Setting Description
The journey back to Balandel takes you through forests that grow evermore serene the closer you come to city. Trees stretch taller, their bark smooth as marble, their leaves glowing faintly in the dimming light. The air itself feels clearer, touched by something old and watchful.
Then you see it.
The spires of Balandel rise from the forest like a blossom in eternal spring, towers of white stone and living wood wrapped in vines that never fade. Birds perch on stained-glass balconies, silent.
A robed man steps from the trees as you near the palace gates. He inclines his head.
“The Queen is expecting you.”
Without another word, he turns and leads you through halls of ivy and crystal light to the audience chamber: a circular space open to the sky, its floor a mosaic of emerald leaves and silver roots.
Queen Sylanthiel stands at the center, gazing toward the treetops.
“You’ve returned,” she says. “And so I must ask: what did you find?”
DC 15 Insight: Her voice is calm, as always—but there’s something underneath it. A tension barely concealed, like the taut string of a drawn bow.
Let the players describe what they saw and did at the grove. She listens in complete silence.
Aelra’s Response
DC 18 Perception:
As you finish, she moves her hand (just barely) and you catch it: her fingers brush the green-silver ring at her finger. Not a nervous gesture, more like… habit. Or need.
She responds:
“I had hoped it was only minor corruption,” she says, “but if the blight reached that grove…” Her gaze drops, and her poise seems to falter. “The balance is beginning to break.”
If Pressed (About the Ring, the Groves, the Corruption)
She doesn’t give everything away yet, but here’s how she deflects:
“The groves are sacred. Their weakening endangers more than just our borders—it unravels the threads that hold this entire realm together.”
“You must understand, peace is not the absence of war. It is the preservation of something fragile, held together by sacrifice and silence. I have made both.”
Let her show that her decision was burdensome—but framed as necessary.
When the Party Pushes Further (or Mentions the Ring Directly)
She turns, sharply now, and for a moment there’s fire behind her eyes—not rage, but something older. Fear, perhaps. Pride.
“There are truths you are not ready to carry. What protects Vel Enweir was never meant to be disturbed. Least of all by those who do not understand what would happen if it fails.”
She’s not ready to admit that she is bound to the ring, or that the ring is unnatural—but the cracks are showing. Then:
Scene Closing
She takes a breath, straightens, and her voice cools again.
“You have done what I asked. You’ve earned rest, and the right to ask questions. But tread carefully. There are parts of the forest even its Queen does not walk lightly.”
She turns and walks toward a winding staircase of flowering stone. As she steps into shadow, you notice the light around her dims—not from the sun, but from something else pulling inward.
DC 18 Arcana or Detect Magic: You notice light bending strangely around her hand.
The Scarlet Shield Tavern
The Thistle’s Research
The tavern hums with low conversation, clinking mugs, and the crackle of a fire in the stone hearth. The scent of roasted root vegetables, spiced meats, and honeyed bread fills the air.
It’s a welcoming place—busy but not crowded. Elves, dwarves, and humans share long tables, a few feykin laugh near the bar, and a bard plucks absentmindedly at a lute in the corner.
Finn and Tilly Thistle wave from a corner booth.
“Over here!”
As the party approaches, Finn grins and pushes aside a stack of scrolls.
Finn presents their first bit of research on Vel Seryn.
Interrupting Waiter
As you speak, a human waiter approaches—maybe mid-twenties, thin, pale-eyed, and clearly a little nervous. His name is Garrin Dace. He hesitates before speaking, glancing over his shoulder once.
“Um—sorry to interrupt. Are you… adventurers?”
He fidgets with his apron.
“I—look, it’s probably nothing. But my friend, Alith Vaelrin—he works here. Or, well, did. He hasn’t shown up in three days. No word. It’s not like him at all. Can you look for him?”
When asked for more info:
“We’ve been friends since I moved here four years ago. He even invited me to his cousin’s wedding two years back—even though, y’know, humans don’t usually get invited to elven ceremonies.”
He offers a tight, bittersweet smile.
“That night was… it was bad. There was an explosion. The kitchen went up—some kind of alchemical fire, they said. But it spread fast. Too fast. The whole manor burned to the ground before anyone could stop it.”
He swallows hard and looks away for a second.
“Everyone in his family died. Parents. Siblings. Aunts, uncles…”
“He and I were the only ones who got out. I was outside. He was in the garden, thank the stars. Just stepped out to get air. If he hadn’t—”
He cuts himself off, shaking his head.
“Anyway. He doesn’t have anyone else. And now he’s gone. I know it’s not your job, but if you can… maybe just look into it? Please? Last I heard from him he was going to pay his respects at the family crypt, like he does every Saturday.”
He can show them where the Crypt of House Vaelrin is on the map.