The sun rose over Vel Enweir as the party gathered in the tavern common room. After a tense conversation, it was decided: Tilly Thistle, Finnathan Thistle, and Velara Kael would remain behind to research in the library, while the rest of the party journeyed east toward the corrupted glen of Vael’telor.
The forest trail was quiet (too quiet). As they traveled, they encountered an old woman named Granny Louise, who invited them into her cozy woodland cottage. At first, nothing seemed amiss. Her demeanor was pleasant, her pies warm. She claimed to be affiliated with the Culinary Guild of the Wandering Flame and said Bixby Wizzlethorpe himself had sent word to keep an eye out for the party. That name—along with her hospitality—earned their initial trust.
But when Lirielle mentioned she was a Diviner, something flickered in Granny Louise’s expression.
The pies had been enchanted. Momeline and Lirielle fell unconscious after a bite, though Lirielle’s magical resistance allowed her to rouse almost instantly. Dravencoles and Ferinthria sprang into action, grappling the hag—only to be savaged by her hidden claws. Ferinthria cast Hold Person, freezing her in place. Dravencoles revived Momeline by picking her up and dropping her violently on the floor. With the party regrouped, the battle turned.
Granny Louise unleashed terrifying spells, but Ferinthria and Lirielle countered her most dangerous attacks. When the witch finally fell, the party explored her home and discovered its horrific secrets: a ritual circle etched with a devil star, cages lining the walls. One held a dead woman, another a child with pale, unnatural eyes, and the last a captured elf man. They freed the captives, and the elf—grieving but grateful—explained the woman and child were his wife and daughter. He promised to get themselves to safety.
Lirielle, later sent a terse message via her familiar to Wizzlethorpe in Southaven, demanding clarification and essentially asking, “what the fuck?”
Pushing deeper into the woods, the party finally reached Vael’telor—and found it desecrated. The once-beautiful glade was littered with the bodies of treants, their limbs twisted in unnatural poses. Dravencoles scouted ahead but was ambushed by a shambling mound, formed from the remains of the fallen guardians. He fought valiantly, but the creature engulfed him. The rest of the party acted quickly, avoiding fire magic out of respect for the forest, and eventually brought the monstrosity down.
Amid the battle, Ferinthria’s wild magic triggered unexpectedly, teleporting her directly into the mound of treant corpses. She emerged with a tattered note clutched in her hand:
“If you find this, warn the others. They’re coming from the grove—something’s twisting the heart-tree. We tried to stop it.”
The trail of corruption led upstream, where the party found the broken bodies of druids, dryads, and treants scattered like fallen leaves. As they descended into a narrow gulley, Lirielle paused—recognizing faintly glowing runes carved into the rock. This place was sacred: a Sanctuary of the Verdant Flame, a hidden druid grove that should have been veiled from even the keenest eyes.
And yet, here they stood at its threshold.