The mist-like rain continued to fall upon the lantern-lit roadway. The encounter with the mob on the road had been brief and now the weather-soaked heroes looked around at the unconscious figures lying at their feet. What could have caused this rabble to attack like that? Clearly something unnatural was affecting the locals.

Tanthalas became worried about what might happen if the enraged villagers awoke and so decided to restrain each of the unconscious figures. Reaching into his pack, he pulled out a long climbing rope and began cutting it up into shorter lengths. Knowing they had little time, the knots were not as tight as the elf would have liked, but they would hold long enough to slow them down. By the time the elf was finished, a group of rapidly hogtied comatose villagers were piled up against each other at the side of the road. With the wet mist falling down on them, they would soon be soaked through as well. With luck, the group would be back to untie them and take them home before they regained their senses. Tying them up, however, wasn’t leading to a rationale as to why this attack happened. Their only hope for answers lay with the heavily beaten and bruised gnoll farmer recuperating next to Brylla.

The priestess’ magics had saved the farmer’s life but the shock of the ordeal had clearly taken a toll. Bruises, broken ribs, and cuts covered the victim’s frame, including what seemed like the impacts from multiple heavy blows to the head. Kneeling next to the gnoll, Brylla closed her eyes and prayed to Sif for aid. A soft glow spread from her palms, causing the farmer’s body to suddenly jolt in surprise as a surge of divine magic poured through every cell of its body. The hyena-like face opened its eyes, starting up at the kind face of the dwarf above them.

“Thank you!” croaked out the weakened farmer, the gnoll’s wounds rapidly disappearing. “I owe you my life. I’m not sure why this happened, what caused them to enter this frenzy! My family and I have a farm, just along the river, not far from the main center of the village.”

The farmer recounted his visit to Greenfell, where he was doing some shopping for necessities. It was while he was at the shops, just minutes ago, that the town had erupted into chaos. Looking around the roadway now, he saw the other adventurers and the pile of hogtied villagers. His eyes locked on one of his assailants.

“That’s Bilal!” the farmer cried out, clearly recognizing his attacker. “I just bought bread from him this morning!”

While Brylla and the farmer conversed, Tanthalas’ trained eyes picked up something unusual in the distance. With the rain and the darkness it was hard to make out, but there seemed to be some sort of black patches forming in the sky further down the road. Flaring his nostrils, the elf tilted his chin to catch a whiff of the air. It was faint, but the air had a slight hint of the unpleasant smell of smoke.

Following the ranger’s eyes, the farmer noticed the same thing the elf had, causing the gnoll to leap to his feet, letting out a worried yelp. Still heavily hurt, the farmer broke into a run, loping along ahead of them on his powerful legs. It was clear the gnoll was worried about his home and family and didn’t seem to be waiting to see if the others would follow.

The group paused briefly to look at each other, and then the group of hogtied villagers, before shrugging and breaking into a full speed chase after the victim they had just rescued. A rest would have to wait!

A father’s fear

Gnasir was feeling fear unlike any he had experienced back there on the road when the villagers had caught up to him. When those mad eyes had first started chasing him, the farmer had understood what prey must feel like. The adrenaline that pumps to keep you moving, the looks back to check if your pursuer was still there. He had run for his life, hoping that somehow it would save his children from the madness.

But now, racing back towards town, the scent of smoke growing stronger as billowing clouds of black began to fill the misty sky, a different fear gripped his entire being. The same type of worry he had felt when Gnicole had slipped off that wall when she was four. Or when Gnoah and Gnick hadn’t come home that night after going into Denn for a visit to the city. An icy chill gripped his heart as he pumped his legs, nearly down on all fours now as he raced back towards home.

Behind him, he could hear the rapid beats of heavy boots slapping against the wet dirt road. It echoed a memory of the noise of his pursuers not so many moments ago, though the regular clanging of the dwarf’s armour lent a musical jingle to the sound. Looking back, he could see his saviours moving to catch up with him. The elf moved as if flying, feet barely touching the ground, closing the gap.

The sight of the heroes rushing into danger alongside him filled Gnasir with hope and strength. As he came upon the edge of the river, however, the farmer slowed to a stop, mouth agape. The scene before him filled his soul with horror, the hope and strength of a moment ago draining away in an instant.

The Greenfell inferno

Flames had erupted all around, licking out from windows and sending billowing clouds of black smoke into the night sky. The soft mist was no match for the raging inferno burning away every structure in town. Screams filled the air as villagers ran in panic, some being chased by others armed with pitchforks, sticks, or hammers. By the bank of the river, shapes could be seen lying motionless, likely the forms of those who did not escape their pursuers.

On the other side of the bridge, larger hunched over shapes could be seen carrying torches, moving slowly from one building to another. The light of the fires revealed their mottled fur and hyena-like heads.

Having caught up to the worried gnoll, the party moved determinedly forward, hoping to help whomever they could. Audak and Al, the largest members of the group, decided to split off and come at the village from the water. Their large frames moved slowly but determinedly through the shallow river, a tactical approach that would be unexpected in the chaos. The rest of the group moved forward to the main bridge, with Tanthalas taking a scouting position ahead of them. Frightened villagers raced towards the elf, who gestured for them to cross over towards safety on the other side. Soon after, though, the ranger discovered the source of their fear. An enraged group of villagers charged onto the bridge, finding the elven hero in their way. The mob descended upon Tanthalas, knocking him down. Arms and legs became tangled as their weak swings pummelled against his armour. The elf pushed back with his considerable strength, likely unexpected given his wiry frame, sending the mob tumbling around him. A strong shove to his left sent a few of the villagers over the railing, splashing into the shallow water below.

Something in that moment seemed to bring the farmer back to action. Brylla tried to stop him, but the gnoll began trying to push forward to the other side, shouting something about his children. Following the farmer, the dwarf tried to shout at the young gnolls to stop burning the buildings, but to no effect. Something seemed off about their behaviour. The young gnolls appeared to be operating on instinct, not rationally. They didn’t seem to be acting maliciously, but out of some sort of fear. Even Thegman’s powerful baritone did little to persuade the arsonists to stop.

Down by the river, Al continued his amphibious approach. The dragonborn hunter didn’t bother with honeyed words, instead relying on a more brutish tactic. His reptilian-like form rose out of the river, water streaming off of him, as Al charged towards the young gnoll holding a torch. Though his offhand blow didn’t manage to knock him out, the imposing presence did send the gnoll screaming, rushing off into the distance. With a shrug, Al chalked it up as a win.

A strange feeling came over the group as they entered into the village. It was similar to the presence back on the road, but stronger. It was invasive, like it was trying to take hold of something. Each of them in turn pushed back against the force, avoiding succumbing to the chaos around them. Thegman felt the it the most, a sinister emotion starting to come into his mind before it seemed as if a wall suddenly went up in his thoughts, shutting it out. Whatever was happening, it was strong.

Flynver, having felt the intrusion, took the moment to quickly recant the arcane words that would allow him to see the forces in the weave. As the halfling wizard completed the intricate gestures, his vision was filled with a flood of colour. Waves upon waves of magical energy flowed towards the wizard, allowing Flynver to identify that whatever was causing this feeling was not coming from the village, but somewhere nearby. If they followed this, they should be able to find the source and stop it.

The chaos continued around them as the group pushed forward into the center of town. The farmer who had come with them rushed to one of his sons, grabbing them by the shoulder and speaking to his boy in gnoll-speak. The series of yips and growls and expressive gestures was unintelligible to the others but it was clearly breaking through to the child who seemed to be coming to his senses.

“Dad, something is coming from out of the shadows!” shouted the gnoll in the Common tongue, clearly worried. “We need more light! I don’t know why, I just… know?”

The father nodded his head in understanding. He did not know what it was the young gnoll was feeling but realized that sometimes their kind needed to rely on their instincts more than rational logic.

With one boy running away from Al and this young lad calmed by his father, there was only one more gnoll trying to light up fires and Audak’s large frame was closing in on her. The seven foot goliath surged out of the river, reaching for the girl’s torch with a long arm. There was little contest between the two as the barbarian’s massive strength easily snatched the lit torch from the small gnoll’s hands. His imposing presence combined with the surprise and magical influences in the air sent the young gnoll running away.

“Gnicole, come back!” shouted the farmer, trying to get her attention. He and his son started to chase after her, hoping to calm her down. Before long, the gnoll family was out of sight and in the woods, no longer in danger and also not an immediate concern to worry about.

I’m attacking the darkness

It was the dragonborn who saw them first. After scaring away the young gnoll, he had started to slowly move through a backyard near one of the fire-engulfed structures. It was large, with a stone chimney and several tools and tables out back. It may have been a bakery, or perhaps a smithy’s shop, before the fire had engulfed its wooden frame. Hiding in a large bush near the village center, Al’s large draconic eyes caught an unusual sight before him.

Near a large fountain was a small halfling, dressed in a green robe and waving her hands about in the air before her. Running towards the bridge were a few villagers. The bolting figures themselves were not unusual given the general commotion in town. But what was chasing them was definitely unique. The small spritely figure in the green robe was the only thing standing between the fleeing villagers and their pursuers.

The swirling masses of darkness flitted about in the low light given off by the flames. Were it not for the raging fires they might well have been invisible in the dark of the night. They were roughly the size and shape of a humanoid, but lacked any sort of firm structure and seemed to move as if they were part of the air. Tendrils of blackness reached out for the small figure before them as they closed in upon her. Al could not tell if it was the halfling’s magic at work or something about the light, but the shadows seemed to get in each other’s way in their eagerness to feed upon her. She dodged left and right, holding back the pack of shadows with a primal ferocity.

Thegman was the first to jump to the halfling’s aid, charging in with reckless abandon, great axe held high. His blade sliced solidly through one of the masses of darkness, practically cleaving it in two, but the shape before him simply reformed again. The dwarf was certain the shape was smaller, but it seemed unphased by his blow. There was nothing solid to strike on these beings, nothing to aim for, and the warrior was unsure of whether he was having any effect.

It was Brylla, filled with the righteous divine power of Sif, who discovered the weakness of the creatures. A pillar of divine energy flamed down from the heavens above, a stark contrast against the dark and misty weather in the sky. As the radiant flame drove into the center of one of the dark masses, the shadows seemed to burn and the other creatures seemed to shy away from it. They were definitely not fans of the cleric’s work!

Leaping from his hiding place in the bushes, the dragonborn opened his maw and spewed forth a stream of lightning, hoping to imitate the same damaging force that Brylla had just displayed. While the arc of electricity flying through the air was impressive, it seemed to pass through the shadowy shapes for the most part, not finding anything to strike.

With allies now surrounding her, the small druid took the opportunity to push back against her assailants. A magical glow surrounded her, followed by a massive boom that they had heard from Flynver the other day. The shapes before her were forcibly pushed away by the pressure of the sonic wave, giving the halfling some space and the chance to escape if needed.

Retreat would not be needed today, though, for these invaders were now outnumbered and surrounded. Blows rained down on them from all sides, slicing away at the dark shapes. Tanthalas, wielding the magic blade gifted to them by their new friend Boblin, found the reason the sword had been given its name. As he charged into the fray, his swing cleaved through one shadow, right into another, sending both their forms into the misty night. Thegman and the small druid added to the pile on as they pushed back against the remaining shades and destroyed them.

For a moment, there was just silence as everyone took a breath. It was the small halfling in the green robe who broke the silence first.

“Thanks for the assist”, the druid stated with a high lilting voice, tinged with a tone of fatigue. “Those peasants were pretty useless, eh? What can I call you?”

“We are the Bucket Brigade!” Flynver shouted, introducing the group to the young woman. Looking at the disapproving looks of the others, the wizard frowned. “What? No good?”

There was a slight smile on the small, almost child-like face. She introduced herself as Echo, a junior druid of a local circle. Despite the obvious danger she had been in, and extreme fatigue, the halfling seemed ready for more. Echo explained that she had come here for help, with those things on her tail, only to find this chaos happening here in Greenfell.

“It’s a good thing you were here to help, but we have to get back to the ruins!” pleaded Echo. “They need your help. And, to be honest… I need your help. If we’re going to stop whatever is happening here, I bet the solution is back where these things came from and I can’t do it alone. Will you come?”

Looking back at the raging fires and scared villagers, there was a momentary pause, but the group knew what had to be done. Something strange was at the heart of this and those ruins somewhere out there in the dark were the most likely source.

A missing friend

It took quite some time to reach the ruins that Echo had described. While there was urgency to solving the problem, the druid had warned them to pace themselves, for the ruins were at least an hour away and they should make sure to arrive rested. This gave the party time to check on their gear and prepare for what lay ahead, including trying to get some information from their guide. The pathway they were following was less of a road and more of an overgrown nature trail. At some point in history, perhaps there had been some sort of roadway or path here, but the land had taken it back. Audak’s huge strides easily traversed the wild path but the halflings were definitely having a slower pace.

“My elders had heard rumours of dark things happening near Greenfell and had decided to investigate” explained Echo to answer another question from Flynver. “They hadn’t shared much of the details with me, as usual. They treat me like a child! I’m in my thirties! I wish they would look past my size, sometimes. Ah, but you know how it is. In any case, they had tracked something down to the castle ruins nearby.”

The halfling seemed to be enjoying travelling in the presence of another of her kind, especially one who was willing to listen. Apparently the other druids of her circle had not always done so.

“When we arrived there, the others told me that I had to wait, as if I’m not capable enough, because it would be quote-unquote ‘too dangerous’ for me” continued the druid, still frustrated with the situation even after the recent events. “They left Ikan to babysit me. Which, in the end, I didn’t mind. That place gave me the creeps and Ikan is good people. We waited for a while but then those swirly darkness things showed up.”

The spritely halfling was very animated as she described their reaction and escape from the ruins, followed by her long race to Greenfell, the minions of the Dark on her tail. At some point in the chase through the ruins, she and Ikan had become separated. Echo hoped her friend was still safe.

When the party arrived at the ruins, the druid led them to a pair of stone pillars that still stood amongst the fallen rubble. There was very little left of the original structure, but the dwarves could tell this stonework was not made by their kind, nor did it have the elegant stylings of the elven people. What was most unusual was the silence. All through the forest and the ruins was a complete stillness. The elf, in particular, noticed the absence of the nocturnal noises that would usually fill the air on a night like this. Tanthalas had spent many seasons living in the woods and could count on one hand the number of times it had gotten this quiet at night.

It was never a good sign.

Pressing on, the group found a set of stairs descending into the dark near the pillars that Echo had showed them. They cautiously walked down, single-file, into the damp chamber below. Around them were the stone walls of a typical basement system. The old walls had the moist feeling of an underwater cave and in many places roots and other vegetation were pushing through the stone. The sound of water dripping, regularly, could be heard in the corners. Their torches sent flickering shadows dancing across the walls, but none of these made any sort of motion towards them.

Ahead of them lay the only way further into the ruins. Large wooden doors barred their way, but the druid was certain those had been open when she and Ikan had fled. Audak drew his blade, prepared for anything, as Al slowly stepped forward, careful to be listening for the sound of any approaching footsteps. Trying the door knobs, he found them locked, but this was of little concern to the dragonborn who had picked up a few interesting skills in his years in Vornstrand. Surreptitiously sliding a thin steel bar into the locking mechanism of the door, Al listened for the telltale sliding sound as the barring mechanism slid out of the way.

Slowly opening the door a crack to peek through, Al saw a dark hallway spreading out to each side and a pool of water before him, but otherwise no signs of anything. Stepping through the doorway, the dragonborn’s eyes picked up a shape lying against the wall on the other side of the door. Echo slipped noiselessly into the hall, bringing the light closer, only to cover her mouth in a look of despair.

“It’s Ikan!” the halfling whispered. “He must have stayed to try to trap the creatures here. Trying to save my worthless hide. Why did he have to be such a fool?”

Echo was clearly upset by the loss of her friend, but there was little time for comfort. Flynver and Tanthalas noticed it first – something moving in the light of their torches. The amorphous shape danced across the ceiling, trying to find a dark corner to hide but the entire hall was filled with the soft glow of their fires. On its own, it did not seem to have the desire to face the entire party of armed heroes. The darkness reached out a few times, testing the prey, but found only the taste of the elf’s magic blade as a reward. Before it could flee into the night, the ranger and wizard made short work of the dark shadow, ending its terror.

Brylla, ever the investigator, knelt down next to Ikan’s body. There were no marks of violence upon the druid, almost as if he had fallen asleep. All of his belongings were still upon him, including some personal effects. Thegman handed these few items, which would have meant much to Ikan, to Echo who cradled them in her small hands. The halfling stared at her friend’s belongings not wanting to accept that this was the end. A change slowly came across her face as the druids eyes seemed to steel over. Echo tucked the items into an inner pocket of her robe and straightened her tiny frame.

“All right. Who’s ready to get some revenge?”

Credits

• Writing credit: Inspiration taken from session notes by Matthew Moran.
• Cover image: “Village burning by the shore”, generated by TabletopAI using Midjourney (sourced from: https://www.deviantart.com/tabletopai/art/Village-burning-by-the-shore-940464993)
• Shadow image: “RPO+SCP” by Fufurigate (sourced from https://github.com/billythegoat356/Riptide )