The Faelan Curse

The Real Story: Liora’s Curse

The Setting

It began ten years ago, on the cusp of autumn, when the leaves had just begun to curl and redden. The Faelans were still newcomers to Ravenshollow, having taken up residence in an old homestead near the forest’s edge. The village was wary but accepting — the family quiet, private, but hardworking.

That year, the forest was restless. Strange sounds echoed in the night, and the hunters spoke in hushed tones of shadows moving just beyond torchlight. The Wild Hunt, though mostly myth to the villagers, was whispered of among the old-keepers and wood-folk — not yet feared, but never forgotten.

The Forbidden Glade

Liora, no more than six at the time, wandered too far during a game of hide-and-seek with her brother Aidan. She followed the wind deeper into the woods, chasing something she couldn’t quite see — perhaps the flash of a silver antler, perhaps the call of a distant, melodic howl.

She stumbled into a glade that should not exist. A hollow in the woods, ringed with massive black-stone monoliths etched in the runes of the old forest spirits — or what remained of them. At its center stood an ancient stag skull, mounted on a standing stone, its antlers draped in vine and bone. The place hummed with wild power — ancient, watchful, unkind.

What Liora saw there is unclear. She never remembered. Only that she approached the skull, and in that moment, something moved in the mist behind it. A vast shadow, not malevolent — but not entirely sane. Something of the Hunt.

The Interruption

But something else was already watching the glade.

That night, a thin ripple of the Gloom’s corruption passed through the forest, slithering beneath root and stone, touching even sacred places. The being Liora encountered — a lesser Hunter spirit of the Wild Hunt — was not immune. Its will twisted.

Instead of merely marking her, as the Wild Hunt might do to those worthy or wild enough to be chosen, the spirit bit into her soul, leaving her half-bound, half-cursed — a vessel of conflicting wills.

It didn’t mean to hurt her. But by the time she left the glade, it wasn’t itself anymore.

The Spirit of the Antlered Shade

“It was never meant to harm. But even old oaths can falter when the forest begins to rot.”

Original Nature

Before its corruption, the being was one of the lesser heralds of the Wild Hunt, sometimes called in whispered verses:

“The Antlered Shade, whose hooves stir the mist,
Whose howl means you are seen, but not yet taken.”

It was not a leader, but a seeker — a spirit tasked with scouting mortal lands, watching, and marking those worthy or wild enough to be hunted in the ancient rites of the Wild Hunt. It could pass unseen by most, its form a silhouette with a skull-faced head, long limbs, and broken antlers that shimmered faintly with pale light. It was never malevolent, but it was not kind either — bound to old rules, older than any temple or spellbook.

The Moment of Corruption

When Liora entered the glade ten years ago, the spirit had already begun to sour.

Unseen, a tendril of the Gloom had slipped into the glade — carried not by spell or rite, but by the slow rot of the land, a consequence of Isolde’s growing corruption and the dark entity’s whisper spreading under root and stone. The glade, once sacred, had become a place of tension — powerful, but bleeding.

In this place, the spirit saw Liora, and by instinct or prophecy, moved to mark her.

But in that moment, the corruption twisted the intent of the rite. Instead of marking her with the Hunt’s essence — a spiritual rite of passage — it bit, burrowed, bound. The spirit’s fang carried both the ancient power of the Hunt and the infection of the Gloom. The bite created a living tether — binding Liora to the spirit, and the spirit to her.

What the Spirit Has Become

Now, it exists in a liminal state — still tied to the Hunt’s domain, but frayed at the edges. It is no longer called the Antlered Shade by the spirits. Some of the Hollow Hunters see it as lost. Others, more wary, sense that it is not fully fallen.

Mortals might glimpse it during Liora’s transformations — a massive shadow with broken antlers, trailing mist and red-black ash, its eyes glowing gold one moment and green the next. When she changes, she dreams of it watching her, its presence both protective and predatory.

A Rare Phenomenon: Corruption Held at Bay

The bite, intended as a bond, became a bridge. Through it, the Hunt spirit drinks her vitality — not in the way a vampire does, but by proximity. When she kills or when she suffers, the spirit feeds — but not maliciously. It sustains its identity through her, like a fire kept burning by the smallest ember.

Because of Liora, the corruption has not fully consumed it.
But because of the bond, she is never free of it, and never fully herself.

If this bond were severed, the spirit would either die or be claimed entirely by the Gloom, becoming a true servant of the dark entity. As it stands, the two hold each other in uneasy stasis — a pact neither intended nor understands.

The Decade of Descent: Liora’s Curse Over Ten Years

"It began with dreams... and now the dreams have begun to bleed."

Year 1–2: The Dreams and Whispers (Ages 6–8)

The glade was forgotten, and so was the memory. For the first year or two, the bite was not physical, but spiritual. Liora bore no mark. No fever, no wound. But the change had begun.

She woke at night, confused and trembling, often sleepwalking.
Her parents found her outside more than once, barefoot in the cold, whispering to shadows.
At times she claimed to hear the sound of antlers on bark, or see a “shadow wolf with broken horns” walking beside her in the dark — but she thought them dreams.
Her dog refused to sleep in the same room with her.
Animals in the yard, especially the goats, grew nervous around her presence.

These years were easy to dismiss as a child's imagination.

Year 3–4: The First Moonblood (Ages 9–10)

The first transformation came on a harvest moon. The family speaks little of what happened — only that Liora was found the next morning in the cellar, clothes shredded, skin raw and steaming with sweat, and her mouth stained red.

A chicken coop had been torn open, and a half-dozen animals were slaughtered.
Eoin and Aidan buried them silently, saying only that a wolf must have gotten in.

From that year forward, the full moons became dangerous. Liora’s memory became patchy. Her energy would build days before, and she would become fretful, hot to the touch, and prone to sudden rage. Aidan bore a slash across his arm trying to restrain her one night.

Her form, when it came, was initially lupine — a gaunt, long-limbed wolfish creature, black-eyed and lean.

The family began to chain her during full moons. Eoin reinforced the cellar with iron rings. Rhea wept but said nothing. Aidan bore the task of feeding her when chained, always careful not to look in her eyes for too long.

Year 5–7: The Primal Awakening (Ages 11–13)

As the years passed, the transformations grew more unpredictable.

Sometimes she would wake with bloodied hands on nights with no moon at all.
Her senses sharpened — she could smell lies, hear thoughts before they were spoken, and once told her father where a neighbor's cow had gone missing days before it was found.
The form grew more primal — less wolf, more something older. Longer limbs, leaner waist, and jagged claws.
The pupils in her human form began to sometimes narrow to slits when angered or afraid.

She began to feel the spirit, not just as a presence but as a voice, a sense of another self pushing behind her eyes. It whispered of the hunt, of the woods, of a song in the trees older than the language of men.

But something was wrong. It spoke in two voices — one wild and furious and free, the other distorted, like a wolf choking on smoke. Sometimes it laughed.

Year 8–10: The Demon's Hunger (Ages 14–16, Present Day)

This is the stage that no longer can be hidden. Liora’s form is monstrous now — the spirit is holding on, but it is twisted. Her transformations are no longer purely about the Hunt. Bloodlust burns beneath the surface, and she sometimes craves violence not to kill or feed, but to unleash.

Her body now grows taller, her spine arches grotesquely, her teeth are too many and too sharp. The fur is coarse and patchy. Her face no longer resembles a wolf — it is something else entirely. A thing of fang and snarl and rage.
Her claws leave burnt edges on trees and walls. A sign of the corruption creeping in.
Her voice, when transformed, can mimic human speech, but distorted — as if she is speaking through water or stone.

Transformations now occur not only at full moons, but:

On Blood Moons (rare, ominous events).
On nights where strange constellations align.
Or when she is near strong corruption, or extreme emotional stress.

The spirit is not fully corrupted, but it is constantly at war. It sometimes protects her, pushing her away from places of rot or danger. Other times, it goads her. Liora doesn’t know which voice is truly her own anymore.

How the Curse Is Perceived

The Faelan family has done everything to hide it. Eoin and Rhea have made quiet pacts with those they trust. Aidan keeps watch during dangerous nights.
The villagers whisper. They hear howls sometimes, and speak of wild beasts. A few farmers near the forest report cattle torn apart, but never eaten — just scattered.
Some of the older villagers sense it. Cedric has seen the signs and does not ask questions, but he keeps one of her clawed bones hidden in a pouch — as if hoping to one day find answers.

Those who have seen it and lived speak of a towering figure that moves like a memory of a beast, fur like scorched brambles, with eyes that burn as if lit from within — not with rage, but recognition. The maw splits far too wide, bristling with broken teeth. There’s something wet and hungry in the way it breathes. Its claws drag along the bark as it walks, and every footfall is a whisper of old leaves and fresh blood.

But the most disturbing feature isn’t its strength — it’s the awareness. It pauses. Watches. Listens. There is a mind inside, tortured, intelligent, restrained by only the thinnest cord of control.

And the villagers have begun to name it, not knowing the truth:

“The Beast of the Glade.”
“The Bone-Walker.”

Reflections from Within

Liora remembers less and less.

Some nights she wakes with her hands raw and her mouth filled with the taste of pine and ash. Other times, she remembers running with a herd of horned shadows, the echo of a horn calling her to the hunt, her heart alight with the joy of killing — and then, suddenly, shame.

She once tried to describe it to Aidan:

“It’s like I’m watching from behind my ribs. Like I’m tied to myself. I feel what it feels, want what it wants — and I hate that I do.”

But something in her knows the corruption hasn’t won. The spirit of the hunt, buried beneath the gore and darkness, still fights. That form, that monstrous shape, is a fusion of her own primal nature, the spirit’s deep rage, and the taint that poisoned them both.

How the Faelans Contain the Curse

Confinement

The Binding Hollow: Deep beneath the Faelan homestead, hidden behind a false wall in the root cellar, lies a reinforced earthen chamber dug by Eoin himself. The walls are stone and packed clay, strengthened with iron nails and woven hawthorn, an old charm meant to repel spirits. The door is wood banded with steel and locked with three latches, one of which only Rhea has the key to.
The Tethering Chain: Liora wears a chain around one ankle during dangerous moon phases. The chain is cold iron, laced with herbs wrapped in waxed cloth—a recipe Mira Ashford once shared with Eoin in passing, not knowing its full use. It doesn’t stop her from changing, but it slows her down. Sometimes.
The Wolfsong Draught: A sedative brew Mira once gave Eoin to help him sleep after a hunting accident has since been adapted into a stronger concoction, laced with nightshade, moongrass, and bitter-root. Liora drinks it voluntarily, but it's unreliable. If the transformation begins before the potion is strong in her system, it merely enrages the beast.

Concealment from the Village

Isolation: The Faelans live on the forest’s edge, and rarely come into the village proper unless necessary. Eoin makes excuses: illness, poor crops, Rhea’s frailty. Aidan handles all social contact, but is tight-lipped.
Night Sounds: On transformation nights, the family lights no candles and plays a loud wooden flute to mask the snarls and crashes. They say it’s a tradition from Eoin’s ancestors. No one questions it—yet.
Shifting Blame: When livestock go missing or strange tracks appear, Eoin and Aidan are quick to volunteer to help hunt the beast. They often "find nothing," but sometimes leave planted evidence pointing to wolves, Gloomhounds, or even the Thornwild Bear. It keeps suspicions vague.

The Cost on Each Member

Eoin Faelan (Father)

Burdened with purpose and guilt. He feels it was his failure to protect Liora that caused the curse.
He does the hard labor, prepares the chamber, sharpens the iron spikes, and forges the chains. He doesn’t cry anymore.
Trusts Old Man Cedric but hasn't confessed everything. He’s terrified of what Cedric might say.

Rhea Faelan (Mother)

Once gentle, now brittle. She spends much of her time indoors, lighting protection candles and whispering charms from her youth, many half-remembered.
Blames herself, but also blames the witches — especially Isolde, though no one else in the family dares mention her name.
Cannot look Liora in the eye during the week of the full moon.

Aidan Faelan (Brother)

The protector. He is the one who sits outside the door, spear in hand, weeping silently when Liora screams.
Has bruises from trying to calm her transformations in the past. He carries those scars with a grim sort of pride.
Is fiercely loyal and torn between wanting to find a cure and just making her suffering bearable.

Liora Faelan

She knows. Every moment. The family may call her "sick" or "cursed," but Liora feels the darkness inside her and knows she is not just a victim.
When the change comes, she locks herself in the room and begs them not to open it no matter what they hear.
She journals. Pages of wild writing, drawings of antlers and eyes, figures with her face torn in half. She dreams of running not to kill, but to escape.

In Daily Life

Herbs are always steeping. Even outside transformation days, Eoin keeps calming and numbing potions on hand.
No guests are allowed at night, ever. If villagers stop by, they are invited for quick tea and urged away before sunset.
The Faelans never talk about the forest. Not the Wild Hunt, not the Gloom, not the wolves. It's an unspoken taboo.

Rumors and Sightings

Phase 0: Ominous Whispers (Years -2 to 0)

1. The Shadow in the Fog

Several villagers—hunters, trappers, and night-soil collectors—claim to have seen a large shadowed figure sprinting through the forest mists. Unlike a bear or stag, it ran upright, unnaturally fast, and disappeared without a trace. Always spotted during full moons or strange weather—blood-red sunsets, electrical storms, or the rare moons with halo rings.

"Swear on the gods, it weren’t no man. It ran like a man, but the eyes were wrong. Yellow. Wild. And it howled, but not like a wolf. Like grief." — Jonas Fenrow, whispering over his ale.

2. The Gore on the Carcass

Rowan Wren once found a freshly killed deer, torn to pieces in a way wolves don’t. Most disturbing was the way the ribs had been cracked open, as though a creature had crouched over the body and dug its face into the chest cavity. No animal had fed there—just flesh torn, blood spilled, and then gone. Only a trail of upright, half-man-like footprints led away into the forest.

“The way the ribs were bent… it was feeding like a person might. Not tearing—digging. There were finger marks.” — Old Tom, swineherd.

3. The Moonlit Watcher

Two children claim they saw a tall, hunched beast watching them from the treeline during a game of night-tag. They were near the Fenton farm, not far from where Liora sometimes walks the woods to calm her thoughts. The creature did nothing but stare. One child said it had “a woman’s hair”, the other that it licked its claws.

“It just watched us, like we were something it used to know.”

4. Blood on the Wind

On three separate nights over the past two years, villagers waking near dawn have reported smelling iron in the air, like fresh blood. No explanation has ever been found. Chickens and goats have gone missing in small numbers, but without signs of struggle.

“Something’s hungry, and it’s learned not to leave tracks.” — Eadric Barrow.

5. The Singing Stops

Twice in the last year, birds along the Greenwood Reach and Thornwild border fell completely silent for hours, only to explode into terrified screeching all at once. One older shepherd said it’s an omen of a cursed hunt—something unnatural walking among natural things.

"Happened once when I was a boy. Next day, we found a hunter gutted in a tree, still gripping his bow."

6. A Figure in the Trees

Milo Carroway swore to his mother that he saw a woman running barefoot through the woods, blood down her legs, before leaping farther than any person could and disappearing into the dark. Eliza slapped him for “making up nightmares,” but he hasn’t gone near the tree line since.

Aidan Faelan’s Secret Diary – Summary

Hidden beneath a loose floorboard in the Faelan homestead lies a small, leather-bound notebook. Its pages are stained from years of damp and handling, its entries written in tight, sharp shorthand—half-notes, half-code, known only to Aidan. It is not a poetic journal, but it is a testimony of weight carried alone.

Aidan began writing shortly after Liora’s bite. What started as a few angry scrawlings to process fear and guilt evolved into a hidden confessional. In it, he tracks her fevers, her changes, the moon cycles, sightings, scents, dreams. He sketches partial maps of where she might run. Keeps logs of herb mixes Mira gave them. But above all, the diary reveals the slow, wrenching truth: Aidan loves his sister deeply—and is terrified of her.

His frustration is palpable. The entries grow more urgent over time. There are weeks where he doesn't write—clearly too exhausted or too overwhelmed. Then it returns, sometimes in shaking letters: "I saw her mouth stained again." Or simply: "The charm failed."

He does not write for comfort. He writes to hold the truth down, keep it from flying apart. As the years pass, his lines shift from fact to fear. From control to helplessness.

There are passages where he almost confesses to wishing she would run and never come back. Others where he pleads with no one: "Don’t take her from us." His shame is here too: missed signs, failed containment, moments when he lied for her to the villagers, even as he saw claw marks on the stable wall.

When things start going wrong in the village—slaughtered livestock, sightings of beasts—he begins to track everything obsessively, building a grim pattern. But no solution comes. Only the sense that something terrible is drawing near.

He still writes in the present, but the last pages are worn thin, the pencil gouging too hard. The entries read more like battle reports than reflections. One recent line is written three times, underlined until the paper nearly tore:
"It’s getting worse."

Timeline (Years since the Bite)

Year 0 (10 years ago):

Liora goes missing in the forest and returns feverish. Aidan starts the diary.

Year 1–2:

First signs: fevers, unease during moonlit nights, strange sounds from her room.
First "incident" recorded: barn animal mauled. He lies to his parents about it.

Year 3–4:

Begins tracking lunar cycles, drawing crude calendars.
First mention of tying her down. Charm fails. Scratches on his arms.

Year 5–6:

Sketches of claws, eye changes, altered voices. Guilt deepens.
Writes about pushing Mira away when she asked questions.

Year 7–8:

Waking to find her gone. Whole pages of worry: “What if she doesn’t come back?”
Sketches of trampled grass and blood. “Wolf, but not.”
Entries grow more emotional. “We’re losing her.”

Year 9–10:

Panic evident. References to village events.
Noted full moons that didn’t match expected transformations.
Final entries speak of dread, possible exposure, thoughts of fleeing or confiding in someone—perhaps Mira.

Select Excerpts from the Diary

"She came back this morning. Her dress was in tatters. No blood this time. I think she remembers what she is."

"Tried silver. No change. Just burned her skin. She wept after. I told her it was for her own good."

"Three sheep, one cow. Father says it’s a wolf. I said the same. But I know better."

"Full moon again. She’s pacing. Her nails are too long. I saw her reflection twitch wrong."

"I lied to Mira. Said we didn’t need any new herbs. I can’t let her see the wounds again."

"Tamsin saw something. I saw the way she looked at Liora. That look of trying not to be afraid."

"She begged me to tie her tighter this time. I couldn’t look her in the eye."

"The forest listens when she changes. Even the wind pulls back. What kind of spirit did this to her?"

"Tonight, she whispered in a tongue I didn’t know. And something in me wanted to answer."

"She kissed mother’s forehead this morning. As if it might be the last time."

"If she hurts someone, it’s my fault too."

Mira Ashford’s Diary of Shadows (Private Notes and Observations)

The diary is a thick, hand-bound book of dark green leather, smelling faintly of herbs and ash. The pages are neatly written in her fine, steady hand—at least at the beginning. Over time, her entries grow tighter, more erratic, with more crossed-out lines and margin scribbles, as if she's second-guessing herself or fears what she’s writing might become real.

It begins like a herbwoman’s log: cataloging the growth of nightshade, the flowering of lungwort, weather patterns, and observations about villagers’ ailments. But scattered between those entries, almost like unspoken thoughts creeping in, are mentions of strange claw marks, odd wounds, dreams, and the Faelan girl—Liora.

Notable Timeline Overview (Summarized Content)

Year 1 (~9 years ago):

Liora is quiet. Shy girl. Watches the trees more than she plays with other children.
Noticed a strange fever after she wandered off during midsummer. Rhea said it passed. It didn’t feel normal. But I said nothing. Not my place.

Year 2–3:

Animals near the Faelan homestead found torn. “A wild dog,” Eoin said. But the cuts… they were too deep. Something else. I pressed, but he turned cold.
He’s a good man. But hiding something.

Year 4:

Visited their home to deliver remedies. Liora wouldn’t come down. Heard thudding upstairs—heavy, like a full-grown man pacing.
Later that night, something howled by the fen. It was wrong. Felt like it shook something in my chest. Not wolf. Not natural.
Put a charm on their doorstep. It was gone the next morning. Burned. Ash left in the shape of a circle.

Year 5:

Saw Rhea in the market. Hollow-eyed. Wouldn’t meet my gaze. Said “She’s getting worse.”
The girl’s not just sick. There’s magic at work. Old magic. And blood.

Year 6:

Dreamt of a great white beast, hunched like a wolf but with hands. Red around the mouth. Liora stood in its shadow. It looked at me and smiled with her eyes.
Found a twisted tree near the glade with deer bones around it. The marrow was sucked out clean.
Beginning to believe the curse is bound to the forest—and something in the Hunt.

Year 7–8:

Tracks near Mira’s garden again. Heavy, clawed. Found flecks of auburn hair on the gatepost.
Tried to speak to Eoin. He shut the door in my face. Rhea left an apology and tea two days later. Cowardice cloaked in kindness.

Year 9 (present):

The signs are louder. Screams in the woods. Dead livestock. Villagers whisper of shadows. They blame witches. But this is older. Wilder.
Tamsin saw something. I haven’t pressed her. But she’s been quieter. Touches her neck a lot like it still hurts.
I may be the only one who could help Liora. Or stop her. But I will not be the one to light the torch.

Key Example Lines from the Diary (searchable or discoverable)

“The claw marks were fresh—five fingers. Not a wolf. Not even a bear. Too deliberate.”

“Something is living inside Liora. Not a spirit, not fully. Not just the curse. Something older. Watching from within her eyes.”

“Tonight the white wolf stood above a fallen bear. It did not kill to eat. It killed because it wanted to.”

“The charm was rejected. Burned where it lay. She cannot be protected—not until whatever owns her is named.”

“The Faelans are breaking. The mother cannot sleep. The father hides behind his silence. The brother carries guilt like a shield.”

“They think it is just madness. But no madness bleeds in patterns and howls at the wrong moon.”

“If I die, someone must burn the thorns. And salt the roots.”

“Tearer in the Pines”

Saw her crouched in the moonlight pale,
Hair like flame and breath like hail.
Two legs bent like beast unmade,
Eyes of hunger, soul betrayed.

She fell on a bear with teeth and claw,
No blade, no blade could match what I saw.
Tore through pelt, split bone with hand,
Left it twitching in the sand.

She walks like us but moves like more,
Nails like knives, her skin all gore.
If you see her, boy, don’t make a sound—
Pray to gods and keep low to ground.

She's not of pack, she's not of kin,
Not cursed by moon, but rot within.
And when she howls, the trees lean back,
And all the stars go dim and black.

The Moon and the Beast: A Broken Cycle

Liora’s curse does not follow the normal cycle of the full moon alone. It began that way, but over time it has grown… strange. Warped by the underlying fae magic and the creeping corruption. Now, the transformation occurs during nights when the world feels wrong, not just when the sky is full.

Known Transformation Triggers:

True Full Moons:

These remain the most consistent and dangerous times. The Faelans know to prepare for these.

The Reflected Moon (Fae-Touched Nights):

On some nights, particularly misty or humid ones, the reflection of the moon on still water appears full, even when the moon in the sky is not. These nights are rare—but they are potent. The Faelans believe that the Great Hunt rides on these mirrored moons, and the beast in Liora responds to its realm’s timing, not the mortal one.

“She woke screaming the night the pond shone like a silver plate, though the sky was dark. We thought it safe. It wasn’t.” — Aidan Faelan’s diary

Blood Moons and Eclipses:

The corrupted spirit that bit her still drinks from the well of the Great Hunt, but its form has become infected by the Gloom. Blood moons and celestial anomalies awaken this twisted reflection. On such nights, Liora’s transformation is faster, more violent, and the beast more mindless.

The Wild Call:

Occasionally, howls or horns echo from the forest at dusk. These sounds are not heard by all—only by those attuned to the Hunt or touched by fae-blood. If Liora hears them, something within her calls back. Even if locked away, she begins to change, clawing at stone and steel until she breaks loose or collapses in exhaustion.

Times She Has Escaped

Despite the family’s efforts, there have been a few terrifying breaches. These incidents are kept secret by the Faelans—but Mira and perhaps even Old Man Cedric have suspicions.

The Iron Lock Gave Way (Six Winters Ago)

One Blood Moon, the heavy latch on the root cellar—wrought from old iron—snapped like dry twine. They found the cellar door torn from its hinges and a trail of blood and feathers leading into the trees. Three chickens and a sheep were later found gutted, and a travelling tinker camped near the edge of the forest vanished. His cart was found overturned days later, split open and gnawed. The Faelans passed it off as a bear attack. But the villagers began keeping their children inside at night.

The Mirror Moon (Two Years Ago)

During a summer drought, the family had grown lax—the moon had waned, and no danger was expected. But a night mist rose from the river, and in the stillness, the shallow pond behind the homestead reflected a perfect, glowing full moon. Liora transformed in her sleep and vanished into the dark before they could stop her. She was found by Aidan two days later, naked and weeping in the crook of a cedar tree, her hands stained with dried blood and sap. They never found what she had killed

Current Measures to Contain Her

The Root Cellar is reinforced with cold-forged iron, lined with old runes gifted by Mira Ashford (who suspects far more than she says). Aidan and Eoin take turns watching her during the moons. Rhea prepares calming teas and salves to ease Liora’s body before a full transformation—though they rarely help anymore. Still, with each passing year, the transformations grow stronger, more unpredictable… and something inside the beast is learning. “She remembers. Not just names. Faces. Places. The beast knows what we fear, and it waits.” — Eoin Faelan, muttered to Mira after a sleepless night

The call of the Wild

Phase 1: Shadows in the Trees – The Early Signs of the Faelan Curse

The Setting:

Ten years have passed since Liora Faelan was bitten by the corrupted spirit. Her transformations have slowly escalated, becoming increasingly bestial and bloodthirsty. But it’s only in the last two years that her curse has truly begun to manifest in ways that affect the wider village — first quietly, then more visibly.

These are the early signs, the growing unease that something stalks the woods by night. Villagers don't yet know it’s Liora. But suspicion grows.

Event 1: Strange Howls in the Night

Several villagers — mostly those living on the outskirts, like the Thornfields and Harkers — begin to report howling deep in the woods. Not wolves, they insist. Not quite.

“Like a wolf tryin’ to sound like a man,” says Old Nan grimly. “Or the other way ‘round,” mutters Jonas Harker.

Player Angle: If the players are visiting Huntsmen’s Row or the Thornfield farmstead, they may be invited to sit by a fire and hear one of these tales. Some hunters say they saw something tall and hunched between the trees. The dogs refuse to track it.

Event 2: The Crows Left the Trees

At dawn after a blood moon, villagers wake to find the trees along the Wren Trail empty of birds. A dead bear carcass is found half-eaten, its bones crushed. The wounds look unnatural — torn with claws, but also something with hands. No sign of normal predators. No blood trail.

Mira Ashford notes in her personal records that no wolves could have done it. Something fed with intention. Something that feasted.

Rumors: A new song is whispered by firelight, started by the younger hunters: “A shadow tore the bear in two / with hand and fang and howl so true…”

Event 3: Scratches on the Faelan Door

Early one morning, Aidan finds the doorframe clawed and splintered. He says nothing. Eoin repairs it in silence. Rhea scrubs blood from Liora’s hands before dawn. The family says it was a bad dream, that Liora fell.

Tamsin Holloway, passing by to bring a parcel from Mira, sees a glimpse of claw marks on Liora’s arm — too deep, and not from a fall.

Event 4: Diary of a Curious Girl

Rowan Fenton finds a torn page from a notebook snagged on a tree near the edge of the forest. It’s Liora’s handwriting — cryptic, unfinished thoughts:

“Don’t remember the deer. It was already dead. Wasn’t it?” “Sometimes I wake up with the taste in my mouth. That’s when I go quiet.” “Father says I’m strong. But I think I’m just not broken yet.”

Hook: This page could be passed to a player or used as part of Mira’s quiet investigation, raising questions for anyone who reads it.

Event 5: The Hollow-eyed Doe

During the spring fair, a deer stumbles into the village outskirts at midday — trembling, ribs showing, eyes wide and glassy. It collapses in the square and dies within moments. No wounds. But it’s been running for hours.

Nanette Redleaf, watching from afar, says softly:

“The hunter’s moon walks on two legs now. Even prey knows it.” The village dogs whimper that night and refuse to go outside.

Major Event 1: The Broken Herb Stand

Setting:

In the quiet gray morning after the storm, Mira Ashford finds her herb stand outside her cottage in disarray. The door to the storage alcove has been torn halfway from its hinges. Dried bundles of valerian, wolfsbane, and nightshade lay trampled in the mud. There are claw marks — deep, uneven — across the planks and stone. Not animal. Not tool. Something... between.

She doesn’t panic, but she does not hide her unease.

Rumors Begin:

“Foxes don’t scratch like that,” mutters one old forager.

Mira visits the Faelan homestead under the guise of delivering tea, but her eyes linger too long on Liora’s forearms — bandaged, fresh cuts beneath.

Mira’s Response: She replaces the door with a reinforced one of alderwood and hangs three dried rowan charms above it. To her closest friends she simply says: “Something came too close. And next time, I won’t have herbs to offer.” She mentions it quietly to Old Man Cedric, who makes a note of it but says only: “Not every beast is best hunted. Some you wait for.”

Player Interaction: If players are staying near Mira’s or shopping at her stand, she may ask them to “keep an ear open” or investigate the claw marks. If a character has tracking or wilderness skill, they may be able to tell the direction of approach — from the deep forest — and that the creature stopped, circled the cottage, and then left.

Tamsin Holloway: A few days later, Tamsin visits Mira and notices Liora’s hidden scratches. She’s not sure what to make of it. She later writes it in her journal: “Liora’s arms were wrapped in linen, but she flinched when I asked about the storm. Her eyes looked through me. Like she was seeing something far behind me in the trees.”

Major Event 2: The Illness Spreads

Setting:

It begins as it always does — with quiet apologies from the Faelans. “Liora’s unwell,” Rhea tells Mira during her monthly visit. “Nothing serious. Just weak. She sleeps long, eats little.” But the timing is wrong. Every time the full moon nears, Liora is “ill.” Her room is locked. Aidan is often seen sharpening traps or carving stakes, tension in his shoulders. Eoin Faelan has grown more haggard with each passing season.

Villager Gossip:

Old Hettie Grange swears she remembers “family fevers” just like this in her girlhood. She says no good ever came from secretive blood. “That’s witch-spun rot if I ever saw it,” she mutters behind cupped hands at the Hollow Hearth.

Father Lucian Reyne begins to speak more darkly during his sermons. Without naming names, he warns of families who “harbor ancient sins” and how “even the most loving home can become a cradle of ruin.”

Ronan Thatcher notices his dogs barking more fiercely when passing near the Faelan home at night. He begins to walk armed, though he says it’s “for the beasts in the forest.”

Player Interaction: Mira might quietly ask the players if they’ve seen or heard anything unusual, especially if they’ve been near the Faelan home or the edge of the Greenwood Reach. If they visit the Faelans on some pretense, they might be offered tea and see Liora — wan, pale, clearly exhausted — for only a moment before being ushered away.

Hidden Detail: If the players check the forest path near the Faelan home on one of these nights, they may find faint traces: heavy, two-legged prints not quite human, but definitely upright.

Foreshadowing: This event is not explosive — but the pattern begins. The sickness matches the moon’s cycle. The family grows more withdrawn. The whispers grow louder.

Phase 2

Event 3: The Moon’s Call

Timing: A moonless or veiled night where the clouds are thick, but the light still glows strangely, as though cast from behind a veil. The stars seem faint, as if swallowed by something else entirely. A night where some villagers swear they saw a second moon glinting in water.

Description:

That night, the village is roused by the unmistakable howls—closer, hungrier than ever. They seem to echo from inside the valley, perhaps from the forest's edge, perhaps even near the upper ridge past the Thornfields’ herding grounds. In the morning, several animals are found dead—torn apart, not eaten. A goat near the edge of the Fenrows’ barn, and two sheep from the Thornfield pen. Worse still, a hunter’s dog is found mauled beyond recognition in the greenwood edge, its body slashed by claws far too large.

Rumors & Reactions:

Old Nan mutters about a moon “that’s full only in reflection,” and warns Anwen Thornfield to keep Tomlin close. Osric Thornfield openly arms himself during nightly patrols and says he saw "a shadow that ran like a man and snarled like death." Tamsin Holloway, shaken and sleepless, confesses to her cousin Rowan Fenton that she saw Liora at the riverbank the night before—barefoot, trembling, and speaking to herself before vanishing into the trees.

Player Hooks:

Villagers ask the players to help patrol the livestock. Tracks can be found—massive paws with a second set of prints overlapping, perhaps suggesting the creature walked on two legs at times. A charm left by Mira to protect a stable has been torn down, seemingly by something that understood what it was.

Event 4: The Witch’s Warning

Location: Outside the Faelan homestead, a quiet, tense conversation held under storm-heavy skies.

Description:

Mira Ashford, heart heavy with suspicion and fear, arrives at the Faelan home. She brings with her a charm—not just protection, but a binding sigil drawn from old lore, meant to calm wild spirits. It smells of sage, bloodroot, and rivermint. She presents it to Rhea Faelan, gently but firmly. Eoin is there, tight-jawed, clearly ashamed but defensive. The encounter is civil—but brittle. Mira says softly: "I’ve seen this before. Not the curse, not the child... but the edge before the fall. It is growing stronger. Soon it won’t care if you chain her or hide her. It will break her... or break through her." Rhea clutches the charm tightly. Eoin looks away.

Rumors & Echoes:

Villagers see Mira’s visit. Old Hettie says: “The Faelans have called a witch to their door now. What does that tell you?” Father Lucian begins to stir his faithful: “Witches walk among us and feed beasts in the dark.” Mira confides only to the players (if trusted): “She’s not wholly lost. Not yet. But the forest knows her now, and the blood calls louder with each moon.”

Player Hooks:

Players can help Mira reinforce the bindings or assist in her research. They may notice Liora's fear when they visit—a fear not of others, but of herself.

Phase 2 Climax: Death in the Village

Timing: Less than a week after Mira’s visit.

Description:

A young shepherd from the Fenrow farm—Elric, age 13, a boy known for following fireflies and playing reed flute in the hills—goes missing one evening. His body is found the next morning near the edge of the Greenwood Reach, torn apart and half-buried in leaves. There are signs of a struggle—but not with a beast alone. Some say it looked like he tried to speak to something before it killed him. His flute is found broken, stuffed with coarse hair and bark. The village is thrown into panic. The children are kept indoors. Lanterns are left burning at doorways. The Faelans aren’t named, but they feel every stare like a blade.

Lucian’s Sermon

Location: Temple of Ravenshollow

Setting: Candles burn low. A storm gathers. Father Lucian wears his dark sermon cloak, and the air inside the temple is thick and tense. Lucian bellows: "A child has died! A child—slain not by beast, but by sin! This land is sick. The witches walk in shadow. The cursed mingle among us. And some here protect them." He speaks of cleansing. Of old rites. Of the need for judgment. Some villagers cheer, others look afraid. The air outside the temple is colder than it should be. The bell tolls.

Player Involvement:

Players may be pressured to choose a side publicly. Cedric urges calm and invites the players for a private talk afterward. Elara Finch grows more vocal, backing Lucian’s warnings with her own stories of “watching the dark claim her loved ones.” Tamsin, guilt-ridden and terrified, might pull a player aside and say: “I think I saw her that night... near Elric. I don’t know if she knew what she was doing.”

Phase 3: The Shattering of the Secret

The Build-Up Tension coils tighter in Ravenshollow with each passing night. The storm of suspicion stirred by Elric's death has not abated. Lucian Reyne speaks more openly of judgment and cleansing. Elara Finch, emboldened, gathers a rough band of villagers—practical folk, farmers, tradesmen, even a few young hotheads—claiming that waiting any longer will only mean more deaths. In hushed tones, Old Man Cedric and Mira Ashford urge caution. But Mira’s voice is small, and Cedric’s is drowned beneath the weight of grief and fear. Even those who believe the Faelans innocent start to doubt. What if they’re wrong?

The March to the Homestead

One evening, just after sunset, as a blood-colored halo begins to rim the rising moon, Lucian leads a band of nearly a dozen armed villagers up the winding trail toward the Faelan home. Elara walks beside him, torch in hand. Lucian: "We do not come to punish—we come to uncover what hides in the dark!" Elara: "And if it bares fangs, we drive in the stake." They call out from the treeline. Torches hiss in the damp wind. Aidan Faelan stands at the door, crossbow in hand, his face pale but resolute. Aidan: "You’ll not enter this house by threat. You don’t know what you’re doing—what’s at risk." Inside, Rhea Faelan is trembling, her voice cracked from pleading with Liora, who lies locked in the back room, already beginning to change. Eoin Faelan is not there—off searching for a rumored fey ward he believes might suppress the curse.

The Transformation

The moon finishes rising—and it is red, larger than it should be, its light staining the mist across the valley. Even those without the Sight feel the air go wrong. From within the Faelan home comes a terrible sound—a scream, then the groan of warping wood, the cracking of bones, a low, snarling growl that builds into a roar. The front door explodes outward—splintered by claw and force. The beast bursts through the door, all sinew, fang, and primal fury, her eyes flickering with sorrow and rage. As Aidan Faelan stands in front of the villagers, arms outstretched to stop them from advancing he barely have time to turn around as the beast rushes with terifying speed. The blood in the air, the fear radiating from the mob, the anger, and the curse's grip—it overwhelms her. She lunges forward—not at the villagers, but toward Aidan—perhaps to flee past him, perhaps to stop him from drawing his weapon. Claws slash across his chest, and he crumples. Gasps erupt. Elara screams for the others to attack. Rhea collapses, wailing. She slashes through a nearby farmer, tearing him down in reflexive fear, then lunges past the crowd, tearing into the trees. For a moment, the villagers are too stunned to react. Then panic erupts. Lucian demands the beast be hunted. Elara spits a curse and tends to the wounded. Some villagers run, others want blood. Aidan falls to the ground, horrible gashes down his chest, blood everywhere and with shock and pain in his eyes.

Aidan’s Fate and Role in the Arc

He survives—but only barely. He’s left unconscious, bleeding heavily. The players must help stabilize him, perhaps with Mira’s aid. His wounds are not normal—they fester with spirit-tainted blood, and only specific treatment (likely requiring rare herbs or ritual aid) can keep him from succumbing to it or transforming himself. If he dies, Liora’s last tie to her human self is severed, and her descent accelerates. She becomes harder to reason with and more dangerous.

Aftermath in the Village

The next morning, Ravenshollow is divided. Some demand the Faelans be cast out—or worse. Others claim they were trying to contain something they didn’t cause. Rumors fly: That Rhea consorted with a dark spirit. That Mira helped bind the beast. That Lucian stoked violence to claim moral authority. Old Man Cedric tries to hold meetings in the Hollow Hearth Inn to calm tensions. Mira refuses to leave her home.

Father Lucian prepares a sermon titled “The Wolf at the Door.”

Scene: The Temple of the Old Gods – Sermon: “The Wolf at the Door”

It is dusk when the villagers gather. The Temple of the Old Gods, an ancient stone hall with timber beams stained by centuries of smoke and incense, is lit by braziers and guttering tallow candles. The carved faces of the old spirits—weathered by time—watch in solemn silence from alcoves above, and the room carries the faint scents of iron, ash, and withered herbs.

The benches creak under the weight of bodies—farmers and hunters, elders and children, nervous mothers holding their kin close. The air is tense, too quiet. It has been a grim few days: something stalks the woods, the Faelan boy was mauled nearly to death, and the blood moon refuses to leave the sky.

At the altar stands Father Lucian Reyne, draped in shadow-dark vestments, his eyes glinting with conviction and something harder—fear sharpened into fury. Beside him, Brother Lyle fidgets, pale and deeply uneasy, whispering brief prayers under his breath as the older priest steps forward.

Father Lucian’s Sermon – "The Wolf at the Door"

“There are times when the darkness knocks... And times when it does not knock at all— But simply tears the door from its hinges, And drags the children screaming into the woods.”

He pauses, letting the words hang. Several people flinch. Someone mutters a prayer. “A storm is upon us, my flock. A beast walks beneath the blood moon. A creature of fang and hunger. This is not the hunger of wolves or wild dogs. This is spiritual hunger— A curse. A punishment. A reckoning.”

His voice rises, echoing against the old stones. “And it walks among us. It was sheltered among us. Protected. Fed—perhaps even loved.”

His gaze pierces the crowd. He does not name names, but everyone knows. “How many warnings must we be given? How much blood must be spilled before we act? If the gods have not struck it down, then perhaps they wait for us to take up the task! Perhaps it is our hands they demand!”

He spreads his arms wide in invocation. “Do you think this will stop with goats and chickens? With broken fences and torn earth? No. The wolf is at the door. Will we open it? Or will we rise, together, to drive it back into the darkness from whence it came?”

A long silence. And then—

The Reactions Begin

Elara Finch, standing in the side aisle, speaks sharply: “We should’ve done this weeks ago.” “We all know where this leads. They hid it. The whole family. They let it grow.” “It’s not just the girl we should worry about. It’s all of them.” Beside her, Eadric Barrow—normally silent—nods once. “Rot spreads. You don’t let it stay in the house.”

Murmurs ripple across the benches. Mira Ashford, rising from near the rear: “Stop this madness. Please.” “The Faelans have done nothing but try to survive. That girl is cursed, yes—but curses can be lifted.” “She hasn’t killed anyone. You’ll burn the house before checking if the hearth is still warm.” She turns, appealing directly to the room. “We’ve lived too close to the forest for too long to forget what happens when fear rules us.”

Ronan Thatcher, calm but firm, steps forward: “I respect Mira. I always have.” “But she hasn’t seen what I’ve seen.” “The tracks. The blood. The way the cattle were torn—not eaten. Torn.” He looks to Lucian, then to Elara. “I won’t let a mob form. But something has to be done. We need a proper search. A group that knows what it’s doing. If it really is her… we deal with it. Gods help us all.”

Cedric, standing near Mira, growls low: “You’ll regret the path this takes. Just make sure you remember who urged caution.”

The Other Attendees

Lieutenant Merrick, leaning against a column in Vane livery, arms crossed, watches with disinterest. He has three soldiers at his side, but says nothing. When the room grows heated, he smirks slightly—his presence is one of control, not participation. The Vane Family sits in a side pew. Gregor Vane looks pale, his hands shaking slightly. After Lucian’s fire reaches its peak, he leans to his wife and quietly departs. Roslyn, eyes narrowed, says nothing but watches Elara with something unreadable. Darin Vane, however, lingers. At some of Elara’s more violent comments, he smiles. Not a laugh—just a curl of the lip. He seems entirely unbothered. Old Nan Thornfield is there, clutching her cane. She says nothing, but her eyes glitter with sorrow. Tamsin Holloway whispers to Mira during the outbursts, nervous and pale. Brother Lyle, barely keeping his composure, mutters something—perhaps a prayer, perhaps a protest—but Lucian’s shadow looms large over him.

The Outcome

Ronan proposes the compromise: “No mob. But a hunting party. Just those who know what they’re doing.” Lucian nods gravely.

Elara volunteers on the spot. So does Eadric. Others look uncertain. Mira shakes her head and turns away. Cedric walks out. But the decision is made. The hunt begins in two days. Under the blood moon.

How They Learn What’s Needed

1. Mira Ashford – The Healer’s Limits

Trigger: After treating Aidan’s physical wounds, Mira calls upon the players. Scene: Mira sits at her herb-strewn table, frustrated, flipping through her notes and muttering, "The body mends… but the spirit rots." Dialogue: “This is no fever. No poison of fang or tooth. Something sank into him—something sorrowful. If I had moonleaf… perhaps. But even that won’t touch what’s inside.” She knows Ashroot, Moonleaf, and Yarrow are needed for the body—but hints there’s more, and tells them to seek out Old Man Cedric and Nanette Redleaf for the rest.

2. Old Man Cedric – The Myth in the Mirror

Trigger: Visiting Cedric with questions about healing the soul or curing curses. Scene: Cedric by the river, casting pebbles and murmuring old rhymes. Dialogue: “The old tales speak of wounds deeper than skin. When a man’s soul is caught between moon and blood, you need more than a salve. You need a story... completed.” He suggests three symbols: starlight, the impossible bloom, and a tether to what he loves most. Offers a vague legend of a child wounded by his brother’s curse and saved by “a flower that bloomed on sorrow,” “water that caught a star,” and “a thread from a heart unbroken.” He’ll mention Nanette may know the rhyme in full.

3. Nanette Redleaf – The Riddling Witch

Trigger: Visit her with the intention to find hope, not accusation. Scene: Her garden, vines creeping where they should not, crows watching from rafters. Riddle Spoken: “To mend the wound that no knife made, Bring me starlight, soft and stayed. Find the bloom where silence weeps, Where graveyard earth its secret keeps. And thread from blood that once ran wild, Bound with love of beast and child.” If pressed, she’ll explain the Graveblush flower, known to bloom on graves of those who died protecting someone. One such bloom was rumored to grow on a sunken grave in The Fens, marked only by a single stone and a rusted bell.

Finding the Components

1. Ashroot, Moonleaf, and Yarrow

Ashroot: Grows near old burned trees, possibly near the edge of the Greenwood Reach. Players might need to deal with protective spirits or corrupted animals nesting there. Moonleaf: Only grows under moonlight in a specific clearing. Finding it involves waiting under a waxing moon and identifying the correct glade. White Yarrow: Common, but the right ritual preparation must be done. Mira insists the yarrow be soaked in river water—raising the question of whether that water can be trusted anymore.

2. Starlight in Water

Fill a crystal vial with spring water at twilight. Catch the reflection of the first visible star. Must be sealed before dawn, or it loses its power. The only spring pure enough might be found near Old Whistlewing’s roost—requiring either negotiation with forest guardians or a stealthy approach.

3. Graveblush Bloom

A single one may grow in The Fens, over the grave of Rowan Hale, a trapper who died shielding a child from a bear decades ago. The Fens are misty, treacherous, and haunted by bog spirits. Finding the bloom may require listening for the rusted bell (the child tied it to his grave marker) and navigating illusions or sinking ground.

4. Thread from Liora’s Hair

Must be taken willingly. She must be spoken to during a lucid moment, perhaps between transformations or in dreams. Alternatively, players might find a strand caught on bark or in her family home, but it’s weaker and not enough alone—it must be blessed by intent, e.g. her family giving it over with love and hope.

Liora’s Descent

Liora’s trail is bloodied and scattered. She’s not hunting—she’s fleeing, desperate, confused. Each morning she wakes curled in the roots of an ancient tree, streaked with gore and trembling. Sometimes it’s a deer, sometimes something else. She begins to remember her dreams—visions of a great hunt, a forest that does not exist in this world, filled with masks and silver arrows and howling. She watches the village from afar, terrified of returning, ashamed of what she’s done.

Phase 3 Ends With:

The secret exposed. One villager dead, others wounded. The Faelans isolated and broken. Liora wild and on the run. The village in moral chaos.

Phase 4 will center on: Deciding what to do about Liora. Tracking her. Seeking a cure or hunting her down. Uncovering the deeper truth of her connection to the corrupted Hunt Spirit.

Phase 4: The Hunt Begins

Liora is loose. Wounded, feral, half-aware, she roams the Gloomwood — no longer fully beast, nor fully girl. The scent of blood calls to her, but flashes of her family and old life haunt her mind. What happens next depends entirely on who reaches her first — and what they bring with them.

Stakeholders & Their Roles

1. Liora Faelan – The Prey, the Predator, the Pivot

The Moon That Does Not Set

Since the night she burst from the homestead, a perpetual blood moon now looms in the night sky, refusing to wane. It stains the world in shades of crimson, like a wound that refuses to heal. Most nights it is low, barely veiled by clouds or tree canopies, watching. Birds fall silent. Insects die. The world holds its breath. The longer this persists, the more the land itself begins to sour: livestock miscarry, strange fungal growths appear near water sources, dreams are disrupted. The moon’s glow is a curse mirrored, as if a reflection of the corrupted spirit inside Liora projecting outward.

By Day: The Girl

During the daylight hours — or what passes for it beneath the canopy of Gloomwood — Liora is in hiding. Exhausted, half-starved, wounded from her transformations and the pain they leave behind, she is a girl again… but a girl barely holding on.

Hiding Spots Within hollow roots of great, ancient trees. Caves or dens abandoned by animals. The branches of rotting, hanging trees, where she curls up high and still, like a feral bird. One sacred location: a moss-covered boulder near a ruined shrine of the Hunt, where her dreams are quieter.

Her State: Bruised, bleeding, always hungry. Covered in dirt, sap, dried blood — but her eyes are sharp, gold-flecked, alert. She speaks little, sometimes not at all. She’s plagued by whispers, hallucinations, and fragmented memories. She might be found drawing spirals in the dirt, whispering her brother’s name, or clutching a piece of cloth from her mother. She sleeps only in bursts, terrified of dreaming.

By Night: The Beast

At night, the moon demands blood. The beast that Liora becomes is not bound to a singular form, but each transformation seems more wrong, less wolf and more monster. Bone-jointed limbs, elongated claws, eyes that burn with unnatural red light.

The creature moves with unnatural speed, its senses sharp, its emotions animalistic — but not entirely gone. She does not kill needlessly. In fact, she’s often seen stalking prey without attacking — as if trying to resist. But when hunger or fear overwhelms her, something else takes control.

Patterns Circles the village perimeter. Slaughters cattle, but never eats them. Leaves paw prints that transform mid-trail into barefoot ones. Watches windows at night, especially the Ashford and Holloway homes — places where she once felt safe.

If Someone Finds Her

During the Day: If approached gently, with no weapons drawn, Liora may flee at first. She’s wary, twitchy, but not hostile unless cornered. Her speech is broken. She may recognize old friends, especially Aidan, Mira, or Tamsin. She will not accept help easily. She suspects everyone, thinks she deserves punishment. If injured or offered items from her past (a song, a ribbon, a carving her brother made), she may pause, weep, or whisper something before fleeing again.

During the Night: The beast does not respond to words unless those words are: Spoken in fae-tongue or Old Speech. Echoing something from her dreams or childhood. Uttered by Aidan. If a player approaches her with aggression, the beast attacks, but if they show vulnerability, she might hesitate. Certain sounds — such as the howl of a healthy wolf or the ringing of a small silver bell (from the Faelan household shrine) — can trigger a stop, a tilt of the head, a flicker of awareness.

How to Approach Liora

To succeed, one must appeal to one of three things:

1. Memory

Mention of family, childhood games, her brother’s wooden carvings, or songs. Bringing something personal, like a drawing from her old room, her mother’s scarf.

2. Pain

Recognition of her suffering. Words like “You’re not a monster,” or “We can help,” may break through momentarily. She sometimes whispers “I didn’t want this” when approached with empathy.

3. The Wild

Speaking like the forest — using poetry, primal rhythm, or fey-logic. The Hunt respects directness, survival, ritual. If someone lays down their weapon, bares their throat, or offers a piece of their own blood, the beast may listen.

Notes on Encountering Her

Encounters may shift between girl and beast depending on the blood moon’s height, the state of corruption, or whether she has recently fed. Those who have spoken with her say her voice comes from somewhere else, as if filtered through wind and leaves. At rare moments, if she’s pushed too hard, she may fall to her knees and scream not in rage but in sorrow, tearing at her own skin as if trying to claw the beast out.

2. The Faelord of the Hunt – A Servant of Lady Sylthara

He Who Runs Before the Horn, The Pale Antler, The Crimson Chase

Nature and Role

This Faelord is not a god, but close — one of Lady Sylthara’s oldest champions. He was once mortal, perhaps an elf, perhaps something else entirely, but long ago shed his name when he joined the eternal Wild Hunt. He now rides only when the Hunt rides, or when something breaks the ancient balance of predator and prey. Liora’s curse is a wound cut across the Hunt’s order. The spirit that bit her was his, a lesser hunter gone rogue — perhaps corrupted, perhaps weakened — but still of his domain. Now, with the blood moon hanging unmoving in the sky, and a cursed half-hound sowing chaos, the Faelord takes notice. He does not come to heal. He comes to restore the order of the Hunt. Whether that means killing Liora or crowning her depends entirely on her path.

Appearance Tall, thin as bone, and draped in pale, living fur and bark-strung armor. Antlers rise from his skull — not worn, but grown, with moss and starlight caught in their tines. Eyes like glowing hollows, always shifting color between amber, ice, and blood. His steed is an elk-like horror, many-legged, whose breath fogs the air in green frost. He speaks with quiet gravity, using few words — but those words linger in the bones.

Motivations Restore the sanctity of the Hunt. A rogue beast taints the balance. Investigate whether Liora’s condition is corruption, or a lost predator waiting to be reclaimed. Determine if Liora is prey to be culled, or a hound worthy to run at his side. Test the mortals who meddle in the blood and dust of the forest. Those who interfere with the Hunt invite it upon themselves. He does not hate Liora. Nor does he wish to save her. He is a force, not a friend.

When and How He Appears The Faelord does not come to the village. He may be seen: Watching from ridges or branches, his silhouette painted against the blood moon. Arriving at the edge of the glade where Liora sleeps — not speaking, only watching. Crossing the party’s path with a horn blast that freezes the air, a signal to begin a chase or a test. Encountered in dreams or rituals connected to the Wild Hunt (especially if players invoke the Hunt’s lore). He rarely fights directly — unless provoked or challenged. Then, he is deadly swift.

Dealing with Him

Ways He May Engage

Trial by Chase If the players wish to spare Liora, he may offer a ritual hunt: “If she can outrun the death meant for her, she will have earned her place among us.” This can be a literal chase through a nightmare-warped forest, with illusions, spirits, and predators closing in — ending in a symbolic kill or rebirth.

Offering a Mark He may offer to mark Liora with a hunting rune — a binding to the Hunt — which removes her curse but enslaves her to his service. “She will no longer be the hunted. She will hunt for us.” If the players object, they must offer something greater in return: a powerful spirit, a name, a memory, or a soul.[/p4]

Declaration of Sentence If he deems Liora lost, he will pass final judgment and begin to hunt her. Unless stopped, he will find her and end her — cleanly, reverently, and absolutely.

Interaction with Other Stakeholders

Lady Sylthara: He serves her, and if her name is invoked properly, he may pause — or alter his judgment based on her will. Isolde: He has no love for the witches. He blames their imbalance for the corruption. He may warn Isolde if they meet: “Even the fiercest thorn wilts before the true season of the Hunt.” The Entity’s Whispers: He despises them. Where the Entity corrupts through deceit, the Faelord hunts openly. He may clash with a corrupted creature or sense their presence. The Village: He views them as sheep — only interesting when they grow fangs or run well.

Endings the Faelord Influences

If Liora is cleansed, and shown to hold balance between beast and girl, he may bow to her, recognizing her as a new Hound of the Hunt. “She is no longer prey.” If she succumbs to corruption, he may be one of her executioners — unless stopped. If a proper offering is made — perhaps Aidan’s near-death devotion, a player’s sacrifice, or a blood-oath — he may turn away and let the mortals handle the matter.

3. The Whispered Ones – Corrupted Spirits of the Entity

Children of Silence | The Pale Choir | Murmurs in the Bark

The Whispers and the Corruption

Generic article | May 11, 2025

Origin and Nature

The Whispers are not one thing. They are echoes of the Entity’s mind — slivers of intention, thought-forms wrapped in rot and dreams. They do not speak aloud. Instead, they manifest in: Dreams and night terrors Hallucinations and visions Strange, compulsive thoughts whispered just behind the eyes Sudden silences in the forest, unnatural stillness They are not conscious in the way mortals understand, but they serve the Entity's will by nature, like mycelium serving the fungus, or blood flowing to a wound. They are born where despair gathers, where secrets fester, where someone looks too long into a shadow and thinks, “What if I gave in?” Some take vague form — veiled humanoid shapes, crooked beasts that never move when watched, or tongues of mist that hiss through trees and whisper regrets. Others remain formless, simply a presence.

Behavior

Where the Faelord watches Liora with a predator’s eye, the Whispers coil around her. They are drawn to her sorrow, her confusion, her violence. They offer her things. “They will never forgive you. Let me help you forget them.” “The boy you hurt will never smile again. But you could silence his grief.” “You were always meant to be more than they allowed. Let me show you.” Each time she kills, especially if she loses herself, they grow louder. They do not seek to possess her all at once — they want to slowly hollow her out, to make her ripe for the Entity’s arrival. Should she ever surrender her will entirely, the Whispers will call out, and a greater Shadow will step in.

Manifestations in the World

In Phase 4, their signs might be: Rings of ash and petals found around sites of recent violence — small offerings made to them by animals turned strange. Liora’s own blood sometimes whispering as it spills onto stone. Trees whose bark grows in the shape of eyes, and whose roots pull corpses into their grasp without decay. A child in the village drawing crude images of Liora surrounded by smiling, eyeless figures. When asked, the child says, “The song people showed me.”

The Whispers’ Role in the Faelan Plotline

They represent the pull toward corruption and the final descent into becoming a thrall of the Entity. If players delay too long or handle Liora with violence, the Whispers may: Anchor her curse, making it permanent and feral. Spawn new horrors in the forest that hunt alongside her. Begin to manipulate other cursed or traumatized individuals (Tamsin, perhaps, or one of the children who’s seen her). If the players attempt to cleanse or heal Liora, they may find themselves haunted by the Whispers instead — experiencing shared dreams, strange compulsions, or visions of what might have been had they chosen darkness.

How to Resist or Banish the Whispers

The Whispers are subtle. They are not easily banished by blade or spell. But they can be silenced in key ways: Symbols of True Memory: If Liora is confronted with a moment of untainted love, a relic or memory uncorrupted (like a drawing from her childhood, or a charm she made with Aidan), the Whispers falter. Forest Cleansing: If a ritual is performed near the tree where she wakes, invoking old spirits of balance (possibly with help from Agatha), the roots of the corruption can be burned out. Spiritual Reversal: A chosen character might enter her dreams, reliving the moment she was bitten — but altering it, replacing fear with hope. This doesn’t cure her, but it may weaken the Entity’s grip and remove the Whispers.

How They Interact with Other Stakeholders

With the Faelord: He despises them. He believes their presence makes the Hunt impure. If they corrupt Liora fully, he will no longer seek to claim her — he will destroy her. With Isolde: She is unaware they serve something beyond her. They whisper to her, too, though she believes they are fragments of her own insight. With the Village: Subtly. People grow more paranoid. Dreams become prophetic or nightmarish. Trust erodes. Father Lucian may hear the whispers and mistake them for holy inspiration.

4. Isolde – The False Comforter

Appears in glamour, offering comfort, power, and clarity to Liora. Pretends to understand her suffering. Offers to “help her understand” what she is becoming. Isolde sees a weapon in Liora. Not out of cruelty — but because she truly believes the girl has no path forward with mortals.

Her Agenda: She wants to claim Liora as her champion, much like Darin Vane. She might even offer to bind her bloodlust or “teach her to control it” — for a price.

Isolde’s involvement in the Faelan curse’s Phase 4 is not central, but it is significant and dangerous—a side-thread of influence that might become the deciding factor depending on the players’ actions. She does not seek Liora directly, but the awakening of a wild, corrupted spirit like Liora draws her attention. More importantly, the blood moon lingering over the forest disturbs even her, and she comes to investigate—driven half by curiosity, half by instinct. This is how she moves: not with a plan, but with desire.

Isolde’s Current State

By this stage in the broader narrative, Isolde is: Unaware of the Entity's true nature, but more entangled with it than ever. Wielding corrupted magic, especially blood-weaving and influence rituals that twist will, memory, and form. Still living with her sisters, but increasingly aloof and autonomous. Obsessed with proving her vision of the forest’s "true future"—a realm of unchecked growth, power, and primal magic. She has heard rumors of the beast stalking the edges of the village, the whispers of a curse. More importantly, she feels it. The same tug in the ley lines that Damos once followed now pulses again—something wild, fractured, and powerful, caught between predator and prey.

Isolde’s Role in This Phase

Isolde is a wild card: she might offer aid, manipulation, or violence depending on how she is approached and how far into her corruption she has fallen. She arrives during the blood moon At some point in Phase 4, when the blood moon refuses to wane and the beast has begun leaving not just carcasses but signs of ritualistic transformation (strange runes burned into trees, blood blooming into flowers), Isolde appears. She walks from the deeper wood, hair wild, eyes aflame, trailed by motes of violet fire. She appears at the edge of a confrontation or at a ritual space—perhaps the glade near the great root where Liora hides.

What She Wants

Isolde doesn’t know it yet, but the Entity is curious about Liora too. It sees in her a vessel—something strong, fractured, and already steeped in corruption. Isolde acts on this impulse without knowing it isn’t her own. Her desires might be: To harness Liora’s primal magic—a cursed spirit-wolf, touched by both fae and decay, is too tempting a subject to ignore. To experiment with purification vs. transformation, curious whether this beast might be bound, cleansed, or twisted further. To test herself against the beast—she might want to challenge Liora in a ritual or magical duel to assert dominance. Isolde may offer to “help” the players. Her help always has a cost—but it may be useful if the party is struggling to track or contain Liora.

Her View of Liora

She finds the idea of a spirit-bound werebeast fascinating. She calls Liora: “A child of instinct, not will. A puzzle caught in tooth and root. Tell me, do you think she still dreams in her own tongue?” She has no sympathy, only curiosity. But if players invoke Agatha, or Selene, or even old debts, she may be swayed to assist—so long as she gets to witness the transformation, or have a token to study after.

Interactions with Players

Isolde might… Appear uninvited during a key scene—perhaps when the party attempts a ritual to calm or bind Liora. Offer to draw out the beast through magic, or even to pull the spirit from her entirely—at great cost. Attempt to confront Liora directly, seeing her as a potential rival or kindred power. If treated with suspicion, she will not fight unless provoked—though her presence disturbs the local spirits and may provoke the corrupted forest itself. If treated with genuine curiosity or respect, she may share fragments of ritual knowledge, or even a spell to shield the players’ dreams from the whispers.

Possible Outcomes

Best case: Isolde is intrigued but keeps her distance. She gives the party just enough insight to save Liora—reluctantly respecting their decision, perhaps even secretly impressed. Neutral case: Isolde becomes a secondary threat, intervening with a binding spell or even trying to claim Liora for study. She may flee if confronted. Worst case: She triggers a magical conflict—perhaps “accidentally” accelerating Liora’s transformation, forcing the beast to lash out and complicating an already unstable situation.

5. The Village Hunters – Fearful Men with Fire and Iron

The Hunters and Stakeholders of Ravenshollow

Ronan Thatcher – The Steady Hand

Village blacksmith. Calm, respected, and deliberate—but pragmatic. He doesn’t relish the idea of hunting Liora, but he believes the risk to the village can’t be ignored any longer. “You don’t let a sickness spread because you knew the man it started in.” He calls for action, but insists on caution: no mobs, no panic. If anyone might delay things for reason’s sake, it’s Ronan—but only for a time. He will lead the organizational effort—gathering tools, volunteers, and lending authority. He’s not the one stalking the woods—but he enables those who do.

Elara Finch – The Huntress With a Grudge

Sharp-eyed, cold, and efficient. Elara doesn’t speak often, but when she does, it cuts. She lost someone years ago in strange circumstances—maybe during an earlier, hidden incident involving Liora—and she has never forgiven the forest, or anything touched by its curses. “You want to play fair with something that tears things open and laps up the blood?” She sees no ambiguity in the matter. She wants to bring the beast down. She organizes the actual pursuit, choosing the trails, setting traps, directing those who follow. Her hunting methods are brutal and effective. She’s not beyond using bait—living or not.

Eadric Barrow – The Quiet Blade

The gravedigger. Pale, quiet, and seen too much. He says little, but follows Elara’s lead. Perhaps he knows more about what haunts Liora than he admits. Maybe he saw something long ago—when the curse first stirred—but kept it buried. Now, he walks behind Elara, with a sharp knife and eyes like twilight. He’ll say: “Some things die by steel. Others just need a grave.” If Liora is wounded or cornered, he’s the one who might try to finish it.

Father Lucian Reyne – The Zealot’s Tongue

Lucian doesn’t hunt, but his words fuel the fire. He fans fear with sermons and muttered warnings. He quotes scripture twisted into righteous vengeance. “The beast walks among us, born of sin and shadow. And those who protect it are part of the same rot.” He may not hold a torch—but he lights them. Lucian encourages those most afraid to demand action. If he’s not stopped, he may lead a secondary mob, or even push the hunters to kill Liora on sight, even if she is human when they find her.

The Shape of the Village’s Hunt

Ronan gathers the group. He ensures it’s organized, not a wild mob. Elara leads the actual trail, with Eadric always close behind. Lucian rouses the people with fear. He’s not in the forest, but he demands proof of her death—and will be there to declare divine justice when it’s done. They begin setting watches. Then traps. Then patrols. If nothing changes, they will find her.

What the Party Can Do

Delay: Convince Ronan to stall the hunt or split the group. Divide: Sow doubt between Ronan and Elara—maybe through Aidan, if he's healing. Expose: Reveal Lucian’s extremism or hint at Elara’s vengeance blinding her. Protect: Track Liora first. Warn her. Help her hide or confront the hunters under control. Heal: If Aidan’s healing is well underway, use him as a symbol. “You saw her strike—but she didn’t kill. She still knows her brother.”

6. The Forest Itself

The Gloomwood is fractured, laced with magic both old and wrong. Areas shift. Roads vanish. Tracks lead nowhere. Creatures are twisted by Isolde’s magic and the entity’s rising power. Danger lies in illusion and shadow — but also in tests, especially if someone dares walk the path of redemption.

Healing and Redemption — The Path of Starlight

To truly heal Liora, three things must align:

A. Aidan Must Be Saved

His recovery offers her an emotional tether. If he dies, she spirals beyond reach. If he lives and forgives her, it may unlock a critical moment of clarity.

B. The Curse Must Be Isolated

A rite of balance — calling upon forest spirits (Agatha? Selene?) or using old charms to bind and separate the corruption. Requires symbolic ingredients: The breath of a living wolf. Starlight in a bottle, captured at a fae-glade. A moonstone carved with her name, buried under a tree she once loved.

C. She Must Choose

She must face what she’s done. If she accepts the rite, even while raging — there is hope. If she runs, or kills again, she risks becoming too far gone.

Endings and Resolutions

Depending on how the story unfolds, several possible fates await Liora:

1. Death

Killed by villagers, hunters, or even the party. Might occur by accident, in battle, or as a mercy. Leaves a tragic, painful legacy for the Faelan family.

2. Corrupted Champion

If she accepts Isolde or the Entity, she becomes a beast of darkness — a monstrous force bound to shadow. May appear again as a foe later.

3. Joins the Wild Hunt

If the players convince the Faelord of her strength — and Liora accepts the path — she becomes a predator of the hunt. Still dangerous, but balanced. She leaves her family, but becomes something else: a myth.

4. Force Untamed

She breaks all chains, rejects all masters — and disappears into the forest. Neither healed nor corrupted. Free, but wild. An unstable presence in future stories.

5. Healed and Returned

If Aidan lives, the rite succeeds, and the village can be swayed — she may be freed of the beast. Likely not fully — perhaps the spirit sleeps inside her — but she can rejoin her family. Whether the village forgives her or not is another trial.