The Red Pear Tree. The encounter below is written as the seventh floor of a dungeon within a towering, direfly infested tree bearing vile, red fruit the size of boulders. This is written as a Waning Princes scenario. This is written as a hard to dangerous encounter for level 10-11 player characters. Encounter A thick layer of dust covers the contents of this room. Just a few feet from a wooden staircase leading down lays a pristine corpse of an Animus Artisan . The dead fey is missing its iron arm and weapons. A mummified hand grips the artisan’s throat and wears a golden ring etched with eight skulls. From the coloration of the fey’s face and its bulging eyes, it’s clear the mummified hand strangled the artisan. Six massive, mechanical ganders crafted from brass and bronze sit equidistant from one another along the wall. Underneath each goose is a ruddy-stained basket. Likewise, there are old patches of crusty red goo here and there across the floor. The breast of one of

Haphazard, black feathers cover the fey’s scalp and spill down her back. While the dismay doesn’t have proper wings, the mangy plumage rips from the woman’s skin on strands of shadow whenever she takes to the air. Her face would be pretty if not for a blood-red, sharp beak instead of a proper mouth. Her skin is a shade darker than the feathers and is both leathery with age but firm with youth. She clothes herself in gray, backless night gown complete with ruffled sleeves. The dismay’s webbed talons peek out from underneath the fabric. Dismay Medium Fey, lawful evil Armor Class 14 Hit Points 65 (10d8 + 20) Speed 30ft Flight 30ft Str 12 Dex 18 Con 14 Int 10 Wis 14 Cha 16 Saving Throws Cha +5 Skills Insight +4, Perception +4 Damage Resistances lightning, thunder; bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing from nonmagical attacks that are

Many might underestimate the slim fey as she is armed only with a broom. That is, until the notice the broom's handle is fashioned from bones and its bristles from humanoid hair. The fickle factotum wears a simple brown dress and thick clogs made from a deadwood. Her fingers have two extra knuckles. The fey's face is a picture of youthful beauty surrounded by a halo of copper hair. However, her empty eye sockets ooze viscous, red tears. Fickle Factotum Medium Fey, lawful evil Armor Class 15 (natural armor) Hit Points 84 (13d8 + 26) Speed 30ft Str 14 Dex 16 Con 14 Int 12 Wis 12 Cha 16 Saving Throws Cha +5 Skills Investigation +3, Perception +3 Damage Resistances lightning Damage Immunities thunder Condition Immunities charmed, exhaustion Senses blindsight 30ft (blind beyond), passive Perception 13 Langua

This fey's forearms have been replaced with a crude prosthetic frame housing an accordion like device of reinforced vellum. The device squeezes and thumps on the inside of the thrumming scrapper's palm at the rate the fey desires. In addition to mere percussion, the brawler uses the uncanny contraption to break bones with its punches. It's bald head and once-handsome face bears many scars and distortions from the numerous brawls it's started. The thrumming scrapper wears a simple leather cuirass and woolen kilt bound by teeth-studded cords. Thrumming Scrapper Medium Fey, lawful evil Armor Class 12 (leather armor) Hit Points 52 (7d8 + 21) Speed 30ft Str 16 Dex 12 Con 16 Int 8 Wis 10 Cha 12 Saving Throws Str +5 Skills Performance +3 Damage Resistances lightning Damage Immunities thunder Condition Immun

Playing a flute fashion from a hollow thigh bone, this dark fey sways along to the dirge produced. So too does a floating dagger fashioned from the once attached fibula. The knife fifer's ears come to sharp points amid a crown of wild, auburn locks barely stuffed under a woolen cap. Their torso is bare and cadaverous, inked with notes and runes. While its feet are also bare, the knife fifer does wear a kilt fashioned from funeral shrouds and scalps. Knife Fifer Medium Fey, lawful evil Armor Class 14 Hit Points 39 (6d8+12) Speed 30ft Str 12 Dex 18 Con 14 Int 10 Wis 8 Cha 16 Saving Throws Char +5 Skills Performance +5 Damage Immunities thunder Damage Resistances lightning Condition Immunities charmed, exhaustion Senses darkvision 60ft, passive Perception 9 Languages common, sylvan Challenge 2 (450 XP)

The petty colt is an aristocratic woman with the lower half of an equine, specifically a nightmare. While some might call her features lovely, the fey wears an expression of hostility even as she cavorts and dances with alien grace. The fey wears a gossamer skirt that does little to hide her black-haired legs and smoldering hooves as well as a buttonless buff coat of aged leather. Petty Colt Medium Fey, lawful evil Armor Class 10 Hit Points 45 (7d8+14) Speed 30ft Str 14 Dex 11 Con 14 Int 10 Wis 10 Cha 13 Saving Throws Str +4 Skills Athletics +4, Performance +3 Damage Resistances lightning Condition Immunities charmed, exhaustion Senses darkvision 60ft, passive Perception 10 Languages common, sylvan Challenge 1 (200 XP) Crescendo. If the petty colt hits a creature with both of its stomp attac

Bound by crowns of blood-red honeycomb, the deposed fey lord bears finery worn to rags and a souls to match. His circlet digs deep into lacerated skull. The adornment forces the teeter toff to move unceasingly. Exhaustion has drawn his once-beautiful features hollow and his blood-shot eyes hold a unfathomablke ennui. His hair is a matted mess instead of a brilliant mane. The soles of his boots wore thin long ago and he leaves bloody footprints wherever he leaps. Teeter Toff Medium Fey, lawful evil Armor Class 13 Hit Points 44 (8d8+8) Speed 30ft Str 10 Dex 16 Con 12 Int 10 Wis 10 Cha 12 Saving Throws Dex +5 Skills Acrobatics +7 Damage Resistances thunder Condition Immunities charmed, exhaustion Senses darkvision 60ft, passive Perception 10 Languages common, sylvan Challenge 1 (200 XP) Leaper. The

Session Thirteen: The Will, Heart and Mind of Enuk'Lun An untamed frontier. Dark cults. Fickle fey gods. Ravenous fiends. Nothing black powder and sorcery won't fix... . Timberlands Campaign Diary The heroes realized after encountering the horror of Whitebark’s Grove that breaking the fey siege around the Convent of Quite Grace required more strength than they could muster alone. As the dark invaders closed in the champions fled to the eastern farmlands. It proved a grim retreat. While the group lost their pursuers, they drank in the breadth of devastation the waning court had wrought on the lands. Fields lay half harvested if touched at all, but already going fallow and thick with rot as if they’d been untended for months. Farmhouses fell apart as corrosion claimed their boards and nails. The rustic folk floated above it all, converted to bubonic drifters by the dread disease Harvest Rot . Into the night the heroes traveled. After hours of under the darkness of gatherin

Session Twelve: Bad Seeds An untamed frontier. Dark cults. Fickle fey gods. Ravenous fiends. Nothing black powder and sorcery won't fix... . Timberlands Campaign Diary Their respite interrupted by the sudden transformation of the party’s horses into a Corpseshoes , the heroes immediately engaged the undead-like steeds. This time, however, they didn’t get a drop of the sinister creatures and suffered under their hooves. Still, the pair of equine horrors were not enough to overcome the party. The incident did punctuate, however, that they were in very hostile territory and couldn’t drop their guard even for a moment. Why their horses turned against them, though, remained a mystery. The civilians they traveled with were forced to abandon their carts and travel on foot. The goblin brewer Niq, the high-elf soothsayer Ruven, and the wood-elf runesmith Arvantel vowed to help how they could, but none measured up as an adventurer. After a short debate between traveling to Nightveil T

Mysterious Corpses Random Table 1. This elf wears tattered rags that were once silken finery. The right side of the corpse’s torso is just as shredded; a bloody flower of sorts dotted with shades of their pulverized ribs. One leg is caught in the knotted branches of the tree the elf dangles upside down from. The other hindlimb is caught around eight feet further up where a lone crow pecks at the rotting meat. The corpse’s expression is one of serenity despite the grisly circumstances. The crows have already claimed one of its eyes and their sun-spun hair is tangled with forest debris. A collection of silver bracelets studded with gems cluster on one of their wrists. 2. While the human’s body lies in the ditch, it doesn’t appear that they died there. The grass on the nearby bank is glued down by long-dried viscera and bug-colonized guts. If one follows the blood trail back they can even find the murder weapon; a shattered wagon wheel casually resting against a rock. The cadaver is d

Session Eleven: Rotten to the Core An untamed frontier. Dark cults. Fickle fey gods. Ravenous fiends. Nothing black powder and sorcery won't fix... . Timberlands Campaign Diary After a night of uneasy sleep, the heroes made their way down the pass through the Pond Peaks. The day proved hotter than expected with thunderheads gathering and humidity sticking to their skin. It wasn’t long before the clouds opened up in driving rain. The wet sheets blocked not only their sight but filled their noises with a noisome, unidentifiable smell. The ranger Wild suspected fey manipulation and reached out with his senses, but detected over half-a-dozen dragons nearby instead. The downpour let up some ten minutes later but the champions found themselves at the base of the Pond Peaks with the weariness of hours in their muscles and the same distance traveled. Rather than turn back to investigate the phenomenon, the party felt it best to continue forward. Likewise, the presence of dragons