While this fey's bones continuously burn, it doesn't experience any pain. Its flesh is blackened with glowing cracks like those in a smoldering log. The toxic smoke drifts from its skin, hampering its foes. Glossy black eyes stare from behind a beaked nose and pale teeth gleam from a lipless mouth. Only the ember-formed silhouette of crest from the fey's back, but they are perfectly capable of carrying it aloft. While its self-immolating state is incapable of wearing clothes, the halberd it bears is enchanted to take draw in the unnatural heat and focus it within the weapon's white-hot edge. Coalwing Sentry Medium Fey, lawful evil Armor Class 14 Hit Points 102 (12d8 + 48) Speed 30ft Flight 30ft Str 16 Dex 18 Con 18 Int 8 Wis 16 Cha 16 Saving Throws Dex +7, Cha +6 Skills Insight +6, Perception +6 Damage Resistances...

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 ...

It was one of those rare times that Sickle Smile wished, well, that he could stop smiling. It wasn't the ravaged corpses strew about the courtyard that spoiled his mood, or the mishmash of bones and brier gnawing at spilled insides. The greasy smoke stinking of roasting, mortal flesh rising from the keep-side inn didn't sour the grinning herald's attitude, nor did the struggling cries of a trio of jugglers slowly being crushed and digested by the enchanted ivy on the rampart. Indeed, these were a few of his favorite things. Sickle Smile sighed heavily and sank to sit on the keep's front step. It was the fact he was stuck here because that arrogant waning noble that he'd worked so hard to release pulled rank. Of all the gall! Of course, he bowed and scrapped to Lord Leafripper and spun flowery bullshit about how it was just an honor to serve. The grinning herald grunted. His spindly fingers tapped on the direfly-in-amber top of his cane. With any luck the monstrous...

The bridge's railing caught Gregory as he collapsed. It failed, however, to catch his arm. The severed limb bounced one of the ancient, dwarven visage carved into a bridge pier before splashing into the rapidly-running river. He felt nauseous, both from shock and blood loss. The trader heard one of his caravan guard's scream, and be cut short. Gregory sucked in a breath and fought to maintain focus. Using the rail for support he pushed along for the road. A line of gore was left across the ancient stonework. This didn't make any sense! They'd stopped and talked to the knight protecting the Old Dwarf Bridge a handful of times this season. Ser Silvercrown had been amicable every time, asked after their families, and for news of the rest of the kingdom. Now, the knight was hewing the caravan apart without as much as a word. Gregory rolled off of the railing and hit the ground with his remaining shoulder. Pain blurred his already dimming vision. He could make out a pil...

Encounter Premise: Years ago a down-on-his-luck smith tricked an animus artisan of the waning court and stole the fey's iron gauntlet and magic hammer. Afterward, he imprisoned the creature inside his forge and enslaved it to do his drudge work. In time, the smith has gained a modicum of fame and fortune. However, as the waning court makes advances on the mortal plane the animus artisan enacts his plan for revenge. Fey magic sweeps through the city and animates many of the tools and weapons sold by the blacksmith but made by his fairy slave. The heroes must not only brave a slew of killer constructs and deal with the corrupt mayor who doesn't want to lose her village's best source of revenue. She and the blacksmith plot together to come out on top. A cadre of fey also plagues the area, seeking to free the animus artisan and punish the mortals for their hubris. Location: Inniscrone used to be a sleepy little hamlet until a twenty-eight months ago. Sure, a major trade...

"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...