Fantasy

Where the River Watches

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Now for the next Zine of the year I present, in single page zine format, Where the River Watches. I still believe that these provide DMs a lot more freedom to tinker with it how they want and open up the adventures to be more free formed and flowing than the larger booklet zines.

There is references to the blog nights which are D&D centric but it can easily use the adversary stat-blocks highlighted in Friday nights post if you’re running Daggerheart. As always Kobold fight club can be used to quickly balance an encounter for Dungeons and Dragons and Tetra-cube provides the stat-blocks for many of my D&D creatures.

So I hope you enjoy this weeks adventure, Where the River Watches, and that all your rolls are made with advantage.

Where the River Watches

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Where the River Watches – Created in copilot.

The Riverfall Harvest Festival began as it always had, with villagers gathering along the banks to paint lanterns with symbols of luck and abundance. The air was warm with autumn’s breath, and the sky bloomed with light as glowing orbs drifted upward like stars born of celebration. But this year, something went wrong. As the party stood beside Mayor Talia Reed and Elder Rinn, honoured guests for past deeds, a gasp rippled through the crowd. A sacred silver lantern, central to the ceremony, was struck mid-air by a blazing orb that tore across the sky like a falling star. It collided with a flash and plummeted into the river’s rapids, its light vanishing downstream. The festival ended not in joy but in silence. A search party scoured the river’s edge through the night, but by morning, the lantern was gone. Mayor Reed, pragmatic and concerned, summoned the adventurers again, this time with a promise of gold. Elder Rinn, heavy with old knowledge, warned that the lantern was no mere decoration. It carried a key bound to the river spirit itself, and if not recovered, the balance between tradition and nature could unravel.

Later, Elder Rinn stood over a recovered lantern, its frame still bound to the totem strings that had guided it home. His hands trembled as he traced its surface, revealing a silver feather that shimmered with moonlight. This relic, unlike the one lost to the river, held a feather rather than a key. Rinn explained that it was a tangible piece of the village’s pact with the river spirit, a bond outsiders could not fully grasp. Though the party had come to help, Rinn remained skeptical, warning that the river does not forget and that the fallen lantern was a sign of imbalance. As tensions rose, two children, Amal and Jessa, were seen eavesdropping before fleeing into the village. Mayor Reed revealed their tragic connection to the river, having lost their parents to its depths. She believed they still remembered, even if they could not understand the full truth. Rinn’s tone softened as he urged the party to recover the key before it fell into the wrong hands. The spirit, he warned, could restore what was lost, but at a terrible cost. Wishes twisted into shadows, and the river’s gifts came with a price. If the party truly wished to help, they must act not for reward but for the village’s survival.

At dawn, the party set out to investigate the lantern’s disappearance, beginning with Mayor Reed’s suggestion to find Amal and Jessa. Their search through Riverfall yielded nothing, and only after leaving the village did they encounter Jessa, battered and breathless, pointing silently toward the lake. She led them through treacherous terrain along the river, where villagers placed offerings into the water in solemn ritual. At the lake’s edge, Jessa collapsed from exhaustion but indicated a raft that had been dragged ashore. She gestured that something had gone wrong while she and Amal were on the lake. The party searched the area and found only one of Amal’s shoes, but just as they prepared to deliver the grim news, Amal emerged from the water, soaked and silent, holding a silver key wrapped in a reed. His voice was not his own, but something ancient and echoing. He repeated a chilling phrase about tribute and debt, and the river’s current began to reverse, flowing in the direction of his steps.

As Amal walked toward the village, nature itself seemed to recoil. Birds fell silent, a bear fled in fear, and the river followed him like a tide drawn to the moon. The party remembered Elder Rinn’s warning—the key was meant to seal a lock, not release it. When Amal entered Riverfall, the villagers froze. Rinn collapsed, pale and shaken, confirming what none dared speak. The river spirit had broken free and now walked among them. Word spread quickly as Amal wandered the outskirts of the village, the key clutched to his chest and moonlight glinting off his soaked clothes. The townsfolk began to fracture. Some whispered of sacrifices, others spoke of fleeing. And through the eyes of a lost boy, the river watched everything unfold.

Amal stood at the river’s edge, staring into its turbulent surface before turning to the party and his sister. He spoke only once, ‘The river awakes’, and the water fell silent. Moonlight shimmered across the surface like silver thread, and then the river bulged outward as if something immense stirred beneath. A low hum vibrated through the stones, resonating in the bones of those nearby like a primal warning. From the depths, a serpentine creature emerged, its snout rising ten feet above the surface, its body flowing like a living current. Scales shimmered in blues and silvers, casting shifting light across the riverbank. Its head was smooth and eyeless, reflecting the moonlight in swirling patterns, while glowing runes pulsed along its spine in rhythm with the night sky.

Water streamed from its form as it rose, towering above the party, cloaked in a sheen like sacred vestments. Mist curled from its breath, thick with the scent of stone and ancient offerings. The river followed its movements, drawn to it like a tide to the moon. In its presence, the world seemed to shrink, hushed beneath its gaze. It spoke not with words but with echoes and rumblings that filled the minds of nearby villagers, who began to repeat strange phrases. Amal echoed his earlier warning, but the message darkened. He spoke of tribute, of a debt to be paid in flesh and spirit, of the river’s hunger and freedom. It was not a threat but a promise, a force awakened by broken tradition. And as it loomed behind Amal, it watched the party, waiting.

PDF adventure – Where the River Watches

Where the River WatchesDownload

Thanks for joining me today for another adventure. Please feel free to leave comments if you like what you see when you grab a copy of the PDF. Next time you get a party together consider running this adventure and I hope that you enjoy it. Don’t forget to come back daily so you don’t miss a thing in the coming weeks adventures. And as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

The River Spirit

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Tonight we greet the River Spirit, powerful, commanding and dangerous. This creature commands the waterways near and around Riverfall and always demands a price for what it gives – and today it’s demanding payment.

So grab a coffee, maybe a net…? as we meet the River spirit in tonight’s encounter!

The River Spirit

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The River Spirit – Created in Copilot.

As Amal stood by the river and stared at the raging surface he turned to look at the party and his sister, Jessa, before uttering a single sentence. ‘The river awakes.’ and with that the river went still.

Moonlight rippled across the surface like silver thread across a mirror, and without warning the water bulged outward as if something vast stirred beneath. A low hum vibrated through the stones underfoot, resonating in the bones of every onlooker like a primordial call to nature itself. A warning of something to come, a herald of doom.

Then it rose.

A serpentine mass breached the surface, easily ten feet at its snout, its body undulating like a living current. Scales shimmered with iridescent blues and silvers, each one catching the moonlight and refracting it in shifting patterns across the riverbank. Its head, elongated and eel-like, bore no eyes only a smooth, glistening surface where reflections danced like eddies and whirlpools that caught the light like the scales of a fish under the waves. Faint runes pulsed along its spine and side, glowing in rhythm with the moon overhead.

Water cascaded from its form as it coiled upward, towering above the party as a deep sheen of water covered its body like a sacred vestment. Its breath , if it needed to breathe, sent mist curling through the air, thick with the scent of wet stone and ancient offerings. Where it moved, the river followed, drawn to it like a tide to the moon. And in its presence, the world felt quieter, smaller, like nothing before it mattered under its gaze and within its coils.

Then it spoke, not in words, but in layered echoes an rumblings that filled the minds of several villagers who began to repeat the same incoherent phrases repeatedly. A voice like rushing water and cracking rocks that spoke of the forces of nature, the life force of the spirit itself. It was then that Amal began to recite what he had first said to the party, but as he continued it changed, now something darker and more foreboding.

‘It rises with the moon. It will claim its tribute and the debt be settled. A tithe to be paid to the river itself, one of flesh and spirit and the river will be free once again to carve through this land.’ It was not a threat but a promise. It did not plead but it was simply a force of nature, bound by ritual, awakened by broken tradition and hungry like the flood consuming land and souls before it.

And it was waiting as it gazed at the party from just behind Amal.

For D&D Systems

D&D Statblock for River Sprit – created in Tetra-cube.

Thanks for visiting tonight for another set of updates for this weeks adventure. Don’t forget to come back over the weekend for more updates and lastly, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

Riverfall Crossing

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Tonight we have the encounter being set up around the Riverfall Crossing where we have something rather ancient and dangerous crawling out of the water. But that’s giving away something for tomorrow nights blog.

So grab a coffee, maybe an umbrella as we check out tonight’s map!

Riverfall Crossing

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Riverfall Crossing – Created in Inkarnate.

The village of Riverfall is split in two by the rapid river which will swiftly whisk away anything that falls within. The south of the river is where the fruit orchards grows with several buildings purpose built to house those that tend to them, or, to store the harvest from the trees.

To the north there are more buildings consisting of logs, mud and reeds that come from the river bank which house more of the villagers that make use of the rivers themselves.

Several large rocks are scattered in the river which are spaced close enough to hop across for the daring or foolish. However, they are slippery and many people have had to be rescued from the river after slipping on a slimy rock.

Thanks for joining for another map night this week. Don’t forget that we have a few more nights left this week so make sure to come back each day to see what I add to this adventure. And lastly, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

Elder Rinn

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The elder Rinn has concerns about the parties motivation to helping the village and especially when it was revealed that the river spirit is potentially involved. But despite his concerns the mayor enlists the parties help to recover the lantern and suggests talking to two orphans in the village to find out what they know.

So grab a coffee, maybe some food to go as we kick off into tonight’s adventure!

Elder Rinn

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The Elder Rinn stood over a silver lantern that they had managed to recover as they floated back down upon the strings that bound them to the totems that they were lashed to. As his weathered fingers trembling as he traced the remnants of the lantern while the other hand finished removing the woven reeds from around teh frame. ‘This was one of the sacred ones much like the one we lost to the river,’ he murmured, voice low and taut. ‘The other one held a key of sorts while this one held a feather.’ he said as he brought out a silver feather that seemed to shimmer with moonlight. ‘They are not just symbolic, but real relics of this villages past.’

He paused for some time as he sat down to watch the parties. ‘The key that was lost was bound to the river spirit itself. Not something that outsiders would know or care about’ The party exchanged uneasy glances. The party hadn’t known about the history of the ritual just that the festival itself was a highlight for many nearby villages and the people that called them home. Mayor Talia Reed stepped forward, her tone firm but sympathetic. ‘They didn’t mean harm, Rinn. They’re here to help.’

Rinn’s gaze lingered on the adventurers, his eyes like moss-covered stone, ancient and unmoving. ‘Help,’ he echoed, bitterly. ‘Outsiders always say that. But the river doesn’t forget. That lantern was part of the pact. Its fall is a warning to all those that take from it.’ Regardless how the party tried to explain the old druid was unconvinced until Rinn raised a hand to silence them. ‘If the spirit awakens fully, it may offer what fools crave most: restoration. But its power is not ours to wield.’ The tumbling of a pot from outside heralded eavesdroppers.

Two small figures darted away; bare feet slapping against the wooden board and mud that made up most of the walkways in the village. ‘Amal and Jessa’. The mayor sighed as he looked to the party. ‘They’re orphans,’ she said softly. ‘Lost their parents to the river two years ago. Jessa barely speaks. Amal… he’s not the same since he came back.’ Her voice faltered. ‘They listen because they remember. Even if they don’t understand.’

‘You must find the key before it’s claimed by something that doesn’t know the bargain that is demanded.’ Rinn’s expression shifted. Less suspicion now and more one filled with sorrow. ‘The river spirit can bring back the lost,’ he said, almost to himself. ‘But it doesn’t distinguish between soul and shadow and it always takes a price without asking. If the key is found by one who seeks only reunion, it may twist that wish into something else.’ He turned to the party. ‘If you indeed only do care to help us then you must find it before someone else does. Not for power. Not for glory. But to keep the balance.’

Mayor Reed nodded. ‘We’ll support you, and I know that you need to make a living as well.’ she said with a look at elder Rinn, ‘The villagers will too, once they see your intent.’ She looked toward the door where the children had fled. ‘Start with them. Jessa dreams in symbols. Amal… he’s drawn to the river. They may already be part of this.’

Outside, the moon hung low over Riverfall, casting silver light across the wheatfields and orchards that surrounded the river and its stones.

Thanks for visiting tonight for another update for this weeks adventure. Don’t forget to come back the last few nights this week to make sure that you don’t miss anything that happens with this adventure. And, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

The Harvest Moon Festival

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The Harvest moon festival is upon the bustling town of Riverfall and as they are preparing for the finale tragedy strikes. A lantern lost beneath the waves, an ancient prophecy and twisted dreams push the party towards dark paths and even darker times.

So grab a coffee, maybe some swimming gear as we kick off into another adventure!

As Riverfall prepares for its beloved Harvest Moon Festival, a silver lantern streaks across the sky and crashes into the river, sparking panic and whispers of ancient prophecy. The party is hired to recover its remains and decipher the runes said to awaken the Moonlit Serpent, a guardian long thought dormant. With the full moon fast approaching, the village teeters between celebration and catastrophe.

But Riverfall holds more than secrets in its waters. A missing boy, a silent witness, and a druid with fading trust in tradition point towards something dark on the horizon. A key doesn’t unlock or release some treasure but binds something deeper and seals it. Yet has someone already broken the seal?

The Harvest Moon Festival

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The Harvest Moon Festival – created in wordpress.

The soft hum of lanterns being painted drifted through the still warm autumn air as the villagers gathered on the riverbank and celebrated. Every year the glow of the lanterns painted the sky like hundreds of stars lit just for those who released them but as the party watched upwards at the first sacred lanterns to be lit a collective gasp rocked the gathered crowds.

The party had been requested to come at the call of Mayor Talia Reed and with Elder Rinn nearby, the villages sage and a druid of notable power, they watched a guests in honour due to the deeds that they had some before. But tonight as the party watched as a bright orb shot across the sky like a falling star until it connected with a bright spark into one of the sacred silver lanterns. And as they watched with the collective silent horror from the crowds around them the carcase crashed into the rapids of the river below as its light could be seen coursing downstream and fast.

The ceremony and festival deemed over the people went back and a small group of the villagers went out to try and locate the downed lantern. But by morning they reported it had been carried down the river too far and had lost sight of it. Mayor Talia and Elder Rinn asked for the party to visit them for an opportunity, a chest of gold if they could recover the lantern.

Thanks for visiting for another start of the week adventure kick off night. Don’t forget to come around for more adventure crafting tomorrow and the rest of the week as we continue to grow and expand this adventure into something memorable for our parties. And lastly, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

Cleardraw Conspiracy

thebrazenwolfe1 Comment

Now for the next Zine of the year I present, in single page zine format, Cleardraw Conspiracy. I still believe that these provide DMs a lot more freedom to tinker with it how they want and open up the adventures to be more free formed and flowing than the larger booklet zines.

There is references to the blog nights which are D&D centric but it can easily use the adversary stat-blocks highlighted in Friday nights post if you’re running Daggerheart. As always Kobold fight club can be used to quickly balance an encounter for Dungeons and Dragons and Tetra-cube provides the stat-blocks for many of my D&D creatures.

So I hope you enjoy this weeks adventure, Cleardraw Conspiracy, and that all your rolls are made with advantage.

Cleardraw Conspiracy

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Cleardraw Conspiracy – Created in Copilot

Through the twilight-shrouded streets of Cleveral, the city mourned beneath banners of sacred blue and gold, honoring Carlo Cleardraw, the twice-blessed hero thought to be unshakable. His funeral procession moved with solemn reverence, petals and prayers scattered for the man who had been a beacon against darkness and a voice of divine purpose. But as the procession reached the temple of Auronel and the coffin was placed at the altar, its lid split open after a bearer’s faltering grip, and the impossible was revealed. The coffin was empty.

Confusion and panic erupted within the temple’s sanctum as divine wards sealed the mourners inside. The high priest, stunned but steadfast, declared that Carlo’s death defied divine law; no illness nor blade should have taken him. Within the casket lay only a trace of ash and a pale blue feather, an echo of Auronel’s presence, sacred and ominous. Whispers stirred that Carlo had not died, but vanished through means older and stranger than death itself. In the feather’s glow and the priest’s trembling voice, the room breathed an unrest no prayer could soothe.

Within the temple’s quiet chambers, three casket bearers met with the party, worn from travel, heavy with memory. Tharen, the seasoned warrior, spoke of Carlo’s recent heroism; Brenna, the dwarf rogue, shared her sorrow at his unwavering belief in her. And Elaric, the older cleric, recounted a strange wound delivered in battle, one he had dismissed until now. Their recollections spiralled into guilt, suspecting that they should have seen the signs. But Elaric’s pious serenity began to crack, and the party felt unease settle like dust. Something in his tale did not align with Carlo’s fate.

That fracture split open when Brenna, consumed by fury, dragged Elaric before the group. She accused him of betrayal—that he had delivered Carlo into a trap masked as divine mandate. Elaric confessed to being manipulated by Imiriel’s high priests, who claimed Carlo’s blessings endangered cosmic balance. Twisting silence into duty, they had convinced him sacrifice was necessary. His remorse was deep, his gods distant, and his faith shaken. As Brenna hurled a prayer crystal and Carlo’s journal at his feet, Elaric’s grief turned to resolve.

The journal revealed Carlo’s final thoughts, a warning and a plea, hinting at knowledge beyond his fate. Elaric read the words and begged for redemption, offering to lead the party to Carlo’s prison beneath Imiriel’s church. A single feather descended as he knelt, a soft seal of divine acknowledgment, not of forgiveness, but of purpose yet unfulfilled. The party, raw from betrayal and aching with hope, chose action over doubt. Carlo’s story was not over.

Guided by Elaric, they found their way to the forgotten church, a place quiet in distance but thrumming with foul magic. Outside its sealed chamber, the air pulsed with corrupted essence. Elaric’s face twisted between fury and regret as he realized the depth of his error. With trembling hands, he pushed open the final door, and within, Carlo hung in cursed chains, his light siphoned, his soul endangered. The party had arrived at the brink, and their next steps would not be taken lightly.

PDF adventure – Cleardraw Conspiracy

Cleardraw ConspiracyDownload

Thanks for joining me today for another adventure. Please feel free to leave comments if you like what you see when you grab a copy of the PDF. Next time you get a party together consider running this adventure and I hope that you enjoy it. Don’t forget to come back daily so you don’t miss a thing in the coming weeks adventures. And as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

Imiriel’s Fallen

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Tonight we find ourselves face to face with Imiriel’s fallen high priests who believe whole heartedly that they serve their god and in the purity of their actions.

So grab a coffee, maybe some bolt cutters as we try to pry Carlo Cleardraw free in tonight’s encounter!

Imiriel’s Fallen

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The highpriests of Imiriel are mid-tier encounters for an adventuring party considering that there is two of them. Being able to hit a few opponents at once and to also, controversial, raise their fallen allies and call down flames from the sky, these enemies will make for a challenging encounter.

For D&D Systems

D&D Statblock for Highpriest of Imiriel – created in Tetra-cube.

For Daggerheart Systems

The above Adversary Stat blocks were sourced from the Daggerheart System Reference Document 1.0 and are the copyright of DRP, Darrington Press, who are the creators of the material (Adversary Stat Blocks). This content was not modified is licensed under the DRP Community Gaming License which can be found here: Darrington Press CGL.

The Secret-keeper is what would represent the creature for tonight. They are strong leader adversaries that can summon a hound pack to keep their enemies at bay. I believe they would start with a few shadowy-demon hounds at the edge of the room to act as watch dogs before the party truly engage them. The Secret-keeper continuing to spotlight the demonic hound pack where possible to generate fear a could be a very strong opponent.

The challenge here is not having two minor demons show up if you have more than one secret-keeper. I’d thematically have it that they both just fall and summon a single demon and give it some slight buffs to make it Tier 2 – or keep it as it is. The hounds and the demon will be enough for most.

Thanks for visiting tonight for another set of updates for this weeks adventure featuring some additional Daggerheart content. Don’t forget to come back over the weekend for more updates and lastly, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

Imiriel’s Forgotten Church

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Tonight the party venture into Imiriel’s Forgotten Church to rescue Carlo Cleardraw. But are they too late to save the twice blessed warrior?

So grab a coffee, maybe a bottle of holy water as we check out tonight’s map!

Imiriel’s Forgotten Church

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Imiriel’s Forgotten Church – Created in Inkarnate.

The pulses of foul magic can be felt from outside the doors at the end of the tunnels and the conflicted look of concern and rage danced upon the clerics face as he realised the error in what he was taught. Pushing against the doors he opened to the chamber where Carlo Cleardraw was suspended from chains as dark magic ripped essence from his chest.

Imiriel’s Forgotten Church – gridded – Created in Inkarnate.

Thanks for joining for another map night this week. Don’t forget that we have a few more nights left this week so make sure to come back each day to see what I add to this adventure. And lastly, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

The Summers Clasp

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The adventuring group known as the Summers Clasp were the last to travel and adventure along side Carlo Cleardraw. They also have something to hide, well one of them does, and their account doesn’t feel right.

So grab a coffee, maybe a note pad as we listen to the potential last moments of Carlo Cleardraw in tonight’s adventure!

The Summers Clasp

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The Summers Clasp adventuring group- Created in copilot.

The temple’s inner chamber had quieted, its enchantments holding outside sound at bay despite the coffin being up righted and the doors opened again. The party stood in a small alcove flanked by stone reliefs of celestial victories, carved in the days before Carlo had earned his name among them. Three of the coffin bearers remained behind, separated from the crowd. They all wore the signs of recent travel: scraped armour, worn cloaks, and exhaustion that ran less deep than their grief.

The party and the trio were shown to a small room and given some wine to help calm their nerves. After a few moments the warrior spoke first, his voice cracked and low. He was broad-shouldered and thick-necked, but his posture betrayed no pride. ‘I owe him everything,’ he said, eyes fixed on a point beyond the party. ‘Two weeks ago I’d have bled out in the Obsidian Pass if he hadn’t thrown me out of the fire’s path.’ His fingers curled into fists. ‘He was still strong then. Still himself.’ He offered no answers, only admiration, and the kind of quiet that comes from watching a living legend fall.

Beside him, the young dwarf rogue stared down at her boots, her voice no louder than the wind through the stones. ‘He made me see I could be more than a shadow in someone else’s tale. Even when I broke ranks… even when I failed.’ She quickly rubbed her sleeve across her eyes. ‘He pulled me out of that ruin when it collapsed. Didn’t hesitate. Just smiled and said I’d did a good job at finding scouting ahead.’ She couldn’t look at the party.

The older cleric stepped forward, adjusting the mantle over his weathered robes. Unlike the others, his expression held something unreadable; composure honed from years of preaching his doctrine. ‘I saw him fall,’ he said, his voice catching lightly, ‘we were deep in the wizard’s sanctum. The air was thick with enchantment, and the wizards apprentices stepped through the plane like shadows.’ He paused, carefully. ‘One of them, one I believe, cut him across the chest with a dark red dagger. I… I thought nothing of it until now as he was so strong and he stood and he was the twice blessed. Nothing could have killed him. That’s what I thought at least.’

The trio exchanged glances, their thoughts echoed across their faces; splintering under the weight of the clerics words. If Carlo, twice-blessed, had truly been struck down in combat by some form of cursed blade and dying later from wounds that had unimpeded him, not phased him until after they had all returned. Guilt crept in uninvited, winding through the silence as they all felt like they could, no should have saved him from the blade if they were just a bit more. Their shoulders sagged. Their hearts, already shaken, began to fracture visibly in their expressions.

But the cleric; whose god was not Auronel nor Vorthuun, held up a hand. His voice grew gentle, almost rehearsed. ‘There is a plan for all of us. Perhaps not ours to understand, but shaped nonetheless. I just hope that the plan with Carlo finds meaning.’ He stepped back slightly, squeezing the shoulder of the dwarven rogue, allowing his words to settle. ‘The blame doesn’t belong to you. We all stood with him. And we all lost something, we all did something wrong in that quest.’

And yet something lingered. A flicker of restraint in the cleric’s tone. Though the party largely accepted his account, unease remained. His eyes had flinched too briefly when describing the wound. His certainty sounded practiced. Whether it was grief or something else left unsaid, the party could not be sure. But in that moment, they held to his reassurance as a fragile shield against what truly gnawed at them: not just that Carlo was gone, but that they had no idea how, or why.

Thanks for visiting tonight for another update for this weeks adventure. Don’t forget to come back the last few nights this week to make sure that you don’t miss anything that happens with this adventure. And, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe

Funeral Procession

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This week we have a bit more of a sombre kick off to this weeks adventure with a funeral procession that takes quite the twist. But tonight is just the tip of the iceberg in this weeks adventure and the outcome is not something you’d expect.

So grab a coffee, an extra one hundred foot of rope as we dive into tonight’s adventure!

The sudden death of the hero twice blessed by the gods came to a shock to not only the entire populace of Cleveral but to the party as well. Having defeated armies, slain demons, devils and all matter of undead single handed ,Carlo Cleardraw was a force to be reckoned with and even the high priests of the holy city of Cleveral had asked for his help.

That is why his death was such as shock, but not as much of as shock as discovering the casket that bore him to his final resting spot being empty. Now there is a mystery to be solved and there is not much time before it’s too late to find the truth.

Funeral Procession

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Funeral Procession – created in Copilot

The streets of Cleveral stood hushed beneath a veil of mourning. Silks of blue and gold fluttered from archways and balconies, colours sacred to the gods that had twice blessed Carlo Cleardraw. The city’s grand procession moved slowly through the cobbled main avenue, lined with citizens who whispered prayers and scattered petals as the coffin passed. It was a solemn tribute to a man thought larger than life; a blade against darkness, a symbol of divine favour and a voice of the people and all that was good in this world.

The party moved silently behind the casket, their heads bowed though their eyes watched everything. Each of them carried the weight of a shared past with Carlo, and now, the crushing disbelief of his sudden death. The temple of Auronel stood at the end of the street, its spires carved with constellations and celestial script, glowing faintly in the twilight. The casket was to be laid before the altar of memory, blessed by the high priest, and finally sealed beneath the temple’s sanctified crypt.

Inside the temple, candlelight danced over polished stone and sacred relics. Only a chosen few were permitted entry, the party among them, alongside a handful of Carlo’s closest confidants and comrades from previous adventures. As the procession moved forward down the nave, the casket wobbled as the bearers grief echoed that of the populace of the holy city. The wobbling was slight at first until one of Carlo’s old companions faltered as they misjudged a a step, dropping their end of the weight with an audible cry of shock and horror. It struck the dais with a hollow thud. The lid split open to a chorus of alarm, fear and sorrow echoing out.

Gasps echoed off the temple walls, rising sharply as shadows peeled away to reveal an unbearable truth: the coffin was empty. Panic surged; a hush of reverence torn open into a cacophony of confusion and fear. The high priest of Auronel, silver-robed and wide-eyed, rushed forward. With a gesture and a sacred phrase, the temple doors slammed shut behind the gathered mourners, sealing the interior with divine command.

A murmur of enchantment suffused the room, binding secrecy to every tongue present and sealing away magic until the prayer was rescinded. The high priest raised his hands, voice trembling yet resolute, as he implored all those present, especially the party, to uncover the mystery. ‘Carlo would not fall to fang or flame,’ he said his soft and kind face looking between the coffin and those gathered – Carlo’s trusted few, ‘nor to illness, nor curse. No blade in this world could find his heart not even if he welcomed it. The gods that blessed him would not have it.’

The implications hung heavy in the charged stillness. Had Carlo truly died or had something older, stranger or twisted stolen his body before burial? If it were a deception, then for what purpose? If it were a theft… then by whom and for what purpose? The party glanced between one another, each wrestling with disbelief.

Whispers rose as the high priest lifted his staff, the head shaped in twin sigil’s, one for Auronel, god of grace and healing, the other for Vorthuun, deity of judgment and fire. These were the patrons who had marked Carlo Cleardraw in life. Twice-blessed, they called him, the champion of both mercy and wrath. To all gathered, his death should have been impossible. Yet here they stood without proof which or either way.

The priest turned slowly, his voice echoing across marble and stained glass. ‘Auronel does not abandon chosen souls to the silence of the void,’ he declared, ‘and Vorthuun suffers no theft of fate.’ That Carlo’s body was gone, vanished without trace was not merely sacrilege; it defied the edicts of two divine powers whose marks cannot be simply erased.

A subtle pressure filled the air, as if the temple itself recoiled from the implications. Golden light from the suspended sunstones overhead flickered, dimming as a breeze stirred though the sealed chamber, wind without source, whispering through robes and curls. It carried a voice, fractured and low. Not all heard it, but those attuned to the arcane felt it hum within their ribs. It was not grief that lingered here. It was contradiction.

The party moved closer to the casket. Some stared as though expecting Carlo to appear within it after all, as if the gods might rewind reality. But all that remained was a trace of ash and a single feather, luminous and pale blue. Not angelic, but deeply sacred, an echo of Auronel’s presence, known to manifest only at moments of ascension or divine refusal. It was not left casually.

A member of the casket bearers knelt, touching the feather, and for a breathless second, everyone felt the echo of Carlo’s voice. Not speech, not memory, but a feeling of unrest. He was not at peace. The high priest’s gaze sharpened. ‘This is not the end of Carlo Cleardraw,’ he said quietly with a sigh of relief which then turned dark as Vorthunn’s influence flickered like an ember. This sign was not as reassurance but as warning of the time ahead.

Thanks for visiting for another start of the week adventure kick off night. Don’t forget to come around for more adventure crafting tomorrow and the rest of the week as we continue to grow and expand this adventure into something memorable for our parties. And lastly, as always, don’t forget to roll with advantage,
The Brazen Wolfe