Scenario: The Horrors of Hillsbrook Valley

"Crouched in the bushes, Sister Ristea panted. Her breath stank like a gourd rotting in the sun, and the blood-filled growths on her arm looked like just that. Unless she found help soon the repentant thief realized that she'd end up like the other floating corpses haunting the fields. She grit her teeth. With luck, she could be back in the cloister by nightfall and Mother Alda or the hospitilar might be able to save her. However, then the convent's best chance to get help would be lost. Ristea rubbed at her cloudy eye, cursed, and whispered an apology to her diety. Pressing on likely meant death, either from the rot consuming her body or at the end of a fey's wicked blade.

A branch snapped behind her.

On the lurking danger, Sister Ristea didn't hesitate. She whirled toward the noise, short sword ready. Her head swam.

A bobcat, likewise infected with the strange contagion, slinked from the overgrowth. No, this was no simple feline. Intelligence glittered in its feverish gaze. The creature confirmed her suspicion by speaking in low, growling tones.

"I have been instructed to follow you, milady." The bilge cat spread its forelimbs wide and bowed low. Its single ear twitched. "I have chosen a different meaning than that fool you stabbed meant. Thusly, I await your orders, mortal. Chose wisely, or I may just change my mind. We cats are fickle after all."

Sister Ristea grinned.

Encounter Premise:

Insulted by an cloistered order of healers, the Duke of Autumn’s End has charged a Rookery Crone in his service to lay siege to the faithful. With squads of Lesionnaires and Bilge Cats, flights of Hagfisher, and a Boil at her disposal the hag has transformed the surrounding orchards into a tableau of disease and horror. As the harvest rot spreads the victims rise again as Bubonic Drifters
haunting farms, fields, and roads alike. The convent still holds fast, but who knows for how long.

Location:

Dedicated to a deity of healing suitable to the campaign, the Convent of Quiet Grace lays in the heart of Hillsbrook Valley. While out of the way from most population centers Hillsbrook Valley usually sees regular travel from merchants filling their wagons with its bounty. The local farms are famous for their varied apple orchards and every year the Convent of Quiet Grace hosts an apple festival to celebrate the harvest and community. This last year agents of Lord Fallowfields, the Duke of Autumn’s End, attempted to infect the festival’s celebrants with harvest rot but was thwarted by members of the convent. As this year's apple festival nears the archfey intends to have his revenge.

Suggested Presentation:

Adventurers could encounter the Horror of Hillsbrook in a variety of ways. Perhaps the party is traveling to the valley to indulge in the annual apple festival. On the other hand, the local authorities may have learned of the area’s plight from a farmer who managed to escape and needs heroes to investigate. If one of the player characters is a good-aligned cleric their deity could task them with relieving the cloister, or in the case of a fey-pact cleric their patron could. A myriad of reasons can bring heroes to Hillsbrook Valley. They will need all their strength and wits to ever leave it.

A solid first encounter would be one to three bubonic drifters haunting the road into the valley. Given their slow movement and muted damage ability the drifters shouldn’t be too difficult if attacked from range. If melee ensues though it is entirely possible that one or more player characters will be infected with Harvest Rot, and the clock starts ticking.

As the heroes travel deeper into the valley they could pass dilapidated houses and fields gone to sod. Worse still, the corpses lying amid unkempt fields will float up into the air if disturbed, as they are merely bubonic drifters at rest. A fine way to put the players on edge is to detail a dozen or more of the floating zombies lingering about a roadhouse that the characters can see from far off atop a hill. Avoiding the monster cluster should be easy if the heroes are willing to venture into the wilds.

Next, the heroes run across a squadron of lesionnaires searching for Sister Ristea. A former rogue, Sister Ristea, was charged with sneaking out of the valley and getting help, but is now injured and infected with Harvest Rot. However, a rebellious bilge cat has come to her aid. This fey animal, Berichul, will approach the heroes in the aftermath of the fight. Alternatively, if the battle isn’t going in the player character’s favor Berichul can down a lesionnaire on the edges and urge the adventurers to follow him to safety. Either way, the feline will lead the characters to Sister Ristea’s hiding spot, an abandoned stable.

The rogue turned acolyte will provide what information she can about the siege, the strange fey, and her plan to get help. Berichul will fill in the rest, detailing Ailesvintha’s command and cauldron. Sister Ristea will emphasize that the land directly around the convent is thick with bubonic drifters. However, she was able to use a long-disused drainage tunnel to get out. If the party could make it past the undead horde they could use it to get in. However, Berichul assures the heroes that if they take the direct route and kill Ailesvintha and destroy her Cauldron that the bubonic drifters will take care of themselves. After that, the remaining lesionnaries will likely retreat.

Here the players have a choice; either sneak into the convent or bring the fight to the rookery crone.

If the adventurers elect to sneak into the Convent of Quiet Grace Berichul will be disappointed but remain with Sister Ristea. The heroes will find the cloister surrounded by dozens of bubonic drifters and would have to be foolhardy to attack them. Instead, using the drainage tunnel to slip in should be the best option, as long as they can sneak past the pool of zombies. Should they make it inside they will meet Mother Alda and Hospitilar Ostara and hear their dueling points of view.

If the adventurers seek out Ailesvintha and her Cauldron, following Berichul’s directions, they will find the rookery crone, cauldron and hagfishers occupying a crumbling standing circle of megalith stones. Unfortunately, the nearby farmhouses are occupied by Blisterbrow, the lesionnaire commander, and his troops. This presents the player characters with a dilemma. The lesionnaire forces will need to be eliminated before assaulting the stone circle or the heroes will likely be overwhelmed. There should be a couple of ways to accomplish this, from hit and run tactics, to luring the fey soldiers out into traps, or perhaps exploiting Blisterbrow’s distaste for Ailesvintha if done properly.

Once Blisterbrow has been taken care of all that remains is slaying Ailesvintha. The rookery crown will not go down without a fight, nor is she likely to be caught unaware. Two of her four hagfishers are always perched on or flying around the standing stones. In the center sits the Cauldron and the rookery crone will not stray far from it. In the end, she and the Cauldron is destroyed the bubonic drifters across Hillsbrook Valley will sink to the ground, perish, and rot as normal. Blisterbrow, if he lives, and any remaining lesionnaries will flee back to the feywild. The Convent of Quiet Grace will be saved, but it will be generations before the land recovers.

Given the challenge rating of the monsters in this scenario it is intended for around 5th to 7th level characters, but could be scaled higher by simpling adding more lesionnaires or supplementing their forces with a higher CR fey such as a Deadwood. In the other direction, Blisterbrow’s forces could be merely a small contingent of guards for Ailesvintha stretched thin by scouting the area, thus reducing their numbers. A dungeon master is going to know his player characters best and should tailor encounter sizes accordingly. Likewise, a dungeon master is free to provide whatever treasures and final reward they see fit for their campaign.

Antagonists:

Ailesvintha the Bent. If not for the degeneration of her very bones Ailesvintha would stand as tall and terrible as her sisters. However, such is the price to pay for being in Lord Fallowfield’s service. Yet, the Duke allows Ailesvintha to indulge her sadistic tendencies, even encourages them and for that the hag is grateful. Because of this, and the trust her bastard lord puts in her, Ailesvintha weathers the disdain of her kin. She sees the ‘insult’ given to Lord Fallowfields as a personal slight as well and intends to prove once again she is among the best of his courtiers despite being low born. Ailesvintha is never without her four hagfishers who she treats like a doting mother.

She knows, however, that Lord Fallowfields is a fickle master. While Commander Blisterbrow, the lead lesionnaire, demands a direct assault on the Convent of Quite Grace Ailesvintha doesn’t want to risk damage to the Cauldron or the loss of too many troops. The hag would rather starve the women out first, killing them a few at a time. Fey are timeless after all, and mortals are just that; mortal.

Her crooked body is enrobed in a charcoal robe of spider-silk embroidered with sparkling direfly shells. Her chitin ‘cloak’ is tattered at the edges, Harvest Rot buboes hanging from its seams. Ailesvintha also wears a circlet of bejeweled honeycomb and iron as a display of her rank.

The Cauldron. One of the dreaded boils this semi-sentient construct exists solely to spread Harvest Rot among hapless nobles. Bound to Ailesvintha the Cauldron is rarely out the crone’s sight. This has stymied the radius of infection to only the cloister’s outlying farms. The hag is too paranoid about losing this precious gift bestowed on her by the Duke of Autumn’s End to risk it. The Cauldron looks like any other boil. Unlike normal boils, however, when the Cauldron is destroyed the bubonic drifters in Hillsbrook Valley will deflate and die.

Blisterbrow, lesionnaire commander. Blisterbrow would like nothing more than to run his sword through Ailesvintha’s back, take control of this foray, raze the Convent of Quiet Grace, and leave the material plane as soon as possible. Instead, he is bound to follow her incompetent orders and be ignored whenever he offers a better alternative. He’d rather deploy the Cauldron directly into the cloister and let it do its work. Once the women inside are weakened, Blisterbrow would directly assault the building.

Blisterbrow’s namesake comes from the constantly seeping wounds across his forehead. Because of this the commander’s helmet is encrusted in place by dried gunk and couldn’t be removed without serious harm. The crested helm thusly hasn’t been cleaned or repaired in quite sometime granting him a distinct appearance. Like other commanders he wears a soiled burial shroud as a cloak, clasped by gilded, skeletal hands. Otherwise, Blisterbrow looks like the other lesionnaires; greasy, unkempt and diseased.

Allies:

Hospitilar Ostara. Wizened in years and hardened by battle Ostara saw being stationed at the Convent of Quite Grace as something akin to a well-earned retirement. Much to her chagrin trouble has landed on her doorstep with the fey siege. While Ostara is skilled she is too old to face Ailesvintha’s forces by herself. Instead, the aged paladin struggles to keep the cloistered sisters safe within the convent’s walls. She and Mother Alda have recently started butting heads, however, over this tactic with Mother Alda advocating on making a run for it. Ostara, however, is fervent in belief that faith will see the sisters through. Her immunity to disease and other paladin abilities can assist the player characters if she is recruited.

Her blond hair is mostly ashen in hue at this point, bound back into a tight braid. Crows feet flank Ostara’s soulful brown eyes which portray a fervor and intelligence as sharp as ever. The paladin retains her beauty despite her years and a scarred lip that lends the impression of a perpetual scowl. Unpacking her armor and weapons Ostara patrols the halls in well-used full plate. She carries an equally battered shield and some manner of a magical longsword. Ostara also wears a bracer made from a fallen compatriot’s prayer beads and armor as a reminder.

Mother Alda. Beneath a no-nonsense exterior lays a soft heart within Mother Alda. For decades she’s tended to the women of the convent’s spiritual needs and been a pillar of the community among the small farms lining Hillsbrook Valley. An accomplished apothecary and midwife many a local took their first breath in her hands. It pains the woman to no end to know so many of those poor souls have not only taken their last but now haunt blighted fields in a state of undeath. She disagrees with the convent’s guardian, Hospitaler Ostara, on what to do now. While the battle maiden insists on waiting for the siege out Mother Alda sees it as her duty to get her ‘girls’ away from this nightmare as soon as possible. She recently sent the quietest of their number, sister Ristea, out of the convent without Ostara knowing. She prays Ristea is successful and safe; Ristea is neither.

Mother Alda is a stately woman, her fine-boned face and regal bearing betraying her noble birth. However, Alda was born on the wrong side of the sheets and brought to the Convent of Quite Grace at an early age. Her lustrous, dark hair is usually worn pinned up, but grows more unkempt with each passing day from the stress. She is missing her right pinky finger from an accident with a farming implement in her youth. Alda wears simple, grey robes tied by a white sash along with comfortable sandals. A pouch with medicinal herbs and a pair of healing potions is always on her person. Lately she carries an apothocary’s bag with her wherever she goes, just in case.

Sister Ristea. A repentant thief, Sister Ristea is now having second thoughts about leaving the profession in light of current circumstances. Convinced by Mother Alda that they shouldn’t just wait inside the convent to die Ristea agreed to sneak out and seek help. All she’s discovered so far is that most of the neighboring farms are infested with the undead, that her skills are a bit rusty, and the occupying fey are tougher than they look. While she was able to slay a couple of lesionnaires Sister Ristea caught Harvest Rot in the process. With each passing hour her fever rises and buboes swell across her body, but Ristea refuses to give up hope. After the battle, she reluctantly accepted the help of an abandoned bilge cat, Berichul, who has helped guide her to the edge of the valley.

The mean streets and back alleys of uncivilized civilization left their mark on Sister Ristea. Scars lace the half-elf’s hairline and one of her eyes is cloudy from an injury she’d rather not talk about. She wears her blond hair short and can have a dagger in hand in the blink of an eye. Discarding her holy robes Ristea wears her studded leather armor but carries an amulet of her order.

Berichul, the bilge cat. Some might say that Berichul is oath-broken, the feline would counter that he is merely following his orders to the letter. Brought to the material plane as part of Ailesvintha the Bent’s forces the fey cat was displeased with the mission from the start. Not only does the rookery crone seem more intent on shoring up her reputation than winning the lesionnaire commander, Blisterbrow, grouses continuously about how he could do better behind the hag’s back. Besides, besieging a healer’s cloister and murdering farmers doesn’t garner much glory. Then again, most missions for Lord Fallowfields are like that. However, with its dying breath, the lesionnaire Berichul was bound to ordered the bilge cat to “follow her” meaning Sister Ristea. Twisting the meaning of the order Berichul chose to follow Ristea as if the former thief was his commander, for the time being at least. He continues to aid and protect her as she traverses Hillsbrook Valley.

Berichul is a typical fey of his species; all mange and rot. His right ear is little more than a tattered stump, the flesh around it ringed with scar tissue.

Ambiance:

To really make the horror of Hillsbrook Valley shine through focus on the blight and devastation.

Farmhouses and their surrounding structures are nothing but empty husks now. The fields around them badly in need of harvesting or gone to sod. Spoiled butter sits in churns, family belongings are covered with thick dust and the beds only recent occupants are cockroaches, maggots, or even the occasional direfly hive. The party could hear a barn cat or farm dog desperately calling for help from a building menaced by bubonic drifters only to be beyond saving due to Harvest Rot when discovered (or not if you don’t want to utterly crush your player’s spirits.)

Not only is the apple harvest not happening, but the fine orchards have become overgrown and covered with apples rotting on the ground. Bushel baskets sit half-filled with apples, and the other half with writhing maggots or direfly larva. Tattered decorations flutter in a prematurely-chilled breeze. An overturned cart blocks one of the roads, its collection of toys languishing in the mud never to be played with.

To keep in line with other excursions against the waning princes perhaps the trees of an orchard are infested and have become Lesser Deadwood, Swarm of Direflies might harass the adventurers as they camp over night.