The small village of Bronbog, housed in the heavily wooded heart of the Dreamseep Marshlands, has recently come under a baneful curse… the young are born malformed, features twisted and demonic in nature. Residents complain of terrible nightmares becoming common place, and a handful of long-respected denizens have fallen to madness, and some suicide. Many have fled, the stubborn or foolish remaining, but the nature of this curse has peaked the interest of one man… Kaulder. Kaulder, you’ve seen such curses before drive whole communities to ruin, but what your experience as a Witch Hunter Kaulder, has taught you is that the usual purpose of such a curse is not just to spread pain and suffering… but to prepare t he land with enough misery and darkness for some more sinister purpose…to tr ansform the fane of a land into a site ripe for dark ritual. You’ve gathered gathered up a handful of proven warriors to join you on this investigation of Bronbog… Bronbog… (introductions) The sun set but an hour ago as your party pushed into the sludgy floor of the Dreamse Dreamseep ep Marsh, and only now can you see the distance glow of warmly lit windows. You approach Bronbog, coming upon the only mildewed hovel that shows any sign of life.
They are greeted at the door by a pale, young woman in simple clothes, her face streaked streaked with sweat and dirt.
“You… you best not be here. Death awaits those who come.”
“You wish to lift the curse? Such e vil scoffs in the face of mortal men, how can you hope to stop what horror haunts us?”
“If your words be true, foolish they may be, then your bravery is a welcome a welcome change around here. I shall take you to the ruins just outside of the village. I’ve seen things crawling there at night, whispering t o themselves and laughing through hisses and gurgles.”
She puts on a pair of thick, leather boots and leads you outside.
The party walks with the woman, her eyes fearful and distant as she shows them into the marsh. A low, cold fog has swallowed the bog now, leaving the surrounding trees but shadowed bars in a sodden prison. With each sloshing step, you hear the crickets intensify and the low moan of the wind pulse.
Perc 15+ - You see
the fog swirl and shift unnaturally, and your eyes focus on what looks like two ghostly forms
reaching out for you all!
Encounter 1 – Wraith x 2 Continuing forward, the swamp water now creeping past your knees as the cold cuts to your bone, you see a large shape begin to reveal itself through the fog… a gargantuan, ancient stone structure stands partially collapsed, looming over the clearing like a sighing, forgotten chapel. As you push on, you see a large marble table, an altar, standing resolute against the bog floor. A new female voice pierces the air, low and rough of texture.
“How eager they walk on, unknowing they come to the seat o f their destiny.”
“An offering of outsider blood is welcome. It cle ans the palette, prepares the tastes to come.”
“Shall we begin the next offering, dear sister?”
The young woman behind you smiles and calls out:
“Of course, dear sister. The m arsh grows hungry, and so do I.”
ENCOUNTER 2 – Swamp Hag x 2
