of black serpentine, from the ruins, lashed to

a caber-pole (Large, two-handed, close, 4+).

11 - A hand-cannon. Gore-red thornwood, with a snarling dog’s

face (Heavy firearm, two-handed, far, firearm, 3+).

12 - A tall shield. White mahogany, carved with mournful faces (+1

AV).

13
These weapons have slept for aeons, drinking in the power of the
forest. Most have tasted the blood of Gods as well as mortals. The
rarest, most powerful weapons have tasted the blood of more than
one God.

(2d6) Powers
2 - Slumbering. Treat as an ordinary weapon… for now. Its power
has yet to reveal itself.

3 - Anguished. Remembers every kill. Replays them to you while

you sleep.

4 - Bellicose. Screams with an otherworldly siren-song as it cuts

through air.

5 - Brilliant. Burns with the light of a noonday sun.

6 - Indiscriminate. Once drawn, everything before you is a foe to

be cut down.

7 - Possessive. Guides your arm(s) to wield it, whether you want it

to or not.

8 - Unforgiving. Wounds it inflicts will never fully heal.

9 - Oppressive. In its presence, similar weapons cower—their

spirits broken.

10 - Bilious. Excretes a cloud of noxious vapor. Those nearby feel

faint and vomitous.

11 - Anxious. Sweats thin rivulets of molten metal. Ignites all it

touches.

12 - Vorpal. Thirsts for necks. Unerringly swings toward the

nearest neck—even your own.

14
Laws of the Forest

Honor the Forest

Those who dwell beneath the forest’s boughs must uphold their
sanctity.

Outsiders are not permitted to fell the sacred trees, nor harvest
their sacred crop. Parties of forest-dwellers roam the woods, bow-
and dagger-armed, but will not harm interlopers unless provoked.

The forest will gladly commit violence on their behalf.

Honor the Stones

Those who dwell in the shadow of the Old Kingdom must honor its
ancient compacts.

The overgrown blackstone ruins in the forest’s heart are taboo.

Most dwellers agree: the secrets of the Fomorians should remain a
secret. This is not a Law so much as a tradition.

There is a Law. Those caught attempting to steal the forest’s secrets

are hung upside down and bled, to feed the thirsty roots.

Honor the Tithe

Those who dwell among the hungry roots must water them with
their blood.

The forest has a taste for blood. It was once fed the blood of Gods,
but in recent ages has found the blood of mortals will suffice. Each
month, each village parades into the forest’s secret places, where
stone votive bowls collect offerings and stone knives make them.

A live sacrifice may lessen your tithe, but never replace it.

15
Fomorians
The Old Gods of the forest shaped their servants in their likenesses.

They made them beautiful, so their servitude would sting. They

made them powerful, so their weakness would gall. They
lengthened their lives, so their blessing would curse.

It is they who collect the forest’s tithe. So it has always been, so it

must always be.

No two Fomorian are entirely alike; each has a body of onyx, a

single cyclopean eye, and:

(1d6) Powers
1 … a hobbled left leg, bound in chains,
2 … 2d6 powerfully muscled arms,
3 … a brilliant indigo beard,
4 … an eye that can burn like a lighthouse,
5 … runic sigils, tattooed deep into their flesh,
6 … a long, slavering tongue,

(1d6) And:
1 … silver body-paint, carefully daubed on by a trio of
geas-bound servants,
2 … a waterfall of shimmering, cascading river-water,
worn as an elaborate robe,
3 … a two-wheeled chariot of bones, pulled by a pair of
wan, emaciated-looking horses,
4 … where they walk flowers bloom, vines twist, and roots
grow,
5 … a pair of raven courtiers perched upon their
shoulders, croaking words of prophecy,
6 … gaudy, ostentatious gold jewellry; rings on every
finger, bangles on wrists and ankles, a thick choker,
earrings like overripe fruit,

16
(1d6) And:
1 … breath that freezes, like an avalanche spilling from
their mouth.
2 … a gaze that can penetrate wood, stone, bone, and flesh.
3 … a severed left hand—the stump drips boiling black
ichor that horribly burns all it touches.
4 … a skin of molten iron that shatters bronze and brass
and copper as if it were glass.
5 … a voice like a golden trumpet, that ruptures eardrums
in fountains of blood.
6 … a sibilant whisper that ages all who hear it 1d6 years in
an instant.

They may not have been built for war, but they excel at it. Fight a
Fomorian and you will swiftly meet your ancestors.

Fomorian

HD: 13
AV: 4
Special: Unfathomable powers and abilities based on their origin.

17
Forest Ruins
Cold. Quiet. Unsettling. A steady, pulsing cadence, like a heartbeat.
And also:

(2d6) Roll As You Enter A New Area:

2 - … whispering, in a tongue you can half-understand. The trees
themselves plot against you.

3 - … heavy footsteps, above you; like an upstairs neighbor shod in

bronze-sole sandals.

4 - … the beating of wings overhead; dozens—no hundreds—of

birds.

5 - … Distant crying, a child’s wailing. It cuts in and out

intermittently.

6 - … scratching. Small vermin scuttle amidst the roots and

shrubbery.

7 - … buzzing. A ceaseless droning, like a swarm of insects.

8 - … dripping. Drip. Drip. Drip. Like single drops of blood into a vast
pool.

9 - … patches of frozen moisture crunch underfoot. It is hard to find

purchase.

10 - … a sense of weightlessness. Small rocks and water droplets

hover a few inches above the ground.

11 - … your outbreaths come as clouds of mist. Your lungs feel a little

tighter with each breath.

12 - … sweltering. Fogging your thoughts, cooking you inside your

clothes. A sluggish, oppressive heat.

18
A Fig-Like Rock

A break in the trees.

Reddish-brown stones, arranged in a circle of dolmens. A

dried blood tinge to the grass. An irregular sound, like the
sharp intake of breath.

One stone sits in the center of the circle; larger, fig-shaped, in

a small bowl-shaped depression. Something is congealed on
the underside of the rock. It looks like brains.

Milling about the rock, a small herd of shaggy bovines—

cloven hoofed and curly-horned. They regard you with dull,
placid eyes, but snort and stomp and bellow should you draw
close. Encroach upon their grazing and they reveal a shocking
propensity for violence.

Grazing Beasts

HD: 2
AV: 2
Special: Herds of 2d20. Incite one, and the whole herd comes
down upon you.

19
Grove of Fangs

A break in the trees.

Your first step goes CRUUNCH. Amidst the grass, a carpet of

bones—tiny animals, or tiny mortals?

Hissing, all around. The underbrush and treetops writhe.

Vipers loop around low boughs, dart in and out of root and
shrub and tall grass. A dank, musty smell.

A cracking of boughs, a churning of canopy. Something

massive approaches. Seven slavering serpentine maws burst
from the green: a seven-headed serpent, tall as a house. The
heads snap and bicker, chattering in sibilant voices.

Musmah

HD: 12
AV: 3
Special: Cut off one head, two more grow back.

20
Moonbeam Falls

A break in the trees.

Mist cools in low places. Here a birdsong, there the whine of a

cicada. Overhead, stars are visible through the tangled skein
of boughs.

Water falls like sparkling gems from a place above the

boughs. The pool it crashes into is as still as a pane of glass.
Dark shapes flit about the bottom.

In the pool, a dusky-hued beauty; sparkling eyes, dark hair, a

shark-toothed smile. Kulianna lounges clad in reeds and
lilypads, invitingly beckoning you join them in the refreshing
waters. They are a priest of the marshes, and are always
seeking to recruit passers-by to “serve the God of the Fens”
(drowning).

Kulianna

HD: 5
AV: 2
Special: While within their pool, they are unable to be killed
in any way that matters.

21
Garotting Deep

A break in the trees.

Ropes creaking and groaning in the wind, like ungreased

chariot wheels.

The river is black as night. Long-fingered willows along mist-

covered banks. Something human-shaped swings from each
branch. Tall spirits flit from shadow to shadow, hungrily
eyeing trespassers.

Those who defile the sacred wood are brought here, to be hung
upside down and bled to feed the hungry roots.

22
Stone Candlestick

A break in the trees.

A stone obelisk, upright, solitary, its tip blackened and

melted. The air crackles with electricity. It smells like
scorched metal and ozone.

There is always wind here. Always. A sun-blotting shadow

passes overhead, like a solar eclipse.

Anzu

HD: 12
AV: 6
Special: Iridescent fire-breath, and wings that summon
storms.

23
Kings and their Promises

A break in the trees.

A pair of moss-covered statues: He a broad-shouldered and

sculpted Sorceror-King, She a tall and long-limbed
Conqueror-Queen. Around them are grave markers—some
stone, some wood, some merely uneven mounds of earth.

Each statue’s base holds an inscription in cuneiform:

“Traversing the Deep is naught but a fairy-tale.”

Wild Ram

HD: 4
AV: 2
Special: Six heads, each a mass of tearing teeth and goring
tusks.

24
The Split-Tree Path

A break in the trees.

There was a road here, in a time long past. Here, and here:
flagstones as wide as a wagon, still etched with the markings
of time-lost kingdoms, swallowed by the hungry root.

Bursting forth like a fist through a breastplate, a mighty oak

has sundered one such stone.

Kusarikku

HD: 6
AV: 4
Special: Wields a massive bronze labrys (two-handed, close,
4+).

25
Druid’s Cauldron

A break in the trees.

A gouge in the earth, as if a God’s hand scooped a handful of

it and scattered it elsewhere. Veins of black serpentine glitter
in the exposed walls. Looking down from the lip, there are
steps carved into the serpentine—too large by far for any
mortal foot.

Basmu

HD: 4
AV: 2
Special: Poisonous bite; Save or suffer 1d3 damage/Round.

26
Court of the Palm Tree King
There is something at the bottom of the caldera.

Wind ripples constantly through the branches and boughs,

high above in the forest. It sounds like the sea. Underneath,
there is a droning hum. It sounds like the wings of an insect.
All around, the air crackles with energy. It feels like a storm is
brewing.

Throbbing with power, a vast Godhead of unworked stone.

Power pulses around you, a drumlike cadence that matches

the beating of your heart. Blood thunders in your ears. Your
mind reels, awash in indescribable visions.

You stand in the presence of a God.

27
Godhead of the Palm Tree King

The youngest and oldest God—a primal entity of Death,

untethered and unbound by the Loom or by Time or Fate. No
body—the Palm Tree King is the Forest, a guttural pulse, the
edge in every breath of wind, the curl in every root, the tip of
every nail and tooth.

The Palm Tree King has power, great power, and will bargain.
Each gift is true and real, and each price terrible.

(1d6)
1 To Feel No Pain, Anguish, or Sorrow: surrender your
anxiety, your worry, your Will (-d6 Silver, permanently).
2 The Object of your Ultimate Desire: it is here,
nestled within my coils… for a piece of Self (-d6 Salt,
permanently).
3 To Remain Forever in Luxury and Paradise: stay
here and feast, have all your needs sated, until the end of
your days (-d6 Will, permanently).
4 The Power to Protect Those You Love: the power, the
knowledge you seek… seared into your soul (-d6 Iron,
permanently).
5 To Gain True Knowledge and Understanding: open
your mind to the Mysteries of the infinite (-1 Inventory
Slot, permanently).
6 To Live Eternal: for an offering of flesh and blood, tap
the wellspring of life eternal (-d6 Stamina, permanently).

Every living thing that has died within the Forest lies in the
thrall of the Palm Tree King. Every ling, every God, every rock
and tree. Every soul, in the grip of the King. He can wear their
face, speak with their voice… but no matter what face or what
voice He chooses, it is still Him.

Do not believe His lies.

28