The River Nymph

The Corruption of the River Nymph

Once, the river that wound through the Vale of Ravens sang with life. Beneath its clear surface danced Naila, the river nymph—serene, graceful, and beloved. Her silver hair shimmered like starlight on the current, and her laughter was soft as reeds in the breeze. Children claimed to glimpse her silhouette wading in moonlight, and even the sternest farmers left offerings on the banks during planting season.

But Naila no longer sings.

The water runs darker now, sluggish and moody. The spirits of the stream, once her gentle kin, tug at nets and whisper cruel things from the reeds. Fishermen speak of shadowy forms under the surface, and the mill creaks and groans as if under the weight of unseen hands. Some say Naila still lingers—trapped, grieving, changed. Others say she’s gone, and the river belongs to something else now.

A name is spoken in hushed tones: Damos, the Laughing Thorn. A satyr once mischievous, now twisted. He mocks the old ways and dances in the wake of despair, turning spirit against spirit, whispering poison into the flow.

Something was taken from Naila. Something vital.
And until it is returned, the river will not forgive.

The River Nymph: Naila of the Silver Flow

Long before the shadow crept into the forest and the river soured, Nalia was known—if never fully understood—by the people of Ravenshollow. She was not worshipped in the way the old gods were, nor was she called upon like a guardian. Nalia simply was—as much a part of the valley as the river itself. A presence, a breath, a voice in the reeds.

Most villagers never saw her with their eyes, but all knew her touch.

When the river ran clear and steady, they said Nalia was singing. When fish filled the nets and the mill turned smoothly through the seasons, they gave quiet thanks at the water’s edge, leaving wildflowers, polished stones, or folded bits of cloth as humble offerings.

Children whispered tales of seeing her reflection in the bubbling surface of the stream—a pale figure with silver hair, drifting just beneath the current. They told stories of a song in the reeds that made you forget where you were, of cool hands brushing yours if you slipped and fell too near the water’s edge. Parents never scolded them for such talk. They simply nodded, and told them to be kind to the river.

Nalia rarely revealed herself, but when she did, it was to those who had quietly earned her trust—her chosen. A farmer who tended his fields with care and never polluted the stream might one evening find her standing knee-deep in the shallows, watching him with eyes like flowing water. A grieving widow who cast her sorrows into the river might hear a gentle voice hum an old lullaby known only to her lost beloved.

In these rare moments, Nalia would take a shape gentle but unearthly—a woman formed of moonlight and river mist, with hair like silver willows and a voice soft as rainfall. She never stayed long, never spoke much. But those who met her were changed. They carried a calmness, a quiet knowing. They said her eyes held the memory of the river's birth and the sorrow of every leaf it had carried away.

Her most enduring bond was with the children of the village, who swore she played with them beneath the water, never needing breath, and braided garlands from reeds that stayed fresh for weeks. Some claimed she protected those who were kind to the river—turning aside twisted ankles, calming sudden floods, or guiding lost dogs home by starlight.

She was not a god, nor a guardian in shining armor.
But she was grace, and the village felt safe knowing the river had a soul.

That was before the silence.
Before the laughter in the water turned cruel.
Before the river began to pull instead of hold.

Now, they speak her name only in whispers.
And wonder if the river still remembers who she was.

The Reflection Stone: Forgotten Lore and Living Superstition

Ancient Purpose

Long before the corruption, before even the current generation of villagers was born, the Reflection Stone was regarded as a place of communion:

Prayers were whispered to the Lady of the River — for safe harvests, for healthy births, for guidance in troubled times.
Small sacrifices were left at the water’s edge or at the base of the stone:
A rabbit bound in woven reeds (symbolizing a plea for fertility or luck).
Braided garlands of wildflowers (offerings of beauty and thanks).
Occasionally, silver coins pressed into the mud beneath the water (seeking safe journeys).

It was believed that if the offering was accepted — the reflection on the pond shifting or a soft breeze stirring the water — then the request was heard.

Outside the village

Geographic Location | Apr 27, 2025

Damos, Before the Gloom — The Wild Joy of the Forest

Long before the Gloom took root, Damos was a creature of mirth and mischief, a satyr who lived freely beneath the canopy of Ravensvale Wood. His laughter echoed through glades and gullies, and his name was spoken with equal parts frustration and fondness by the villagers and forest-folk alike. He was the kind of spirit who'd tangle a child’s boots in ivy, then leave a perfect wild strawberry on their windowsill the next morning. He teased the witches, borrowed charms without asking, and led weary travelers in circles—only to guide them home before dawn, none the worse for it.

Damos was chaos, but never cruelty. A wild note in nature’s symphony.

He was also, quietly and deeply, in love with Nalia.

Where Damos was laughter and movement, Nalia was calm and song. He would wait at the river’s edge, flute in hand, pretending to practice while hoping she might surface. When she did—rare and radiant—he’d speak too much, trying to charm her with clumsy wit and foolish tricks. She never scolded, only smiled in that distant, sorrowful way of hers.

She was kind, but never returned his affection.
She belonged to the water. He to the thorns.

Still, he adored her.

And when she withdrew deeper into the river—when her visits grew rare as the forest darkened—Damos felt her absence like a wound.

The Fall — Love Turned Sour

As the Gloom crept in, Damos began to change. He felt the shift before most—he heard the forest's song fray at the edges, felt the thorns lengthen and twist beneath his hooves. But where others recoiled, Damos leaned into it, mistaking the corrosion for evolution. The Gloom gave his laughter a sharper edge. His tricks began to hurt. He told himself it was freedom—that he was shedding the old rules that had made him a fool in Nalia’s eyes.

But beneath the cruelty, there was grief.
Grief that she would not love him.
Grief that she vanished while he remained.
And the deeper truth: he had always wanted her to see him—not just as a fool—but as something powerful.

Then came the moment that sealed it.

On a waning moonlit night, Nalia walked the banks, her essence dimmer, her sadness heavy in the air. Damos, now twisted by months—perhaps years—of slow corruption, confronted her. He begged her to join him, to let go of the order and balance she clung to. To laugh with him, finally, as he did when the forest was wild and free.

She refused.

Not with scorn, but sorrow. She pitied what he had become.

That was enough.

With a thorned relic pulsing with the essence of the dark entity—something he’d stolen or perhaps been gifted—he bound her, pierced her spirit, and sank her essence into the crystal beneath the river.

In doing so, he didn’t just imprison her—he stole the very heart of what she was, and with it, the last part of himself that was still good.

Damos Now — The Laughing Thorn

Now, Damos is a creature of wicked delight and manic sorrow. His laughter still echoes in the forest—but it no longer lifts the heart. It chills. He wears twisted horns overgrown with vine and thorn, his once-musical voice now cracking like broken reeds. His eyes are too wide. Too knowing. He dances still, but his steps are sharp, like something broken trying to remember joy.

He hates the memory of who he was—but he hates Nalia more, for not saving him, not choosing him, not loving him back.
And yet… deep in the murk of his mind, he still watches the river.
Still listens for her song.

And some nights, if the water is still and the moon is new,
he plays his flute to the current.

Not for power.
Not for pain.
But for the one he lost—and broke.

Damos’s Personality Traits

Charismatic yet Cruel:

Damos speaks with charm and eloquence, often using flowery, poetic language to mask his malice. He relishes manipulating emotions, turning admiration into despair. He thrives on the suffering of others, seeing pain as the "purest form of truth."

Mischievously Sadistic:

His tricks are never harmless—they’re crafted to sow discord, doubt, and fear. He finds joy in exposing people’s weaknesses and turning them against each other. While he avoids outright lying, his words are twisted to obscure meaning and intention, making truths seem like lies and vice versa.

Damos sees himself as superior to humans, believing their emotions and bonds make them weak. He often mocks these traits, especially love and loyalty, as futile. He isn’t entirely evil but views chaos and suffering as tools to teach humans their "true nature." He believes his actions are a form of enlightenment.

Damos uses poetic metaphors and similes, often referencing nature to give his words an air of wisdom.

His sentences are layered with double meanings, making it difficult to discern his true intentions.

Mocking Phrases and Dialogue

"Oh, little firefly, how bright you burn for those who will never notice you. Tell me, does it sting more to shine or to flicker out unseen?"

"Love, loyalty, family—what quaint little crutches you mortals lean upon. Tell me, what will you grasp when I sweep them away?"

"Ah, sweet Ivy, your mother was such a delight. She danced in shadows and whispered secrets under moonlight. I wonder, did she ever tell you whose name she sighed?"

"Fetch your swords and your charms, oh brave ones. But remember: a drowning man’s struggle only pulls him deeper."

"Your mill turns no grain, your nets catch no fish, and your hearts hold no hope. Truly, you mortals make chaos so easy."

The Weaving of the Trap: How Damos Bound Naila

Long before the crystal prison took shape beneath the water, Damos the Laughing Thorn had begun to spin his web. He knew Naila, the river nymph, could not be taken by violence—she was spirit, woven into the waters, ancient and elusive. But like all beings of magic, her essence could be entangled, weakened, and bound, if approached just right.

Damos needed three strands for the snare:

A way to siphon her strength,
A means to channel it,
And a ritual to hold it fast.

The First Strand: The Binding Thread (Iona Briar)

"All she had to do was weave a thing of beauty. And I gave her beauty beyond imagining."

Damos approached Iona Briar, the bitter and brilliant seamstress, under the guise of admiration. He gave her a spool of shadow-thread, laced with river-essence—Naila’s essence, stolen drop by drop from the eddies of the river.

He told Iona it came from a dying spirit, fading gracefully, and asked her to weave a ceremonial braid as a tribute. In truth, this braid was a binding cord, crafted from Naila's own being. Once completed, it could anchor her in place if she were ever separated from her waters.

Iona, flattered, curious, and craving recognition, did as asked—never asking too many questions.

“To touch the eternal, even for a moment,” she whispered as she wove. “That is the work of an artist.”

“It was never about hurting her—it was about becoming more.”

“Damos offered me something rare. Not just thread, but inspiration—alive, ancient, touched by beauty I could never craft on my own. I wove that spirit not to destroy her, but to honor what she was. To preserve a moment of grace in my own hands. I didn’t know what it would become... not entirely.”

“People always looked past me. Pretty girls, clever elders, loud men. My weaves were admired, but I was never the prize. They have what they don’t deserve—and I’ve spent years watching them squander it. Damos said I could take just a thread, just a taste. I didn’t think it would hurt her.”

“And when I saw her essence in the thread—how it shimmered, how it sang—I knew I could make something eternal. Maybe that was selfish. But art is born of need. And I’ve needed to be seen for too long.”

Her Reason:
A mixture of envy, artistic obsession, and the longing to be seen as powerful and irreplaceable. She tells herself she didn't know it would imprison Nalia, but her ambition silenced her conscience. Iona does NOT regret her actions, indeed her deeds have become even darker in her strive for beuty, youth and fame.

The Second Strand: The Poisoned Waters (Aidan Wren)

"You can't trap a spirit at her full strength. You must first hollow her."

Damos next visited Aidan Wren, a proud farmer watching his orchards fail, his crops wither, his prayers to the river go unanswered. Damos offered him an urn of “blessed ash”—a powder made from thornwood bark and something darker still.

“It will cleanse the water. Drive out the rot. Make the land fertile again,” he said.

But the ash was laced with corruption. When Aidan poured it into the pond near his northern orchard, the water turned sluggish, sick. Naila drank from that poisoned pond, and it dulled her senses, made her essence more fragile, her awareness blurred, her connection to the river fractured.

Aidan believed he was healing the land. But he was salting the foundation of Naila’s soul.

“I did it for the land. I did it for my family.”

“They don’t understand. They never farmed land that turns to rot under your feet. My crops were dying. The orchard was thinning. The river water had lost something—I could feel it in the trees. I asked for blessings. I left offerings. The spirit never answered.”

“Then Damos came. He said the spirit had grown proud. Distant. That she’d forgotten the people she once helped. He gave me the powder—thorn ash and bark from an old tree—and said it would wake the soil again. Stir the roots. He said she'd recover stronger, and the river would too.”

“I didn’t mean to weaken her. I never wanted that. I wanted a harvest, that’s all. For Catherine, for the children. What good is a spirit that won’t answer her own river?”

His Reason:
Desperation and disillusionment. Aidan saw his family’s livelihood failing and believed he was making a ritual offering to heal the land. Damos exploited his faith worn thin and his desire to provide, twisting it into complicity.

The Third Strand: The Ritual Circle (Jorin Fell)

"A spirit can't be bound without a place. So I had one built—stone by stone, lie by lie."

To hold Naila fast, Damos needed a ritual circle, etched in runes older than the village. He hired Jorin Fell, a mercenary from the Black Talon Company, with no love for spirits and no questions asked.

Jorin carved the runes by moonlight around the pond, guided by Damos’s sketches—symbols to sever movement, dampen resistance, and channel the braided thread’s magic. He embedded silver filings in the stone and sealed the work with wax made from black reed sap.

Jorin thought it was a charm or minor spell. He had no idea the place itself would become Naila’s prison.

“I don’t ask questions. I get the job done.”

“Gregor needed allies in this place. Damos was one of ‘em. Didn’t trust the bastard, but gold talks louder than trust. He handed me runes, old symbols, and said: ‘Carve these into the stone near the pond. Quiet work. Quick job.’”

“Said it was a tribute. A focusing ward to help spirits pass peacefully. What did I care? Spirits ain’t ever done a thing for me. I carved the damn things and took my coin.”

“Only later did I see the face in the water. White hair like riverlight. Eyes like sorrow. I knew then what I’d helped hold down. But I can’t undo what’s done. And I can’t afford to care.”

His Reason:
Pure pragmatism and moral detachment. Jorin doesn’t care about the consequences—only the job and the coin. But regret simmers beneath his calm exterior, showing cracks when confronted with the spirit’s pain.

The Moment of Binding

When the moon waned low, and Naila, weakened and wandering from her usual stream, rose from the river to walk the banks—Damos was waiting.

Luring her toward the poisoned pond with an illusion of a drowning child, he drew her into the heart of the ritual.

“It is not hatred, dear one,” he whispered. “It is necessity. You are a gate. And I need it closed.”

With the binding braid wrapped around her, the corrupted circle carved, and her spirit already dimmed from the ash, the trap sprang shut. Naila screamed—but it echoed only in water and dream. Her essence fractured, most of it sealed in a crystal placed beneath the pond’s surface.

The rest of her scattered—sparks in the reeds, reflections in shallows, riddles whispered to the gifted.

Final Notes

Damos didn’t need to explain everything to his colluders. He gave each a truth small enough to be believable, but warped just enough to suit his need. None of them truly believed they’d done something monstrous—at least, not at first.

And so the nymph was forgotten, save for songs heard by children and the occasional flicker of silver light on a dark stream.

But now she stirs again.
And the river remembers.

Many of the people and places of Ravenswood and the farms surrounding it can be found described in these following links:

The River’s Whisper: Chaos Beneath the Surface

Once placid and nurturing, the river that winds through the Vale of Ravens has grown restless. The spirits that once dwelled within it—playful sprites, trickling water wisps, and quiet whisper-folk—have turned unpredictable under the sway of Damos, the Laughing Thorn. No longer do they dance with the current or guard the riverbanks with gentle ripples. Now, they laugh cruelly, twist the water’s course, and use illusion and mischief as weapons.

These corrupted spirits aren’t bound by malice alone—they act with chaotic glee, taking delight in confusion, accidents, and emotional wounds. Not all of them have succumbed; some still fight the tide of corruption. But their resistance is quiet and often drowned beneath the louder tricks of their twisted kin.

The Mill in Turmoil

The Mill, once blessed by the gentle flow of the river under Nalia’s guidance, has become a focal point for the spirits’ torment:

Millwheel Sabotage: Water surges unexpectedly or drops away entirely. Whirlpools spin in still pools. The millwheel jams without cause, its cogs twisted or choked with unnatural vines.
Tools Vanish or Decay: Mallets disappear. Hooks rust overnight. Ropes fray mid-use. Flour bags are found sodden, as if soaked from within, and ghostly handprints linger on the windowpanes.
Haunting Sounds: Workers report hearing laughter—too high, too gleeful. Water slaps rhythmically against the walls as if mimicking footsteps. Ivy Holloway once heard her own voice echo back at her, whispering secrets she never said aloud.

These incidents breed fear and superstition. Some refuse night shifts. Others carry sprigs of ash or charms blessed by Mira Ashford just to feel safe near the sluice gates.

A boy once drowned in two feet of calm water after going to fetch a bucket. No ripples, no sound. His mother claims the water was whispering his name when she found him.
Ivy Holloway has had repeated dreams of a silver-haired woman standing at the threshold of the mill, lips moving but with no sound, while red roses bloom at her feet and thorns climb the doorframe.
Mocking laughter echoes from the sluice gates some nights, followed by sloshing footsteps — but no one is ever there.

Fishing and Farming Falter

The river no longer feeds as it once did. The fish are fewer, and when they come, they are wrong—pale-eyed, sickly, or filled with river-mud and bones. Nets return shredded or knotted with black thorns, vines that shouldn't grow in water. A fisherman once hauled up a net full of teeth—not his own.

Fields Irrigated by the River yield bitter produce. Crops twist and curl like they’ve grown in poor dreams. Carrots bleed red sap. Cabbages mold from the inside out. Some farmers whisper the land is sick—not just cursed, but angry.

A few now refuse to water their crops from the river at all, relying instead on dug wells and prayer. Mistrust grows, and with it, the divide between old ways and new fears.

Growing Fear in the Village

As these accidents and disturbances continue:

Rumors spread. Some blame the witches. Others say Nalia has turned cruel. Still others claim the river is not cursed, but haunted.
Parents keep their children from the water. Fishermen avoid casting nets at dusk. The once-fertile land along the river lies fallow in places, untended and watched with unease.

And always, just beneath it all, laughter.
Light and lilting.
Like a flute played on broken reeds.

The Locket

Ivy Holloway has always known there were things her family did not say aloud. Whispers that trailed behind her like smoke, glances that lasted a second too long. She bore her mother’s soft cheekbones, but her eyes—those sharp, gray-green eyes—were not like anyone else’s in the Holloway family. Not truly.

Her mother, Margery, died when Ivy was young—drowned in the river, they said. A tragedy. An accident. A quiet burial and a stone that reads only beloved daughter, gentle of heart. But Ivy remembers the hush that followed. The grownups' quiet tension. Her uncle Jasper never spoke of that day. Not once.

The only thing Ivy had left of her mother was a locket: a smooth silver oval, simple but elegant, with a tiny painted likeness of Margery inside. On the opposite half, there had always been a space—as if someone else had once belonged there, someone long since removed. Ivy never questioned it. Not until the locket was stolen.

It vanished one night without a sound—taken by the river spirits, those laughing, taunting things that now prowl the currents like jackals in reeds. She heard their laughter that night. Heard the chain snap. And in the days that followed, the mill's water began to show her things.

Visions in the Water

At first, it was only flickers—reflections of her mother, standing at the riverbank in the soft light of early spring. Ivy thought it a dream. But then the image shifted, warped by ripples, and another figure stood beside her: Gregor Vane, the nobleman, young then, handsome and smiling, his hand brushing Margery’s arm.

Other visions followed. Her mother laughing, a softness in her expression Ivy never remembered. Gregor whispering something in her ear. A kiss on the knuckle. Then a flash of something darker—Margery alone, eyes wide, staring into black water. A thorned silhouette behind her, laughing.

The river shows these scenes at random, in moonlight or in storm, sometimes only for a heartbeat. But Ivy cannot forget them. She begins to wonder what her mother was hiding. And more deeply, who her father really is.

Tamsin and the Sight

Only one person Ivy trusts with what she sees: Tamsin Holloway, her cousin.

Tamsin is strange in the way that the forest is strange—quiet, perceptive, with a gaze that sometimes drifts into other places. The Sight runs in her blood, though the family never speaks of it directly. She has seen things others miss: flickers of spirits in candle flames, whispers in the branches.

Tamsin listens. She doesn’t dismiss the visions. She believes Ivy. She helps her draw protective runes in charcoal behind the mill’s shutters. She leaves dried marigold and mugwort beneath Ivy’s pillow. She watches the river, long and silent, with her fists clenched at her sides.

“It’s not just showing you things,” she tells Ivy once.
“It’s trying to make you question everything. Trying to take something from you.”

But Ivy already feels it slipping—the certainty of her name, her blood, her place in the village.

Unspoken Truths

Jasper Holloway, Ivy’s uncle and Margery’s brother, does not speak of the past—not because he knows the truth, but because he cannot face it.

There are things he might suspect, buried deep beneath years of silence and guilt. He remembers the way Margery and Gregor Vane laughed together, how their conversations lingered too long. There were rumors, faint and thorny, of flirtation—but he never believed his sister would betray him. He still doesn’t. And he has never once questioned that Ivy is his daughter.

But the night Margery died—the night she vanished into the river—Jasper blames himself.

It was the spring dance, a year after Ivy’s birth. The village green was strung with lanterns, the mead flowed too freely, and the music played late into the night. Jasper had drunk more than he should. When he saw Margery dancing with Gregor, laughing, something in him snapped. He yelled—not at Gregor, but at Margery. Accused her of things he didn’t fully mean. Words were said, too loud and too sharp, and Margery fled into the night in tears.

A few village children later said they saw her standing in the reeds by the mill, weeping in the moonlight. That was the last anyone saw of her alive.

Now Jasper carries that memory like a stone in his chest. He doesn’t speak of it. He won’t. He refuses to believe in curses, in spirits, in whatever Ivy sees in the water. Because to believe that would mean believing he played a part in it.

And so he sharpens his tools in silence, and when the mill groans at night, he pretends he hears nothing at all.

The Sparks of Nalia

Though Nalia is bound beneath the water, her spirit is not wholly silent. Here and there, fragments slip past the chains Damos has wrought—sparks of her old self, bright motes of mist and light that drift through the reeds, ride on the river wind, or cling to the edges of puddles after rain.

To most, they are no more than tricks of the eye—dancing motes of pollen, a shimmer on the water, a flicker in the fog. But Tamsin Holloway sees them. And worse, she hears them.

They do not speak plainly.
They sing in riddles, soft as river wind in tall grass, melancholy poems woven with truths, warnings, and memories half-faded by time and sorrow. Their voices are layered, feminine and echoing, full of the river’s music and weeping all at once.

How They Appear to Tamsin

On cold mornings, Tamsin wakes to see one hovering outside her window, spinning slowly like a drop of moonlight. It sings a riddle that sounds like it’s meant for Ivy:

“Two faces, one chain, a locket undone.
The river remembers what the blood has shunned.”

While walking by the mill, one spark hovers over the waterwheel’s turning shaft, pulsing softly with pale blue light. It whispers:

“Beneath where she wept, the thorn took hold.
A dance, a name, a promise unrolled.”

In the woods near the Greenwood Reach, she once saw three sparks drift in a circle before vanishing into a rotted tree knot. One whispered:

“Follow the stillness where the reeds do not sway.
There sleeps the heart of yesterday.”

One night, in a feverish dream, a spark sat upon her shoulder like a lantern. It sang not to her, but through her, in a voice she could not stop:

“I am not gone, I am woven in flow—
The current forgets, but the deep still knows.”

What Tamsin Feels

When the sparks appear, Tamsin often feels a pressure in her chest, like a held breath that isn't hers. Her sight blurs at the edges, and the world turns quieter, as if listening with her.

After each encounter, she’s exhausted, her fingers cold, her head aching. But she writes the riddles down. Carefully. Always in the same red-bound book. She doesn’t know what they mean—not yet—but she’s certain they matter. That Nalia is trying to reach someone, or warn them. Perhaps Ivy. Perhaps herself.

Perhaps anyone who will listen.

Whispers from the Sparks (via Tamsin’s Sight)

1. The Weeping Root

“Where the willows drink and the reeds do not sway,
A stone lies weeping in a bed of clay.”

Tamsin saw this spark floating through mist over the riverbank near the mirror pond. It sang the line three times before vanishing into the water. The clue refers to the pond where Nalia is bound, where no wind stirs the reeds, and a black crystal lies buried beneath the silt.

2. The Thorn’s Laugh

“A crown of teeth and bramble thorn,
Twined by hands no longer warm.
He waits with laughter carved in bone,
Where the ripple sings alone.”

This refers to Damos and his relic—the thorned wreath he used to imprison Nalia. The phrase “laughter carved in bone” may hint at the satyr’s lair, possibly marked with skeletal trophies and natural glyphs twisted by corruption.

3. The Locket’s Mirror

“One half holds her name, the other her truth.
Beneath the moon, the mirror breaks,
And shows what the father never knew.”

This refers to Ivy’s locket, which holds not just memory but a hidden secret—perhaps magical, emotional, or symbolic. It may require a moonlit ritual, or perhaps be brought to a certain place—like the pond—to reveal the truth about Margery and Gregor Vane.

4. The River Remembers

“The water forgets the wound it delivers,
But not the song it drowned.”

This is a painful reminder of Margery’s death. The spirits still remember her final cries, muffled beneath reeds and current. Mira believes this may mean some echo of Margery’s spirit lingers, tangled with Nalia’s sorrow.

5. Three Must Bear the Memory

“A witch of green, a watcher old,
A girl whose blood was never told—
Together bind the breaking thread,
Or silence drowns the song instead.”

Tamsin heard this whispered in a dream, her fingers wet with dew when she woke. Mira believes it means herself, Old Man Cedric, and Ivy, each bearing a piece of the puzzle needed to free Nalia—or prevent her from being lost forever.

The Thorned Bride

Tamsin wakes weeping, saying she dreamt of a woman with silver hair wearing a veil of vines and thorns, standing waist-deep in still water. When Tamsin asked her name, the woman’s mouth filled with water.

Mira interprets it as a spirit trying to speak through her — but silenced.
Cedric calls it “a sign of binding — or betrayal.”

The Stone Bleeds

After another collapse, Tamsin draws a circle in the dirt, then carves a jagged line down it and whispers, “The mirror cracked when the three struck true. Now it weeps.”
Mira believes this refers to the Reflection Stone and the three colluders. If taken there, Tamsin may enter a trance that reveals fragments of what was done.

Mira Ashford’s Insight

Mira has seen strange changes in certain herbs near the river—silverleaf that grows in a spiral, and water fennel with blue-veined stalks. She once read of a ritual that reveals truth when performed near water using such herbs, possibly tied to unbinding forgotten spirits.

She does not know if it can work.
But she suspects Nalia is trying to teach them, little by little.

CLUES FROM MIRA’S BOOKS

Mira’s library, such as it is, includes faded collections of herb-lore and spirit-studies. One old tome, partially annotated in Mira’s younger hand, includes the following:

“River-spirits cannot be slain — only bound, or lost.”
“When water forgets its song, bind the ash to root and stone.”
“A satyr’s laughter is harmless unless made hollow.”

A loose note tucked between the pages reads:

“Ask Nanette if the old charm of dusk-threads still works for river-wards. Should never have shared that lore with Iona.”

Old Man Cedric’s Wisdom

Cedric does not see the sparks, but he feels them. He says the river hums differently now—a sorrow chord instead of a melody. He remembers the old stories of Nalia, and says her kind “do not die the way we do—they become story, or shadow, or song.”

He’s seen carvings in an old riverside stone, worn to near illegibility, and speaks of an ancient rite called “the Calling of the Reflection”, which might allow the bound spirit to speak—if only briefly.

But he warns:

“If you call to the river, be sure you mean to listen.
It may not sing back what you want to hear.”

He knows a satyr alone shouldn't have had the strength to bind a spirit like the Lady.

He suspects someone or something helped Damos — but has no proof, only unease.

His words might be:

"A trickster he may have been... but not so mighty. Not without mortal hands stirring the pot."

LEGENDARY CLUES & HISTORIC SIGNS

The Dance of Red Reeds –
A local legend claims that "when the reeds at the edge of the river bleed red and sway without wind, a spirit walks weeping." It’s mostly told to children to keep them away from dangerous bends of the river. However, older villagers say this only began after Margery Holloway’s death, and some remember a similar pattern of red reeds the night before the first drought after the Lady vanished.

The Year of the Drowned Sheep –
Roughly thirty years ago, five sheep from different farmsteads were found drowned and bloated in the river on the same night. No footprints near the banks. No damage on the fences. Just floating bodies and water filled with ash. Superstitious elders said the river had grown “hungry.”

The Mist-Wedding –
A faded entry in an old almanac at the millhouse chapel records “a union of river and thorn” witnessed by a drunken farmhand, who claimed to have seen a nymph and a shadowed beast locked in a lover’s dance on the surface of the river. Everyone laughed him off, but he vanished a year later, and his widow claimed he’d taken to visiting the river at night, “trying to find her again.”

RUMORS — TRUE, FALSE, OR TWISTED

“They say the Lady cursed the Wren farm.”
Not quite. The crops were touched by the poisoned waters after Aidan Wren spread the ash. The blame belongs not to Naila, but to the act that weakened her.
“Old Cedric once danced with the river lady.”
False — but he did witness her once in his youth and never speaks of it. His silence is why the rumor lives.
“The blacksmith refuses to let his children near the river after dark.”
True. One of his nephews vanished fishing there years ago, and Ronan Thatcher has sworn never to speak of what he found in the boy’s empty boat.
“There’s gold hidden under the Reflection Stone.”
Entirely false, but some young lads have tried to dig under it. One never came back. The others don’t speak of what they saw when they struck the earth.
“Damos is a prince of the fey, exiled and mad.”
Not true — but he has been touched by something greater than himself: the whispering entity, which twists beauty into ruin.
“Sometimes the river runs backward before someone dies.”
Sometimes true. Just before the drowning of Margery Holloway, multiple villagers noticed the flow at the mill reversing for less than a minute.

Echoes Beneath the River

A Quest Arc of Mystery, Betrayal, and Reconciliation

Theme:

Freedom vs. Vengeance, Guilt vs. Truth, Corruption vs. Renewal

PHASE I: THE WHISPERING WATER

“Something’s wrong with the river.”

Tone & Intent:

Set the atmosphere of creeping dread and gradual corruption, without revealing the full threat.
Create emotional stakes — make players care about the people and the land before they understand what's truly happening.

By the end of Phase 1:

Players should feel uneasy but unsure — knowing something has gone wrong but not yet understanding how deeply.
The villagers themselves are split between suspicion, fear, and denial.
Several quiet story threads have been seeded that players can choose to follow.

Key Events & Encounters

Below is a mix of vignettes, events, and NPC reactions. These can happen in any order and may serve as clues, foreshadowing, or even early challenges:

The Boy in the Water

Scene Description:

It is a rare warm afternoon in the Vale.

A single raven circles overhead three times, caws once, and flies back toward the forest.

Villagers murmur old sayings:

"Three turns of the raven, one death to follow."

A handful of villagers—mostly younger lads and girls—have gathered near the river upstream from Holloway Mill, casting simple lines or stretching nets between the riverbanks. The players happen to be nearby—perhaps passing through on an errand, trading goods, or visiting someone.

Suddenly, a sharp cry splits the air.

A violent splash — deeper and heavier than a leaping fish.
Shouts — panicked, frantic.
The gurgled scream of a boy, cut off mid-breath.

Tommy Wren, a boy of about eleven, has wandered too close to the river’s deeper channel where the nets are strung. Somehow, the net snagged him unnaturally around his arms and legs—and now he’s being dragged under, as though caught in something far stronger than any current.

The river churns oddly around him — the water twists in spirals, dark shapes flitting just beneath the surface.

Around the mill wheel downstream, the river’s surface bubbles, though no one works it at the moment.

Player Opportunity:

Players are faced with an urgent situation:

They can rush to rescue Tommy — by jumping into the river, throwing a rope, cutting the net, or using tools at hand.
The water resists their efforts unnaturally: it pulls and tugs against those who try to intervene.

There should be a meaningful challenge:

Quick thinking, speed, and cleverness can help.
Each moment they hesitate increases the boy’s danger and the water's aggression.

If they delay too long, the boy could drown or be dragged downstream into deeper, more dangerous waters.

Subtle Clues Embedded:

For observant or suspicious players:

The current does not match the usual river flow. It pulls crosswise instead of downstream.
The dark shapes moving in the water seem almost playful at first — before coiling like predators around the boy.
Faint whispers or giggles rise from the river’s surface — not the laughter of children, but something colder, crueler.
Where the river bends near the mill, the churning grows worse — as if the mill itself anchors or attracts the disturbance.

Impact on the Story:

Emotional hook: Players now see firsthand that real, personal danger exists.
Community perception: If the players save Tommy, they become known as protectors. If they fail, whispers of fear and blame spread.
Narrative Focus:
Draws attention to the mill and the river’s corruption early on.
Establishes that the danger is intelligent — not random natural disasters.

Optional Outcome Variations:

Outcome	Effect
Players save Tommy quickly	They earn gratitude. Later, Tommy can whisper fearful memories: "I saw a thorn-crowned man in the deep..."
Players are slow or fail	Grief darkens the village. Rumors of witchcraft and curses spread, and villagers grow mistrustful.
Players investigate the site	They may find a scrap of blackened, corrupted net, clinging with riverweed that smells faintly of iron and rot.

Atmospheric Notes:

Sights:
River mist thickens during the rescue. The water seems too dark, too cold even in the warm air.
Sounds:
Strange humming and occasional sharp snaps, like reeds being pulled under tension.
Smells:
A sour, iron-tinged smell beneath the normal clean scent of river water.

The River Mirror & Tamsin’s Trance

Location: Early morning along the main river path behind Mira Ashford’s home.
Atmosphere: Mist hangs low, the water is still—eerily so.

It’s early evening. A low mist clings to the rooftops, and the last light fades behind the dense wall of the Gloomwood.

Through the heart of Ravenshollow winds the village river — normally a lively presence, babbling and swirling gently around the stone bridge and the riverside cottages.

Tonight, though, the river is silent.

Dead silent.

The water has gone completely still, like polished black glass, the reflections too sharp, too perfect.
Not even a ripple moves where the river usually churns around rocks.
No birds sing.
Even the ever-present calls of crows and ravens are strangely absent.

A few villagers have gathered along the banks, murmuring uneasily, pointing across the water.

At the river's edge stands Tamsin Holloway, her bare feet half-submerged in the strangely still current.
Her eyes are wide and glassy, staring into the reflection, unmoving, as if entranced.

The Vision:

As players draw near:

They realize Tamsin is unresponsive, her breathing shallow and slow.
Her lips move in a faint, eerie whisper:

"The sparks are lost... the river's breath stolen... they dance, but their song is broken..."
"So few now... they cannot mend the storm..."

If the players watch the water:

They glimpse tiny silver motes, like glowing dust, slowly spiraling under the surface.
Around the motes, thin tendrils of black mist weave — smothering, swallowing.

The longer they linger:

The reflection in the water grows darker, almost seeming to pull at their own faces, distorting them with fleeting, twisted images.

Player Opportunity:

The players may:

Try to pull Tamsin away from the water — gently or forcefully.
Attempt to break her trance by speaking, singing, or performing small rites (if anyone knows old forest charms).
Observe longer — risking something noticing them watching back.

Tension rises the longer they stay:

Tamsin might begin walking forward into the river, eyes vacant.
Shadows might seem to stretch across the water’s surface, reaching.
Tamsin whispers “The song’s been severed. And still she waits, humming through thorn and chain.”

Impact on the Story:

Introduces the idea that the river is no longer a natural thing, but a battleground between fading life and rising corruption.
Establishes Tamsin’s Sight as real — she can glimpse the war invisible to others.
Sets an eerie, tangible shift in the villagers’ perception of the river: once life-giving, now something to fear.

Optional Outcome Variations:

Outcome	Effect
Players free Tamsin quickly and carefully	She comes to, tearfully describing the "sparks" and "the net of thorns beneath the water."
Players hesitate or fail	Tamsin stumbles into the river briefly, emerging shaken and ill, haunted by what she saw. Her Sight might become even more fragile.
Players watch too long	They experience brief hallucinations — seeing drowned faces or hearing faint calls for help from beneath the water.

Atmospheric Notes:

Sights:
Faces in the river that look like your own — but subtly wrong.
Sounds:
The distant creak of wood — though no boats or wheels turn — and faint, whispery laughter.
Smells:
Damp, stagnant air, tinged faintly with the iron scent of river-mud and something floral rotting.

Additional Flavor:

Villagers Whispering:

"It’s the witches again..."
"The river's cursed, sure as winter follows fall..."
"Mark me — the mill’s gone foul, just like the old tales say."

She later remembers nothing but is drawn to return.

Visit from the Wrens

The market day in Ravenshollow has always been a modest affair: apples laid out on linen cloths, honey jars catching the sunlight, handmade goods changing hands quietly under the towering presence of the Gloomwood's trees.

But today, the market is nervous.

Fewer stalls than usual.
Villagers glancing over their shoulders toward the river or the forest’s looming edge.
The smell of rain on dry earth—though the sky is clear—makes everything feel charged.

Among the modest bustle, Catherine Wren stands beside a sturdy cart, her hands folded tightly in front of her apron. Mara Wren, tall and spirited for her age, leans against the wheel, absently carving a bit of wood with a small knife.

Their goods are good — too good to ignore:
Honey gleaming like captured sunlight, apples so ripe they almost burst, and cider cool and sharp in earthenware jugs.

Yet few villagers approach, wary of strangers, wary of change.

When the players pass by (or are pointed toward them):

Catherine beckons them over with a small, tight smile.
She explains plainly:

"We can sell well enough, but it's the road home we fear. Some... signs in the woods. Wolf tracks — too large for comfort. And something worse."
"The dogs won’t stray from the barns at night anymore. And old Tomlin, our sheepdog, growls at the trees..."
"We could use an escort back to Wrenwood. Or at least some sharp eyes alongside ours."

She offers a modest payment: cider, apples, a jar of golden honey — and genuine gratitude.

Mara, meanwhile, watches the players with the restless suspicion of someone too smart for her own good.
If approached, she mutters:

"The forest's changed. It's not just wolves out there anymore. I hear them in the fog. Not growls. Words."

"The Spilled Cider"

As the market day continues and players interact with Catherine and Mara Wren, the soft drone of village life hums in the background: bartering, quiet greetings, the creak of cart wheels.

Then — a sharp cracking sound.

A large cider barrel, stacked carefully near another merchant’s cart, suddenly splits and tips, without anyone touching it.
Golden cider spills out across the cobblestones like a spreading stain — glinting unnaturally in the failing light, like molten gold... or blood.

For a moment, everyone falls silent.

The scent of cider floods the air — sweet, sharp, almost sickly.
Some villagers make quick warding gestures against evil.
Others stare nervously toward the river — as if expecting to see something rise from it.

The golden liquid turns dark where it puddles, staining the stones. The low, buzzing hum of flies grows steadily louder as the spill spreads. Overripe sweetness, fermenting already in the heavy air — cloying and unpleasant

Players may:

Investigate the barrel — but will find no signs of sabotage or weakness. The wood seems strong, the iron bands intact.
It’s as if it burst from within.
Listen to villagers whispering:
Some murmur about "the witches’ curses", others blame Father Lucian’s warnings not being heeded.
Notice that flies flock unnaturally fast to the cider spill, buzzing in an oddly rhythmic hum.

Subtle Clues Embedded:

Foreshadowing: This minor, seemingly natural event feels wrong on an instinctual level — something mundane breaking in an impossible way.
Atmosphere: Gathers attention, creates fear without explanation, pushes the players emotionally.
Symbolism: Cider, a product of harvest and life, spilling uncontrolled across the ground — life spoiled.

As the villagers clean up, a raven calls again from the rooftops — twice this time.

Someone mutters:

"Three calls, three days, three deaths."

And glances nervously toward the woods.

Player Opportunity:

The players may:

Accept the escort request immediately (building early trust with the Wrens and setting up future ties to Wrenwood Farm events).
Negotiate (which could reveal more about how desperate the Wrens truly are).
Refuse (villagers will quietly note their selfishness later).

During the journey back toward Wrenwood (this will happen later if accepted), there will be further encounters, but that's a Phase 2 or 3 scene.

Subtle Clues Embedded:

The forest is actively changing: creatures that should fear humans no longer do.
The road is becoming dangerous even by day — foreshadowing the coming loss of safe travel.
Mara’s comment about "words in the fog" hints at intelligent, malevolent forces creeping closer to the village.

Impact on the Story:

Reinforces that ordinary villagers are becoming afraid — not just the elders or the superstitious.
Creates a natural connection to Wrenwood Farm, where future events (like odd happenings with crops, animals, or signs of the Gloom) can tie into Phase 2.
Allows players early moral agency: helping without obvious reward.

Atmospheric Notes:

Sights:
Apples so shiny they seem too perfect. Honey so thick and golden it almost looks unnatural in the sun.
Sounds:
The faint crunch of wheels on gravel, nervous murmuring of traders, the high-pitched whinny of horses spooked by something unseen.
Smells:
Sweetness from the apples mixed with the underlying musty, sour tang of damp earth.

"The Hunter's Warning"

This encounter can be modified to fit almost anywhere. At the Inn over a mead, chance encounter, Chatting while waiting for the fletcher or the blacksmith to perform a service.

Scene Description:

Late afternoon, a thin, cold mist curls along the edges of the Gloomwood.
The road from Huntsmen's Row back to the village is usually busy with hunters, trappers, and traders — rough folk with sharp eyes and sharper knives.

Today, there’s an uneasiness even among them.

As the players move through the square or the village outskirts, they cross paths with Osric Thornfield — one of the better-respected farmers and hunters — or another seasoned woodsman from Huntsmen’s Row.
(Alternatively, if players seek supplies or news from Huntsmen’s Row, this encounter finds them.)

The man — weathered, serious — carries his bow unstrung and a look of deep unease.

He flags the players down, almost gruff in his urgency:

"Something's wrong in the woods. It's not just wolves or bears anymore."
"Tracks that start and end in the same place. Birdsong that runs backwards. Shadows that follow you against the sun."
"If you're smart, you stay out of the deep woods. Especially by the river."

He hesitates, then spits on the ground:

"I've seen the river turn on itself. Nets ripped to shreds by nothing. Waters still and black like a dead man's eye."
"And last night — no sound at all. No owls, no foxes, no crickets. Nothing."
"Forest goes that quiet, something's hunting that's bigger than you or me."

He offers a word of advice:

Stay near fires at night.
Stay away from still waters.
Don’t follow any voices you hear after dark.

Player Opportunity:

Players may:

Question him more closely about what he saw — he’ll reveal that some of the deeper game trails have gone twisted, where trees seem to "lean away" from invisible pressure.
Dismiss him (which will have minor effects later; hunters will view them as foolish).
Take it seriously, earning minor respect among the hunters for heeding warnings.

If pressed hard:

He’ll mutter darkly about "rivers that don’t flow right" and "the dance of thorns", but refuses to elaborate without real trust.

Subtle Clues Embedded:

The river is no longer just a corrupted place — it’s active, changing the environment itself.
The backward bird calls and twisting trails hint at illusions, dream traps — building into the journey illusions in Phase 4.
Stillness = danger is now an embedded theme for the players.

The Shadowed Mill

NPCs: Jasper Holloway, Ivy Holloway.
Hook: “Mill wheel’s jammed again. And I’ll be damned if I’m crawling in the muck alone.”

The Holloway Mill has always been a steady, dependable presence — the rumble of the waterwheel a familiar sound even on the stillest nights.

Tonight, though, as dusk bleeds into darkness:

The wheel creaks loudly against the river’s slowed current.
The lights inside the mill gutter strangely, flickering greenish-white at odd intervals.
And above it all: a low, keening sound, as if something caught between a sob and a whistle rides the river’s breeze.

Players passing near the mill (or sent there by villagers) will see:

A strange flickering shadow moving across the mill’s upper floor.
Distorted reflections in the sluggish water — the mill reflected in impossible angles, as if the river mirrors another, broken world.

Player Opportunity:

Investigate quietly:
They might glimpse fleeting images: shadowy figures mock-working the wheel, laughing soundlessly.
Speak to Jasper Holloway or Ivy Holloway:
If players ask around, Jasper gruffly admits the mill has "gone wrong" at night, though he refuses to name spirits outright.
Ivy, if approached kindly, hesitantly describes "seeing her mother’s face" smiling and crying at once in the river’s reflection.
Follow the Sound:
Tracking the keening leads them to the river, but as soon as they step close, it vanishes — like being swallowed by stillness.

Clues Embedded:

The river spirits, under Damos’s sway, are mocking life, playing roles they barely understand.
Naila’s agony bleeds through as haunting reflections and corrupted images.
The slow collapse of daily life (the mill breaking) foreshadows larger disasters to come.

Woven Threads

Location: Village square, sewing shop, or Hollow Hearth Inn.
NPCs: Villagers wearing Iona’s recent cloaks or shawls.

Scene Description:

The next day (or later that week), a curious little event stirs up the villagers.

Tilda Harrow, a modest spinner’s wife known for her beautiful shawls, shows up at the market wearing a stunning new wrap — finer than anything usually seen in Ravenshollow.

It shimmers strangely in the light, woven with threads of dark emerald green and river-silver blue.
Several villagers murmur admiration — and envy.

But there’s something off:

Tilda looks exhausted, her hands trembling slightly as she speaks.
Her voice falters, as if forgetting words she’s spoken a thousand times.
Her husband quietly frets that she "hasn’t been herself lately" — snapping at friends, forgetting recipes, weeping for no cause.

If players question her or observe:

She will proudly say the shawl came from Iona Briar, who "got her hands on some marvelous new thread, very rare."
If pressed hard, Tilda will become confused and defensive, claiming it’s "just a lovely gift" and that she must be tired from the harvest season.

If players look closely at the shawl:

If touched, the fabric feels cold and leaves a faint tingling numbness on the fingertips.

Player Opportunity:

Investigate the shawl quietly (potentially sensing the wrongness).
Speak to other villagers who’ve bought items from Iona recently — noticing small patterns of deterioration: forgetfulness, bad luck, depression.
Confront Iona (not recommended yet) — she will play innocent, claiming she "only wove what the thread allowed" and had no idea there could be side effects.

Clues Embedded:

Direct but subtle hint at Iona's corruption and her dark weaving.
Shows the spreading reach of hidden corruption into village life without yet naming it.
Foreshadows future player confrontation with Iona and her deeper ties to Isolde.

Optional Guidance NPCs

Mira Ashford

She notices the corrupted herbs and strange growths near the riverbanks. She begins collecting samples, noting that some plants have 'split leaves'—a sign of chaotic water spirits.

Tamsin confides in Mira—or the players—that she woke up with river water on her hands and a riddle stuck in her head:

“Three bound the current with ash and thread,
A blade-scarred stone where the truth was bled.”

She doesn't understand it. Mira grows concerned and begins consulting her old grimoire.

Old Man Cedric

He sits near the river and hums old songs fishing. If asked directly about the river, he’ll mutter:

“She used to sing with the reeds. Now the reeds are quiet. That’s how you know.”

Clues about the old rituals, location of the Reflection Stone, or whispers in the reeds. He might even sing the old river song.

Tells of a satyr once full of laughter, who made too many “deals in the dark.” Points to the pond. Warns: “Laughter echoes where silence should be.”

Summary

Non-linear structure: Players can approach different clues in any order.
Multiple paths forward: No single "correct" way into the next phase.
Subtle supernatural: Not overt horror yet—just off, unspoken, uncomfortable.
Ties to the next phase: Whether they focus on Ivy, the pond, Iona, or The Wren, the deeper story begins to unfold.

PHASE II: RIDDLES IN REEDS

"The river remembers what we forget."

Phase Goal:

Primary Objectives in Phase 2:

Learn about the River Spirit (Naila/"The Lady")
Discover the existence of the 3 colluders (Aidan, Iona, Jorin)
Understand that Naila is imprisoned, not destroyed
Identify Damos as the captor
Learn that the Reflectionstone could reveal deeper truths.

Tone & Theme:

Folkloric mystery
Lost memories and fragmented truths
Uncertainty of allegiances
Dreams, riddles, echoes

Core Threads to Uncover (Not necessarily in order)

Thread	What It Is	What It Reveals
Tamsin's Riddles	Spirit-whispers from sparks of Nalia	Fragments of the binding—who helped, and where it happened
The Three Colluders	Iona Briar, Garret Wren, Jorin Fell	Their roles in weakening Nalia
The Crystal Binding	Magical source holding Nalia	Hidden under a still pond, laced with runes
The Runestones	Physical anchors for the prison	Scattered near the pond—each is marked
The Reflection Stone	A place where water spirits can commune	Gateway to stronger messages—or to Nalia herself

KEY ENCOUNTERS, EVENTS & CLUES

These can be uncovered in any order and from various angles—through investigation, conversation, Sight, or intuition.

TAMSIN’S COLLAPSE

Stage 1: Building Whispers

Setting:
Over the course of a few days after the River Mirror incident, villagers begin whispering about Tamsin Holloway.

Some say she's been wandering the village green at dusk, barefoot, murmuring to herself.
Others say she’s been staring at the river for long stretches, unmoving, even in rain.
Children gossip that she’s seen “talking to the water” and “laughing at invisible friends.”

If players eavesdrop or question villagers:

The stories are inconsistent, contradictory — some claim Tamsin seems blissful, others say she looks haunted.
Mira Ashford has been visiting the Hollow Hearth Inn often, talking quietly with Lena Holloway, Tamsin’s mother.

Subtle Hints:

Tamsin has started wearing small charms — tiny stitched cloth pouches — Mira's attempt to protect her.
Some claim they hear soft singing from the riverbanks near Tamsin — songs in no known language.

Stage 2: The Collapse

When It Happens:
Late evening, during a busy market day, with villagers gathered along the main square.

Scene Description:

The wind turns sharply cold — not a chill of winter, but something wet, mossy, ancient.
The river, in the distance, gives a long, low, groaning sound, as if the water itself were grinding against stone.
Tamsin, carrying a basket of herbs for Mira, singing softly but wierdly using made up words, stops dead in the left side of the market square.

Actions:

She drops the basket, scattering herbs across the muddy stones.
Her head tilts back sharply, her eyes turning pale and glassy.
She screams once — a sound unlike anything human — more like the shuddering cry of a drowning woman.
Then she collapses to her knees, whispering:

"The silver lady weeps... the thorned fool laughs... the river sings of cages..."
"Free the dance... free the dance... free the dance..."

"The river cries... but deeper still, the earth screams..."

Rain starts to fall, sudden and cold, though no clouds had been visible a moment before.

Stage 3: Immediate Aftermath

Village Reaction:

The villagers freeze, horrified and superstitious.
Some make wards against evil, others rush to gather their children.
Father Lucian quickly steps forward, calling for prayers and muttering about "witchcraft" and "forest-cursed blood."
Mira Ashford pushes through the crowd and tends to Tamsin, calling for Old Man Cedric’s help.

Key Details:

Mira insists on taking Tamsin somewhere quiet (her own cottage) to recover, not back to the inn.
Mira glares sharply at anyone suggesting “a sermon of cleansing” — there’s a quiet power to her voice that silences Father Lucian briefly.
Mira may ask for help carrying Tamsin if the players offer — giving them an opportunity to talk briefly during the move.

Stage 4: Talking to Tamsin

Talking to Tamsin doesn't reveal to much. She clearly see things but has no control over her gifts

If players succeed in calming her afterward, she might (barely) recall a dream of “black roots, thick and reaching, deeper than the riverbed."

Tamsin, in a vision while gazing into the river, might say:

“He was thornless once. He wore laughter like wine on the breeze. But he pricked his heart chasing her light.”

Clues Available:

Tamsin’s Words:
Anyone who heard her muttering can recognize a pattern: "the silver lady" points to Naila, "the thorned fool" clearly Damos.
The River’s Reaction:
Players can notice the river's water rising slightly, running faster and darker after Tamsin's collapse — physical proof of a tie between her and the river.
Mira’s Hints:
If players speak gently with Mira afterward, she may reveal:

"Old river spirits... the Lady... they don’t die easily. They twist or they wait. And sometimes... sometimes they scream for help through any who can hear."

Mira can point to Old Man Cedric for lore and wisdom

Father Lucian’s Sermon (Optional):
That evening or next morning, he preaches fire and brimstone, blaming "witchcraft" for the river’s anger.
Players can learn that the village is beginning to fracture, suspicion rising.

How the Players Hear:

If not witnessed firsthand, villagers whisper about it at the Hollow Hearth Inn.
A young boy (Simon Woodward or Rowan Wren) may say:

“She was singing, but it wasn’t her voice. I think she heard the river.”

If the players speak to Mira, she’ll say:

“I don’t think it was illness. She was listening to something. Old.”

Mira lets them visit, but only if Cedric gives approval (if trust was built).
Tamsin may wake briefly and say something like:
“A braid. A black braid. Woven with ash and water. They wrapped her voice.”
If they press Cedric:

“She’s caught a spark. The spirit’s trying to speak, and she’s listening too well. We should all be so lucky. Or careful.”

Investigations:

CEDRIC

What Cedric Knows

He knows the river once had a spirit — Naila — often called "The Lady" among the older villagers.
He knows Damos by name, at least before the corruption — remembers him as a mischievous but not malevolent satyr.
He knows (dimly) that Damos's infatuation with Naila soured into bitterness.
He knows something terrible happened, binding the Lady beneath the river, but he doesn’t know every detail (he was not a direct witness).
Knows the world is sick beyond just the river.
He understands that Damos was not the first to fall, nor will he be the last.

Might say something like:

"The Lady was only one note in a darker song... a song that's still being sung."

He sees Naila's binding and Damos's madness as symptoms — not causes.

How Cedric Can Reveal It

He will not volunteer this easily. He keeps it guarded behind his normal persona of seeming forgetfulness.
Players must have earned his trust (through previous quests or morally sound actions).
If players bring evidence (Tamsin’s whispers, the river’s strange behavior, Mira’s hints), Cedric becomes grave and serious.
He might tell the tale like this, sitting by the fire, voice low:

"There was once a spirit in the river. She gave us rain in dry years, cool breezes in the dead of summer... They called her Lady, and she watched us well.
But the woods are not kind, even when they mean to be.
There was one who loved her... a fool, a jester of the wilds. Damos, they called him. Laughed more than he spoke. Until she would not love him back.
And laughter... turned to thorns.
He made a mistake he cannot unmake."

He will refuse to name any villagers involved unless absolutely pressed — he considers that beyond his right.

If deeply trusted (or if players are clever/persistent):
Cedric might hint at the need to cleanse the river and that "old magics, the river’s mirror, the Reflectionstone" were tied to the Lady’s presence.

If asked about Damos and are trusted, Cedric will recount an old folktale:

“There was once a spirit who played a flute of reed and thistle, who chased frogs for joy and turned leaves to gold for laughing children. Until he loved something too bright. Until he was refused. Until he drowned himself in her reflection.”

He might not name Damos, but this is unmistakably his tale.

MIRA ASHFORD

What Mira Knows

She knows of Damos but only as a spirit of mischief gone dark.
She knows vague tales of a Lady of the river, passed down from older witches, but more as a protective spirit than a name.
She knows that something — or someone — has angered the river spirits.
She suspects that the village’s recent misfortunes are not just natural decay, but a disruption of the old, hidden balances.
She knows strange ash poisoned parts of the riverbanks and fields near Wrenwood — and mentions Wren orchards being the first to sour.

How Mira Can Reveal It

She is easier to approach than Cedric but cautious about speaking openly, especially with strangers.
If players have helped her (for example, during Tamsin’s collapse), she is more willing to share.
Dialogue sample:

"The river is sick... poisoned by broken promises and by grief turned to rot.
There were always spirits — wild ones, playful ones, vengeful ones. But one among them... fell further.
They say he wore a crown of thorns and laughter as sharp as a hawk’s cry.
When the Lady vanished, the river changed.
Some say she sleeps. Some say she weeps."

Mira can suggest visiting the Reflectionstone or seeking old herbal charms connected to river lore.
If asked specifically about Damos:

"He was never evil. Not at first. Mischievous, troublesome... but not cruel. That changed... when he lost what he thought was his."

She believes that "the land itself is grieving," and that spirits like Damos were corrupted by the creeping darkness already in the forest.

She might describe it as:

"Something deeper... older... stirs in the soil, in the rain, in the bones of the trees. Damos was just... closer to the cracks."

She fears there are other spirits — possibly even greater ones — that have yet to fall fully.

Mira provides more tangible hints — environmental damage, the satyr’s corruption — and is naturally suspicious of Iona’s recent work if prompted.

NANETTE REDLEAF

What Nanette Knows

She knows much more than either Cedric or Mira — being far closer to the old ways and the deeper lore.
She knows the names — Naila and Damos.
She knows about the binding ritual, though she doesn't know the full details of who helped.
She knows riddles about the Reflectionstone, about the "thorns upon the river," and "the dance of silver chains."

How Nanette Can Reveal It

Nanette only speaks in riddles, metaphors, and half-lost songs.
She will never plainly tell players the facts. They must interpret her.
She speaks riddles about ash on the wind, threads of binding, and stones that drank the river's voice.
She may also drop cryptic references about the pond being a mirror, not a home

Example of Nanette’s speech:

"The river once danced in the moon’s kiss, and the willow sang her name.
But the jester with broken horns wove her laughter into chains.
Seek the mirror where no face is true, and ask the river what it hides.
Three thorns pierce her heart still... pluck them, and she may yet bleed free."

Players who succeed at piecing together Nanette’s riddles can realize:
The Reflectionstone holds visions.
Three "thorns" (the colluders) must be understood and dealt with.
The Lady (Naila) is not dead, only bound.

If players treat Nanette with disrespect (mock her riddles or try to coerce answers), she will retreat into nonsense or refuse to speak at all.

Through riddles and songs, she hints at a much older sorrow, one buried beneath the roots of the world.

She might sing:

"The river weeps, but the mountain grieves. The thorn bleeds, but the root rots."
"Chase the silver, mend the mirror... but beware the eye beneath the earth."

SUMMARY

Character	Knowledge Level	How It Must Be Unlocked
Cedric	Moderate but cautious.	Earned trust + evidence of knowledge.
Mira	Partial, emotional understanding.	Gentle approach + goodwill.
Nanette	Deep knowledge but only through riddles.	Respectful interpretation of her songs and sayings.

IONA BRIAR’S THREAD – Slow Reveal

Clues That Lead to Her

Players don’t uncover her through confrontation alone. Instead, subtle signs, community whispers, and linked symptoms lead them there:

The Victims’ Decline

Those who wear her weavings seem drawn, tired, and emotionally dimmed.
Some say they dream of drowning, of reeds tugging at them, or voices calling from water.

The Thread Itself

A piece of weaving from a villager (perhaps Elena or Ivy) shimmers faintly when held near the river.
It seems to hum or resist burning.
Mira Ashford, when shown the thread, looks troubled:

“That isn’t ordinary magic. That’s something else. Something bound... but not dead.”

Mathis Gravel’s Involvement

If players follow Mathis or investigate him, they discover a satchel of stolen trinkets—a ribbon, a silver comb, a small scarf—each tagged by name.
Mathis, if caught or bribed, confesses:

“She paid me to find items touched by the river. Women who walked its banks, drank from its springs. She said it would enhance the weaving.”

This implicates Iona without showing her true pact.

When confronted during Phase II, Iona admits just enough to seem honest and wronged, but carefully distances herself from the full truth.

Encounter with Iona

Setting: Her weaving room, late afternoon, soft light filtering through colored drapes.

When players confront her (gently or aggressively), she responds:

“Yes, I took the thread. Yes, I wove it. But Damos said it was for a rite to honor the river. He spoke of giving the spirit rest.”

“I know how it sounds. I wanted it to be beautiful. I still do. But I never meant harm.”

She offers cooperation—with limits.

She gives them a length of unused thread, still humming faintly.
She refuses to talk of Isolde or deeper weaves.
She insists she thought Damos was the true villain, and she was only a tool.

If players are aggressive:

She becomes indignant.
Denies all malice.
May even accuse Mira of planting the idea in her mind.

What She Will Admit:

“Yes, I worked with Damos. He said the thread came from the river, from an ancient fading spirit… I thought it was a gift—nothing dark. Just... powerful. He asked for a ceremonial binding. A one-time ritual braid. I didn’t know it would be used to hurt anyone.”

“If I’d known... I never would’ve touched it. You must believe that.”

She appears sincere, emotional, even weeps if pressed.
She’s convinced herself it wasn’t her fault. Or at least, she must convince others.

What She Does Not Admit:

That she saw images of a silver-haired figure weeping in water during the weaving.
That she recognized the essence as a powerful spirit.
That she believed it would make a perfect base for her long-gestating masterwork.
That she is still in contact with Isolde, drawing power from deeper corruption.

AIDAN WREN & THE ASH – Tangible Link

Clue Trail:

During a visit to Wrenwood Farm (Phase I or later), Mara Wren (daughter) may offhandedly say:

“Da never uses the old north pond anymore. Said it turned sour after he tried that ash mixture.”

If asked, Catherine Wren will confirm:

“Aidan tried to treat the pond a year back. Some powder a stranger gave him—said it would clear rot from the roots. Didn't work. Crops near it wilted, then the pond went still.”

Investigation:

Visiting the north pond shows:
Algae slicks in strange spiral patterns.
Sick frogs, twisted cattails.
In the mud: a broken clay pot, stained black.

Aidan’s Response:

Regretful but defensive:

“I thought it was healing ash. He said it would purify the roots. And she’d be grateful. The spirit, I mean. I didn’t know she’d— Damn it all.”

This makes Aidan’s part in the binding clear, but understandable. His guilt and ignorance make him sympathetic.

JORIN FELL – The Mercenary’s Involvement

Clue Trail 1: Stoneworker’s Testimony

An old stonemason (perhaps Dale or Old Tom from Fenrow farm) mentions:

“Saw one o’ them Black Talon dogs carving on stones in the woods. Odd symbols. Said it was for ‘navigation’. Didn’t look right to me.”

He describes Jorin Fell and where he was seen—near a glade pond north of the mill.

Clue Trail 2: Cracked Pendant

If players investigate Jorin’s gear (stealing or searching), they may find:
A pendant with the spiral rune, carved into bone or shell.
A faint burn mark on the back, like a lash of magic.
When confronted:

“I don’t draw lines between spirits and coin. It was just a job. Set stones, take payment. Thought it was for a ritual—knew it had to do with her. Damos promised it’d make the river flow cleaner. And I’m still waiting.”

LEAD TO THE REFLECTION STONE

Three Ways to Find It:

Tamsin’s Riddle (if her trust is earned):

“Where the river forgets the sun and speaks only in echoes.”

Old Man Cedric (if Phase I quest is completed well):

“There’s an old place, stone sunk in moss. Spirit shrine, long before Lucian’s gods. If she speaks anywhere still—it’s there.”

Spiritual Tracking (using Antler or Raven Charm):
Using the antler or raven from “The Sparrow’s Thread” quest can guide them to the stone.

THE REFLECTION STONE – CONFIRMATION

Once found, the Reflection Stone acts as a visionary focus. When the players place water, a charm, or a purifying token (silver, bone, wild herbs), they witness:

Nalia beneath the surface, weeping without sound, arms bound in silver thread, a crystal tether around her waist.

Spoken Riddle:

“One burned my blood, one bound my breath, one broke the flow and sealed my death.”

The faces of Iona, Aidan, and Jorin appear briefly around her—followed by the mocking grin of Damos, laughing as he vanishes.

The Sight

If someone has the Sight they may get clues from the sparks themselvs though more short visions. Since they are not native they shold be very rough and inprecise.

The sparks may say in watery riddles:

“He was cruel, yes… but not always. His song is buried. To awaken it is to suffer with him.”

How to Learn About Damos

Legends, Clues, and Lore

Over the course of Phases I, II and III, players can uncover hints through NPCs, ritual fragments, or spirit whispers. These will suggest that Damos is not entirely lost, and that he may be reached—but only under specific conditions.

Optional Discoveries

Mira’s Grimoire may contain a binding reversal ritual, missing only one component (perhaps a silver token freely given).
A wisp or spark may begin to follow a player with the Sight (like Tamsin or those who’ve bathed in uncorrupted water).
A villager (perhaps Ivy) may recall strange dreams of her mother speaking to someone by the pond—a memory of the night Margery died.

Leads Into Phase III

From here, players should:

Know that Nalia was bound intentionally.
Understand that Damos orchestrated it, but others helped him.
Know where it happened—and where the binding crystal still rests.
Begin to debate: Free her? Warn the village? Confront the colluders?

Summary: Phase II in Motion

Route	Outcome
Trust Tamsin & Cedric	Access to the Reflection Stone, early truths
Investigate cloth & threads	Lead to Iona’s part in the binding
Explore Wrenwood	Reveal Garret’s guilt and poisoned earth
Track Jorin	Discover the runestones and binding ritual
Collect verses & riddles	Piece together the true story of Nalia’s imprisonment

Phase III: The Gathering

Awareness of the Paths

The players won’t be told “here are three endings,” but instead they’ll receive fragmented knowledge from various sources. As they gather components, clues, and intentions, they will start to realize the ritual will reflect not just what they do, but why and how they do it.

Think of the three paths as expressions of intent channeled through action and sacrifice.

The Freeing

The Four Charms of the River Rite

To perform the ritual that will unbind Naila from the crystal and restore her to any of her three potential states (depending on player actions and sacrifices), a set of four ritual charms must be prepared—each woven with a rare, fairytale-like ingredient representing one of the four aspects of her being: Voice, Sight, Scent, and Thread.

These charms must be crafted by village artisans, but they’ll need help acquiring the strange, symbolic ingredients whispered about in old stories. Not all are truly magical on their own—but the act of fetching them, and the intent behind it, weaves the real magic.

However the first step is to figure out what is needed to begin with:

Cedric, the Elder

Role: Gatekeeper of Wisdom, Initiator of the Charm Path

“I’ve seen enough of old rituals to know this: when dealing with spirits, you don’t walk in empty-handed.”

Cedric knows from experience and old stories that charms are necessary—“tokens that mean something, to remind a spirit who they were.”
He does not know the full ritual, nor all ingredients, but he can sense the shape of things.
He instinctively believes that a charm tied to ravens and shadow is one of the keystones:

“Ravens carry memory. Shadow holds truth. One of those things might still reach her.”

He might send the players to Nanette or Mira Ashford for the rest, saying:

“If I’m the old bones, they’re the flesh and blood of the village’s wisdom.”

Mira Ashford

Role: Analyst, Rational Herbalist, Crafter of Charms

“This isn’t some child’s rhyme. If we’re going to reach her, we need focus, precision, and… maybe a little faith.”

Mira can identify and craft two of the charms: the Breath of the Swallow and the Whisper of the Spider.
She doesn't know the exact list at first, but if prompted (after Cedric’s warning, or finding a sign from Naila like a spark in the water), she’ll begin researching.

How She Learns the Required Charms:

She consults Nanette, though their ways differ.
A scene can be played where Mira brings a few old scrolls to Nanette’s garden. Nanette chants riddles and Mira translates them into actionable meaning.

Mira sighs, closing a worn book.
“She said: ‘Catch the web that sings, cradle the fur that dreams, bottle the songbird’s yawn, and follow the raven’s thought.’ Gods help me, I think I know what she meant.”

After this, she’ll tell the players:

“Four charms. Four fragments. Breath, whisper, shadow, and warmth. If you help me craft mine, and bring the rest to the right hands… it might work.”

Nanette Reedleaf

Role: Keeper of Forgotten Lore, Maker of the Woodland Hare Charm

“You can’t make her remember joy if you don’t carry some of your own.”

Nanette knows the full picture—perhaps even more than Mira—but speaks in riddles, rhyme, and reverie.
She will make the Scent of the Woodland Hare charm, but only if the players treat the hare’s resting place with respect.

How She Gives Clues:

She doesn't hand the list over. She rhymes them, one by one:

“Catch the morning in a bottle, stitch the hush in spider’s thread,
Let the fur remember comfort, and chase the wing that sun has fled.”

Mira is the only one who can properly interpret her verses, creating a collaborative puzzle for the players to navigate.
Nanette also may dream of Naila’s sparks, offering cryptic prophecies:

“She’s not drowning in water. She’s drowning in forgetting. Give her memory, but not your own… or she’ll wear you like a cloak.”

Scene: Moss & Memory – Mira and Nanette’s Riddle Exchange

Setting: The herb-draped garden behind Nanette’s ivy-choked cottage. Vines cling to old stones. Bees hum lazily. Mira kneels by a worn bench with several scrolls, while Nanette plucks dandelions and mutters to a sparrow on her shoulder. The players linger nearby, watching as Mira attempts to bring logic to lore.

If Mira is brought to Nanette the following scene can be witnessed, but it can also be retold.

Mira (with patient frustration):
“Nanette, please. Just tell me plainly. If we’re going to help the river spirit, we need specifics. Charms. Ingredients. I’ve read the old rites, but they’re incomplete.”

Nanette (grinning, tossing a dandelion into the breeze):
“Oh, specifics are like river frogs—slippery, loud, and gone when you reach for them.”
“But I remember a rhyme. My gran sang it while steeping moon-tea.”

She raises a bony finger and begins to chant:

“Catch the morning in a bottle, where the swallows twist and dart,
Hold the hush that spiders whisper, cradle silence in your heart.
Pluck the shadow from a raven, where it flies at twilight’s door,
Gather warmth from hollow burrows, where the hare returns no more.”

Mira (murmuring, half to herself as she writes in a book):
“Swallow’s breath… Spider’s whisper… A raven’s shadow… And warmth from the hare’s resting place. That’s it, isn’t it?”

Nanette (nodding dreamily):
“Four pieces to remind her what she is. But only if they’re given, not taken. The river doesn’t listen to thieves.”

Mira (to players, voice steady):
“We’ll need to craft each one with care. I can make two. You’ll need her” —(nods at Nanette)— “for the hare’s charm. And the shadow… someone close to the ravens must help you find that. Perhaps Cedric.”

Nanette (suddenly serious, looking up from her weeds):
“Be careful with the spider’s thread. It knows secrets. And it listens longer than it should.”

Outcome:

The players now have confirmation of the four ingredients, in poetic form, from a trusted source.
Mira can now guide the crafting of Breath of the Swallow and Whisper of the Spider, and direct the party to Nanette and Cedric for the others.
Nanette's tone implies that the items must be earned or respected to retain power—this gives the party multiple paths of approach, depending on how they handle each challenge.

1. The Breath of a Swallow

Setting: Mira’s home, the hearth burning low, filled with scent of drying herbs and damp bark. She’s kneeling at her worktable, weaving cord around bundles of charm materials.

“It’s not enough to want to help, you know. You have to speak the forest’s language. And sometimes, that means making things the old way.”

“I can make one charm. Maybe more, if time allows. But the pieces must be real. Not just items—acts. The breath of a swallow taken at dawn, the scent of a hare that’s never seen blood, the hush of a spider’s song—that’s not just for show. Each of those is a shape of truth. You’re giving the river spirit her name back, piece by piece.”

She glances at them, eyes narrowing.
“I can make the silk wrap if you bring me that breath. But if you cheat the charm… you’ll break her worse than she already is.”

“I remember my grandmother used to say: you can’t catch a lie in a swallow’s song. That’s why their breath can mend a broken voice.”

“I’ll need a silver-edged vial. I think Tobin the fletcher can make one if you ask kindly—and don’t insult his craftsmanship.”

“Bring it to me, sealed with song. If you do, I can wrap it in silk and lavender. It’ll hold the shape of speech for the ritual.”

Most people in the village know that:
“Swallows always roost near the old watchtower ruins. Sunrise paints the stone golden. That’s when they sing true.”

✧ To mend her voice, so she may sing once more.

What it means: Lightness, hope, and the memory of song.
What must be done: Catch the breath of a swallow at dawn as it sings its morning trill.
How to get it: A special glass vial crafted by Tobin Wells, the fletcher of Huntsmen’s Row.
Swallows nest near the ruined watchtower—players must climb quietly and wait with still hearts.
The vial must be opened and closed with the bird’s trill mid-song.
Charm Made By: Mira Ashford, bound in herb-wrapped silk. Smells faintly of thyme and lilac.

2. The Whisper of a Spider

Dialogue: Mira Ashford – On the Weaving of Charms

Setting: In her herb garden, under a canopy of drying herbs. The light filters through bundles of sage, mint, and hyssop. Mira’s hands are stained green with leaf dye.

“A whisper, now that’s harder. You can’t take it by hand. It must be heard and heard true.”

“Needleglint Grove—yes, I know it. That’s where the veil-weavers still spin. But their webs… they don’t just catch flies. They catch thoughts. If you go, you listen. You hear what they have to say. Don’t speak until it’s done.”

“Bring me a thread, just one. I’ll wrap it in shadow-thread and hang a sage bead at the end. It’ll hum when it’s ready.”

✧ To restore her silence to peace, not torment.

What it means: Secrets, stillness, the quiet thoughts that weave understanding.
What must be done: Find an ancient veil-weaver spider’s web on a foggy morning.
You must listen to its threads under moonlight until you can hear the whisper.
How to get it: Located in the Greenwood Edge, in a copse known as Needleglint Grove.
The grove is watched over by tiny forest spirits that challenge your intentions.
Charm Made By: Tamsin Holloway (if well enough) or Mira, woven into black thread with dew-beads.

Encounter: The Whisper of a Spider

Location: Needleglint Grove, a shadow-dense pocket within the Greenwood Edge, where dew forms even on clear nights and the trees hum softly at dusk.

Objective: Retrieve the whisper-thread of a veil-weaver spider, heard only in perfect stillness under the moonlight.

Setting the Scene:

As the players enter Needleglint Grove, the trees begin to thin, replaced by pale, sap-bleeding birches. The light here is diffused, as though memory clings to the mist. The grove is strangely quiet, save for the occasional drop of water falling on leaf or bark.

In the center is a low stone with silken webbing stretched over it like fine lace. Nestled in the crook of a branch just above is the veil-weaver spider, a delicate silver creature the size of a coin, its legs long and translucent.

Before the players can approach, a small forest spirit appears.

Spirit: Tattle-Whim

Form: A creature no taller than a toddler, with the face of a thistle and a body made of twigs and bark, glowing faintly green.
Voice: High-pitched, chattering like wind through nettles.
Personality: Mischievous, easily offended, deeply protective of the grove.

Tattle-Whim’s Test: Tattle-Whim steps forward and says:

“Tsk, tsk, not for you—not unless you hush, and hush true! The Spider sings only for those who do not ask. You want her whisper? Then give me silence… or something sweeter still.”

The spirit will test the players’ intentions, allowing one of three routes:

Option 1 – Stillness Trial

Players must sit in silence for three minutes of real time (or DM-narrated “one hour” of in-world time) while the spider spins.
If a player speaks, the web hums with static and the spider vanishes—they must return another night.

Option 2 – Gift Offering

Offer something the spirit deems fair. Tattle-Whim may accept:
A song sung in reverse (symbolizing unweaving).
A token of something lost (e.g., a lock of hair from a departed loved one).
A spider-shaped trinket made by the player.

Option 3 – Forest Riddle

Tattle-Whim asks:

“I walk on eight legs but do not walk far. I eat what you fear and dream in stars. Who am I?”

Answer: A spider

A correct response earns a nod, and Tattle-Whim plucks a single thread from the web, twirling it like a strand of music.

Outcome:

The thread is weightless, nearly invisible, and hums faintly when held to the ear. The players feel a presence coil through it—an ancient, silent patience.

3. The Shadow of a Raven’s Wing

Dialogue: Old Man Cedric – On the Raven’s Shadow

Setting: Outside his cottage in the evening, the wind stirring the trees and crows calling faintly in the distance. He sits by the fire, sipping tea, squinting at the players.

“Rituals… They’re not recipes. Not really. They’re mirrors. They show the world what you believe it to be.”
“Now that river spirit… she won’t come back for fire or fury. She needs remembering. And she needs releasing.”

He leans forward.
“You want her to move again, you need to give her what was taken. I remember the old stories. There’s a hill, out near the Fens. The Stone of Mourning. You go there at sunset, stand still with silver thread, and wait for the raven to mark you. Catch its shadow—not the bird, mind—but the part of it the sun fears. Fold it into leather. That’s the old way.”

He nods once.
“That shadow? It’s a promise. The freedom to fly, unseen. If you get it… she might just listen.”

✧ To give her back the right to move, unseen and unbound.

What it means: Mystery, movement, and the right to be free.
What must be done: Stand on the Stone of Mourning at sunset and wait for a raven to circle.
Catch its shadow using a ritual cloth embroidered with silver thread.
(Cedric may hint this is “how old wives once caught secrets in their cloaks.”)
Where to go: The stone lies near the edge of the Fens, on a hill sacred to the old gods.
Charm Made By: Old Cedric (if persuaded), tied into a knot of blackened wool, wrapped in waxed leather.

4. The Scent of a Woodland Hare

Dialogue – Nanette Reedleaf & the Scent of the Woodland Hare

Nanette (pressing a sachet of lavender into a jar):
“You can’t catch it with hands. Not even a charm net’ll do.”
“It’s not the fur you need. Nor droppings, nor bones, nor tracks.”
“It’s the hollow—the warmth they leave behind in sleep, in safety.”

She gestures toward the open hills with a crooked finger.

“You find a nest, untouched. Still warm. Take the moss and clover, ever so gently. Wrap it in birchbark and beeswax before the moon has climbed twice.”
“If the hare sees you, you’ve failed. If the nest is cold, you’re too late.”
“And if you harm the creature, the scent spoils. It’s not death the charm needs… it’s the memory of peace.”

Setting: Her round cottage, half-covered in ivy, roof stacked with drying herbs. Chickens dart in and out. A hare sits calmly on her front step.

Hints where to find hares, Pretty much anyone could give these tips

Catherine Wren (motherly, calm)

Spoken while trading cider in the village square
“Mara always sees hares in the orchard’s edge. Near the fallen elder tree. They don’t spook easy around her.”
“But don’t go crashing in like a dog in a duck pen. Step quiet, like a breeze through grass.”

Jonas Harker (gruff hunter)

Met near the sawmill or tavern, skinning a deer
“Hare nests? You’ll find ‘em near shallow roots where hawks don’t circle.”
“There’s a patch o’ long grass north of the old orchard. I leave it be. Superstition.”
“Some say a spirit lives there. I say: leave the burrows undisturbed unless you’ve got a damn good reason.”

Tobin Wells (fletcher, young and observant)

While working at his bench on Huntsmen’s Row
“Saw a pair of hares tussling last dusk. Funny little dance, bouncing over my arrow shafts.”
“They bed down east of the Greenwood Reach. Bit of clover field there, still untouched by the Gloom.”
“I can sketch it for you, if you bring back one of their tail tufts.” (he winks)

Nanette Again (after the players ask where to look)

“Seek where old trees lean and no iron has ever cut the grass. Where no one’s cried in sorrow, nor shouted in anger. That’s where the hares sleep.”
“And if you hum an old tune—one you don’t remember learning—they might let you close.”

When the players arrive back with the Scent:

Nanette peers from under her herb-draped doorway
“Oho! You’ve brought the breath of spring itself—hare’s warmth! Let me see, let me see…”
“Ah yes, moss and fur and moon-fleck… still has the heartbeat of dreaming in it. Perfect.”

If they mention Naila:

Nanette’s smile fades into softness. She sighs.
“I remember her. Silver hair like rain in sunlight. When I was a girl, I dropped a clay cup in the stream and cried. A little ripple shaped like a hand pushed it back to me.”
“She was the river’s laughter. If she’s chained now, then no one laughs.”

When they ask for the charm:

She takes the moss, gently brushing it with a feather. She crushes dried wild thyme and violet into it.
“This charm… it’s not made for war or warding. It’s for reminding a soul of grass and clover, and the way fur smells after a storm.”
“Come back in a turning. I’ll have it wrapped in birch and beeswax. Don’t let it near fire, or sorrow.”

Final Charm:

A hollowed twist of birchbark filled with warm moss, thyme, and hare fur. It smells of morning dew, young roots, and meadow sleep. When held close, it makes even the most anxious creature pause.

Aidan Wren’s warning to his daughter Mara:

“Hares don’t just hide from men. They hide from memory. You find one’s bed, don’t disturb it unless your hands are clean of violence.”

Elara Finch’s insight:

“They rest where no murder has happened. That’s what gives it weight.”

✧ To restore her memory of earth and growing things.

What it means: Innocence, rootedness, instinct.
What must be done: Find a hare's sleeping hollow before dawn, and collect the tufts of fur and earth it leaves behind.
Where to go: The hills near Wrenwood Farm. Aidan Wren knows their trails and may help—if he's spoken to about his guilt or if his daughter Mara offers her help.
Charm Made By: Elara Finch, steeped in rose oil and forest musk, bound in sage twine.

What Happens When All Four Are Gathered

Once all charms are crafted and brought to the ritual site (the pond, stone circle, or other sacred ground), they are placed at the cardinal points and set alight in a ritual of smoke, whisper, and silence.

Each charm calls to an aspect of Naila:

Her voice
Her silence
Her shadow
Her memory

Depending on how the players act, what sacrifices are made, and what truths are spoken, Naila returns in one of her three forms—each different, but bound forever to the shape of their choices.

Introduction to the Three Paths (Without Naming Them)

Path A — The Rage of the River (Wrathful Freedom)

Easiest to perform. Most obvious. Potentially catastrophic.

How players become aware:

Tamsin’s vision, early in Phase III:

“She thrashes in silence. She wants only to breathe, and to burn.”

Reflection Stone shows Naila’s screaming, clawing at the inside of the crystal.
Damos (if encountered) taunts:

“Let her go, if you dare. She’ll not thank you. But oh, how the river will run.”

What they’ll assume: Freeing her = ending the curse.
What they’ll learn: If freed without balance, Naila becomes a vengeful elemental.
Appeasement Option (Post-release):

Slay Damos in her name — she calms, but becomes Path B Naila.
Spare Damos but confront him deeply — if he chooses to sacrifice himself, she reaches Path C.

Path B — The Blood Price (Half-Reconciled Spirit)

Balanced, but still corrupted. Driven by justice, not peace.

How players become aware:

Cedric or Mira warn:

“She was betrayed. And betrayal festers. If she is to be calmed, she must be answered.”

The river spirits (especially if calmed or bargained with) whisper:

“A debt unpaid. Three names. One must fall.”

Tamsin, later in Phase III, mutters:

“A name carved in bark, a breath held too long, a life for the river’s silence…”

What they’ll assume: Exposing or sacrificing the guilty can help.
What they’ll learn: She’ll return partially corrupted, her essence darkened by the betrayal and how she was freed.

Mechanic:

If one or more colluders (Iona, Aidan, Jorin) are sacrificed, or if one is punished or bound during the ritual, she will take them and calm.
If the players kill Damos in her name, she transitions from Path A to Path B.

Path C — The Still Waters (True Restoration)

Most difficult. Requires selfless acts and healing.

How players become aware:

Rare Tamsin vision, after speaking to Mira and visiting the spring:

“The river drinks truth, not blood. She weeps for what they were, not what they did.”

Mira Ashford suggests a rare hope:

“There might be a way. If they come of their own will. If they give freely what they took.”

The spirits whisper (if befriended):

“The hands that broke her must mend her. Not with words. With pain. With loss.”

What they’ll assume: Healing Naila requires more than cleansing water.
What they’ll learn: Naila can forgive—but only if the ones who harmed her sacrifice willingly.

Mechanic:

Aidan, Jorin, and even Damos must each give something:
Aidan: a piece of land or his orchard tools—symbolic renunciation of greed.
Jorin: his blade or the stone he carved with—an act of laying down arms.
Damos: must willingly give up his corrupted artifact or even himself.
If Damos chooses to die in her place or to repair the chain, Path C unlocks even if Path A was begun.

Post-Ritual Shift Mechanic

Even if players stumble into Path A or B, they can shift outcomes if:

They act quickly after the ritual (within 1–2 in-game days).
They bring Damos to Naila and confront both.
They reopen the wound with a follow-up rite (perhaps with Tamsin’s aid).

This gives players a second chance, but it won’t be easy.

Phase 4 – “The Crystal Stillness”

IVES:

Discover the location of the pond where Naila is imprisoned.
Travel there and endure Damos’s trials.
Begin the ritual using the four crafted charms.
Lay groundwork for which ending path the players might follow (vengeance, appeasement, or redemption) in Phase 4.

1. Finding the Pond

The pond is hidden deep in the woods, veiled in illusion and corrupted misdirection, somewhere between the Gloomed forest and the river’s bend, where the flow halts unnaturally.

How the Players Find It:

A. Tamsin’s Sight (if she’s recovered enough)

While in a trance, she may mutter:

“She’s where the river forgets its song… where frogs hum backwards and the lilies don’t bloom.”

B. Mira’s Lore

Mira recalls stories of a “mirror-pond” once blessed by Naila but now silent.

“If we follow the river until it stills—and let the charms respond—we might find it. One spark always knows.”

C. Cedric’s Insight

If trusted, Cedric might hand the players a carved raven feather (not magical), saying:

“Go where the birds do not sing. And when you feel cold, even in sunlight—that’s where she waits.”

D. Using the Charms

The Scent of the Woodland Hare or the Raven Shadow charm may gently “pull” the players in the correct direction if held out and focused on.

The air grows still. Ravens begin to follow, silently, watching.

2. Journey Through the Veiled Path – Damos Interferes

As the party draws near the pond’s edge, they must pass through an enchanted glade, distorted by Damos’s influence. This is not the final showdown—but a deliberate torment.

Overview:

The players cross into a strange threshold once the correct path is found.
The forest changes: colors dull, sounds stretch, and even time feels fluid.
The charms may react strangely, glowing, pulsing, or tugging in different directions.

Encounter Type:

A sequence of illusion, temptation, and fear, not direct combat—Damos is testing and mocking them.

Encounter: The Hollow Path

"Not lost, but looping. Not forward, but wrong."

Setup:

As the party ventures deeper along the path toward Naila’s prison, something begins to feel… off. At first, it's just a familiar tree with an eye-shaped knot. Then again. And again.

With each pass:

The light filtering through the canopy never seems to change.
The same flock of birds chirp the same melody—but closer listening reveals that the song is backwards, subtly off.
A half-eaten carcass of a small creature lies beside the path. Each time they return to it, less of the meat is eaten, the decay reversing itself.
A fallen branch lies across the trail in the same place—until it vanishes altogether on the fifth loop.

The forest is subtly rewinding itself, caught in a loop, and the group is trapped within it.

Mechanics:

After 3 loops, each character must begin making DC 12 Constitution saving throws each time they pass the loop point again, or gain 1 level of exhaustion (representing the spiritual and temporal strain).
Survival, Arcana, or Insight checks (DC 15) may yield clues:
“The birdsong is reversed.”
“The sun appears to travel from west to east.”
“The carcass is becoming whole again.”

The Solution:

The loop will only break if someone does something in reverse—any reasonable action:

Walking backwards along the path.
Reciting something in reverse.
Turning their clothes inside out.
Making a counter-clockwise circle at the knot-tree.
A creative player might propose mimicking the reversed birdcall or deliberately un-marking a previous trail sign.

Success in this reversal is not about stats, but about insight and intuition.

The Break:

As soon as the reversal is made:

The wind stops.
The path bends sharply—a trail that wasn’t there before now glows faintly with a misty silver sheen.
A single raven swoops silently overhead, heading in the direction of the pond.

Optional Reward:

The first character to break the loop gains a whisper of insight—perhaps a single-use advantage on a Wisdom saving throw or a faint memory from Naila herself.

“You looked the wrong way to find the right path. You may do so again.”

Deal Offered

Damos appears, half-visible between trees, laughing and offering an easier path:

“Break the crystal, set her free. That’s what you want, isn’t it? No fuss, no blood.”
“And I’ll throw in a blessing. Perhaps a silver tongue. Or teeth that never rot.”

Players who bargain with him may receive tainted “gifts”, useful but cursed (like a charm that causes another NPC to distrust them unknowingly).

Encounter – The Familiar Face (Illusion-Hunt Dream Trap)

Setup:

After setting camp (or pausing), one player hears a voice they recognize. A trusted person (a sibling, an old teacher, a lost friend, a villager they have connected with) peeks out from behind a tree or rock. Their voice is quiet, coaxing:

“It’s me. I wasn’t sure I’d find you. Come—just for a moment.”

They gesture subtly, always avoiding the group’s line of sight.

Mechanics:

If the player follows them, they’re pulled into a dream-illusion, a false clearing where the familiar face sheds its skin, revealing black eyes and rows of teeth like a shark.
It begins a silent hunt, stalking the player in a fog-drenched dreamscape. Meanwhile, back at camp, the player twitches and bleeds from scratches that weren’t there.

Breaking the Trap:

The party must notice the illusion in time. Clues:
Sudden drop in temperature.
The player murmuring in their sleep.
The faint sound of laughter behind the wind.
Waking them requires effort:
Splashing cold water on them.
Playing a tune or whispering a memory.
If they delay, the player takes psychic damage or suffers a vivid nightmare scar (a fear or image they’ll remember later).

Encounter – The Laughing Clock Glade (Prophetic Visions & Entity Whispers)

Setup:

The forest thins, revealing a clearing with a tree shaped like a warped grandfather clock. Its pendulum is a string of teeth, ticking wetly. Damos’s voice echoes through the trees:

“Tick-tock. Choose what matters, little meat.”

Each player sees a series of disturbing visions, personalized and hinting at other plots:

Vision Threads:(feel free to expand on these)

The Wild Hunt:

A towering elk with molten antlers charges through a night lit by blue moons. Hollow Hunters howl behind it, their eyes glowing like embers.

The Underworldly:

A stone well opens in the ground. Inside, staircases spiral impossibly downward. A pale figure with insect eyes watches, smiling too wide.

The Entity:

Blood-soaked carmine roses bloom along the riverbank. The petals unfold with a faint hiss, revealing shadowy faces that whisper: “All things break.”

Personal Memory Twist:

Each player sees a moment from their past—but wrong. A beloved mentor speaks with the Entity’s voice. A sibling cries silver tears. A mirror shows the player’s own face, rotting and smiling.

Outcome:

Players must resist the lure to change course, the temptation of power, or the fear of doom. Each failure causes disadvantage on Insight or Wisdom-based checks for the next encounter.
One player may “mark” themselves by speaking to a figure in the vision—gaining a boon or curse (depending on your plans):
A “Hunter’s Eye” that glows when danger is near.
A whispering voice in dreams, demanding they remember the Entity’s name

ENCOUNTER - The Buried Bargain

A literal choice to bury or unearth pain

Setup:

The group finds a clearing with a small shrine made of thorns. A small mound of fresh earth lies before it.
A voice whispers from within the shrine:

“One of you carries sorrow. Lay it down, and the path will open. Or bury nothing—and carry it forever.”

Test:

If a player shares a painful memory, they may:
Gain a charm-like blessing later (e.g., advantage on a key Persuasion check with Naila).
If no one speaks, the shrine bleeds sap, and the forest darkens.

This is a test of character—meant to hint at the ritual’s emotional toll. Naila is watching, through the trees, just barely felt.

ENCOUNTER - The Sparks in the Reeds

A gentle moment—the last echo of Naila’s presence before the ritual

Setup:

As the party crosses a slow stream, they see tiny, flickering lights darting between reeds—Naila’s sparks.
Tamsin (if present) falls into a whispering trance, pointing:

“They’re calling. They remember laughter. They want to believe again.”

The party may kneel by the reeds and listen—the sparks hum soft riddles (offer clues toward which ritual path may be safest).

Optional Riddle:

“To mend a chain, a heart must break.
To soothe her wrath, another must ache.
But if she sees what love still lives,
The river might forgive… might forgive.”

Final Result of the Journey:

The group emerges shaken, wiser, and changed.
The nature of how they handled each encounter may subtly affect Naila’s reaction:
Compassion > opens redemption path.
Greed, fear, or cruelty > feeds her fury.
Kind sacrifice > balances the ritual.
Some forest spirits (neutral or faintly corrupted) may whisper approval… or retreat in sorrow.

3. The Pond and the Ritual

At last, the players reach the pond—a mirror-like expanse deep in the Gloom, utterly still, circled by hanging vines and stones etched with faint glowing runes. The water holds a strange depthless shimmer.

At its center, just beneath the surface, lies the crystal binding Naila.

The Setting:

The area is eerily quiet—no frogs, no insects, no birds.
The air is damp and unnaturally cold, even in sunlight.
The crystal pulses, and occasionally Naila’s face flickers within the surface—anguished, silent.

The Ritual:

The players must place the four charms at cardinal points along the pond’s edge. Each reacts differently when placed:

Raven’s Shadow – Casts a perfect, unmoving reflection across the water, even with no sun.
Hare’s Scent – Causes clover and wild mint to grow briefly along the edge, before withering again.
Spider’s Whisper – Forms a soft, glistening web between nearby branches; faint whispers begin to harmonize.
Swallow’s Breath – A breeze circles the pond once, gently pushing away the mist.

The ritual requires one player (or an NPC like Mira) to recite a short invocation. Nanette may have provided it in rhyme:

“From silver stream to silent shore,
Unbind the breath that sings no more.
By warmth and wing, by thread and sky,
Let water weep and chains go dry.”

The Outcome – Phase 4 Ends Here

Depending on:

Who speaks the words
Whether the charms are whole
If Damos interfered successfully
Whether any corruption remains at the site

…the ritual either:

Succeeds, starting Naila’s return (Phase IV),
Backfires partially, causing her to lash out (if charms are damaged),
Or stalls, and she whispers for “more... truth... justice...”.

Phase 4 – The River Awakened

The General Scene of Release:

The last thread of the ritual slips into silence.
For a heartbeat, the world holds its breath.

Then the river shudders — a long, trembling ripple that spreads through the reeds, up the banks, into the trees themselves.
The surface of the water splinters like glass, and a terrible pressure builds in the air — as if the river itself were inhaling, pulling the breath from the world around it.

The colors twist first.

The river turns from dull gray to a burnished silver, flickering and seething like molten moonlight.
The trees along the bank blacken at their roots, their branches etched with crimson veins.
The sky overhead dims, thick clouds bleeding a sickly golden light into the clearing.

The smell follows.

The rich scent of wet earth and wildflowers is swallowed by the stench of iron, river mud, and broken lilies — bittersweet and cloying.
An acrid undertone, like burning herbs or spoiled wine, stings the back of the throat.

Then, the sound.

The river roars — not with water, but with a chorus of whispering voices, a thousand weeping songs overlapping and crashing into a single, haunting lament.
Beneath it, a low, guttural sob, almost human but stretched and broken.

From the heart of the river, where the water had once mirrored the sky, a fractured crystal rises — its surface cracked and steaming with pale green light.
It pulses once.
Twice.

And then it shatters with a shriek like a hundred mourning birds.

Through the mist and shattered spray she rises.

Naila.

Once serene and beautiful, now a thing of awe and sorrow, stitched together from the river’s own grieving soul.

Her hair is a flowing tapestry of silver and black weeds, drifting about her like a cloak.
Her skin glimmers like polished stone, but cracks and weeping fissures leak silver mist along her arms and cheeks.
Her eyes burn — not with anger alone, but with a hollow grief so deep it feels endless.

Crowned with reeds, fragments of lilies still clinging to her brow, she is the river made flesh, broken and beautiful.

Her First Moments

She floats above the ruined crystal, dripping water onto the earth, and when she speaks, her voice is like a crashing tide, layered with sorrow and fury.

"You have shattered my chains... yet the river bleeds. The reeds weep. The soul of the water is poisoned, and I—"
"I remember every betrayal."

Her form trembles — not from weakness, but from the agony of memory.

She stretches out her arms — the river responds in kind, a towering wave rising and then falling back with a guttural groan.
The trees seem to lean away from her.
The grass withers under her feet.

The air smells sharper now — coppery and clean, like a storm just before it breaks.

“The Betrayers… the Thorn… all must drown for their crimes against me!”

Initial Fury

Upon being freed, Naila would likely be overwhelmed with anger and grief. She would lash out indiscriminately at those nearby, her essence crackling with chaotic water magic. Her wrath would be fueled by:

The betrayal of humans she once protected.

The agonizing imprisonment that robbed her of her freedom and connection to the river.

Naila’s Manifestation — Based on Charm Craftsmanship

Charm Quality	Effects
Perfect Charms	Naila’s form is coherent. Her wrath is vast but contained. Her shape is that of a regal river maiden crowned with woven reeds, her skin shimmering like a moonlit pond.
Flawed Charms	Naila’s form is frayed. Parts of her seem wrong—her hair streaming like black weeds, her fingers tipped with thorny claws. Her voice carries an unnatural echo.
Poor or Missing Charms	Naila’s form is broken. Twisted horns grow from her brow, her eyes leak black tears, her voice is a broken cacophony of sobbing and shrieking. She struggles to hold herself together, barely more than a spirit of vengeance.

If the players offer only a token (an object tied to guilt)

Naila’s fury is sharpened, not soothed.

She regards the token with cold, burning eyes — not reaching for it.

The river around her stirs violently, small whirlpools churning near the banks.

"You bring me trinkets? Tokens? As if they could wash away betrayal. As if they could cleanse the poison from my waters?"

Her voice becomes thunderous.

Waves crash against the banks.
The sky darkens further, heavy with angry clouds.
The smell of scorched riverweed and burnt herbs fills the air.

"Blood must answer blood. Or the river will take what is owed."

Result:

She grows even more unstable and aggressive.
The environment becomes more hostile — floods, storms, dangerous spirits stirring.
Future dealings with her will be far more dangerous unless corrected.

If a colluder is forcibly dragged forward and presented

Naila's gaze locks onto the struggling figure — a colluder forced against their will.

At first, a tense silence.

The river stills unnaturally.
The smell sharpens: iron and crushed lilies.

Slowly, she moves forward, her feet not touching the ground.

With a hand like mist woven with moonlight, she touches the colluder’s forehead.

The colluder lets out a strangled gasp, going still — a thread of silver mist rising from their mouth into Naila’s hand.

Her form steadies slightly.
Small horns of woven river-reeds sprout from her brow.
Her hair blackens slightly at the ends.

She absorbs part of the guilt, but it changes her — solidifying her as a spirit of partial vengeance.

"This debt is acknowledged. Yet even now, it weighs less than the Thorn’s crime."

Result:

Naila becomes calmer, but partially corrupted.
She will demand Damos’s punishment to fully rest.
Her influence on the river remains dangerous but no longer wildly destructive.

If a colluder voluntarily steps forward and sacrifices themselves

At first, Naila narrows her eyes, suspicious.
She stretches out a hand — the river whispering around her — ready to take.

But when the colluder kneels willingly, baring their guilt, she falters.

The mist around her shudders. The river itself groans, as if in mourning.

She leans close to the colluder’s forehead… and then, trembling, draws back.

Her voice softens, breaking at the edges:

"You carry guilt… yet you choose to bear it, not cast it aside. There is sorrow here... not malice."

She straightens, regal despite the wounds in her form.

"You may live."

She waves her hand — a blessing of silver mist — and forgives the colluder.

Small visual changes still occur:

A faint silver scar appears across her chest.
Her hair remains streaked with black at the tips.
Her horns begin to grow but do not fully crown.

Result:

Naila remains mostly whole, far closer to her original benevolence.
Path C (true healing) is more easily achieved.
The river’s healing begins almost immediately — plants flourish, spirits calm.

Asking About Damos:

If the players ask where to find Damos, her expression darkens like a storm cloud.

She speaks, voice dripping bitterness:

“The Thorn fled when my chains shattered. But his stink fouls the river still. Seek where the lilies rot, where the reeds sing of sorrow.”

She elaborates in chilling tones:

“Beyond the Holloway Mill... Follow the river upstream where no child dares swim, past the broken stones where once laughter danced. In the hollow beneath the Weeping Cleft, his lair of thorns festers.”

Clues hidden in her words:

Rotten lilies → areas of dead flora along the riverbanks.
Singing reeds → faint whispers heard only at night.
Broken stones → ruins or remnants of an old riverside dance grove.
The Weeping Cleft → a ravine carved into the landscape, marked by hanging moss like "weeping" tears.

Depending on her current state

Vengeful Naila (no appeasement or only a mere token):
"Find him. Break him. Drown his screams in the river's voice."
Partial Mercy Naila (forced offering):
"He must answer. But… there may yet be a choice. Justice... or vengeance."
Healed Naila (Volunteer sacrifice):
"End his sorrow. Or heal it, if your hearts are strong enough. But be warned — thorns cling hardest to those who bleed."

Notes for You as GM:

If the players appeased Naila well, she may gift them a blessing of the river (protection against corruption or safe passage through water).
If she is still heavily wrathful, she may demand they bring Damos’s horn as proof of his demise—or she may flood parts of the valley in her sorrow.
Naila's presence alters the river permanently; parts will heal, parts will forever bear scars.

Phase 4, Part 2: Showdown at the Withered Heart

Setting: The Withered Heart

Damos has retreated to his lair:
A sunken glen hidden deep north of the town, beyond the western reaches of The Mire, where the land turns soft and rotted.

At its center rises a massive, ancient tree — long dead, its bark ashen gray, its branches twisted like skeletal fingers clawing at the mist, its bark split and pale like bone. The air is damp and heavy with decay. Pools of brackish water reflect distorted images of the players, bending their faces grotesquely.

Growing around the tree's roots are clusters of huge crimson roses — unnaturally bright against the gray world.
Their scent is thick and sweet, cloying — a perfume that clings to the skin and leaves a metallic taste in the mouth.

Subtle whispers seem to flow from the roses if one lingers: promises of love, power, belonging... lies of the dark entity.

The Satyr Damos – The Laughing Thorn

Damos himself is waiting there, hunched among the roots. His once merry eyes are hollow now, his horns darkened and cracked. Thorny vines twine through his fur, grown out of his flesh. He is less creature of forest now, more creature of sorrow and spite. Yet, despite it all, there is a flicker of something else: a deep, aching loneliness.

Once a mischievous trickster spirit of the woods, Damos has been twisted by the Gloom, corrupted by bitterness and grief, and empowered by the stolen vitality of Naila. But deep down, a sliver of his old self remains—buried under thorns, mockery, and pain.

Opening:

"Come to mock me, have you? Or finish what the world started when it made me a fool?"

If approached calmly or questioned:

"You see them, don't you? The roses... beautiful, aren't they? Promised me love... promised me her hand if only I helped bind her.
And she... she would have loved me... if not for them."

He gestures wildly, meaning Naila, the villagers, everyone.

Player Actions and Possible Outcomes:

If the players approach aggressively, Damos will bare his teeth in a cruel smile. He welcomes the violence, as if it is proof that the world deserves his bitterness. If they threaten him to leave, he almost seems relieved, but this is an illusion — allowing him to slip away will awaken a terrible fury in Naila, for she will see it as abandonment of justice. The river will grow darker still, and the village will suffer under her wounded wrath.

If, however, the players approach carefully, with empathy or wisdom, there is a chance to reach him. Damos is bitter, but not fully gone. When questioned, he will admit, with broken pride, that the roses whispered promises to him. They told him Naila could be his, that she could love him — if only he bound her, if only he took what was meant to be his. The betrayal of those promises weighs on him more heavily than any chains. If pressed further, or reminded of what once was — the river dances, the laughter among the reeds, the days when he was merely a playful spirit and she a radiant song — Damos begins to break.

He may tremble. He may weep.

Given the right words — not force, not threats, but a quiet urging to remember who he was — he will slowly agree. Not because he thinks he deserves forgiveness, but because he longs to see her once more, even if only to die by her hand.

If Players Threaten or Attack Immediately:

Damos sneers bitterly.
He refuses to listen, cursing them for siding with "liars and traitors."
Combat begins — he fights desperately, using thorns, illusions, and swamp creatures.

If killed:

His blood seeps into the roses, and a final gasp escapes his lips, sounding almost relieved.
(Naila will mourn but remain scarred — middle path outcome.)

If Players Demand He Leave:

Damos grows quiet, almost gentle.

"I will leave... leave this place and its cursed waters behind.
I'll find new streams to sing to, new hearts to wound."

But:
If the players let him flee, Naila's rage will be furious.
She sees it as a betrayal.
The river will remain twisted, and worst path outcome ensues.
(This is the only real "trap" choice.)

If Players Appeal to His Past:

If players speak of what he was, remind him of laughter and freedom, or mention Naila's true nature:

Damos falters.
His hand reaches for one of the roses — but stops, trembling.

"She... she danced in the shallows once.
Her laughter was the river’s own song.
I remember... I remember..."

His eyes clear briefly — and deep grief settles in.

"If she would have me face her...
If she would grant me the kindness of her rage..."

He agrees to surrender.

(Leads to best path outcome — he allows himself to be taken to Naila.)

Final Touch:

If he surrenders, the players can escort him back to the river or to a place of ritual.
Upon seeing him, Naila will kill him, but gently, almost cradling his fading spirit — freeing herself truly, and forgiving both herself and him in the process.

If he is killed violently or flees, there is no full healing for Naila — only anger, scars, and further rot.

Summary of Timeline and Choices

Timing	Player Actions	Result	Path Unlocked
Before freeing Naila	Try to fight Damos	Cannot win; he mocks and vanishes.	—
Before freeing Naila	Attempt to redeem Damos	Shakes his resolve; he may change later.	Enables Path C
After freeing Naila	Fight and kill Damos	Ends his story violently; enrages Naila.	Path A
After freeing Naila	Convince him to sacrifice himself	He redeems himself and frees Naila completely.	Path C
After freeing Naila	Let him live	He becomes a haunted creature; Naila remains pained.	Path B (or custom offshoot)

Epilogues

The River’s Fate — True Epilogues

I. Dark Waters – The Age of Wrath

(Damos survives or is ignored — Outcomes 1, 2, 3)

The river remains wounded.
The Gloomwood's reach slithers deeper into the valley, and Naila, twisted further by betrayal and grief, becomes a being of vengeance.

No appeasement:
The river is furious and unpredictable. Floods wash away farms, ghostly forms haunt the riverbanks, and fishermen vanish without a trace.
Forced appeasement:
The violence of the river is slower to rise, more selective. Some fields thrive, others rot mysteriously. Warnings manifest: sickly blooms, whispering reeds.
Voluntary sacrifice:
There is a fragile tension. Those who leave offerings at the river's edge are mostly spared. Children are forbidden to approach the water after sunset.

Signs:

Cracked river stones "weep" black water at dawn.
Crops stunted; animal births decrease.
Strange river fogs seep into the lowlands by night.

Mood of Ravenshollow:
Fear and fatalism spread. Old superstitions rise stronger than ever.

River Traits:

Haunted Crossing:
Crossing the river without an offering (a token tossed into the water) risks attack by malevolent spirits or sabotage by unseen hands.
Rot of the Banks:
Crops near the river tend to wilt or turn bitter. Herbalism DCs are increased when gathering near the river.

Boons (Rare, Difficult to Earn):

The River's Warning:
If a proper offering (silver coin, woven reed charm) is made, travelers sometimes receive an eerie whisper warning them of dangers ahead.

Challenges:

Random floods at inopportune moments (great for storytelling tension!).
River paths sometimes "shift," leading travelers astray unless they are skilled in lore or navigation.

II. Mournful Waters – The Age of Sorrow and Healing

(Damos is slain — Outcomes 4, 5, 6)

Naila's heart is avenged but not healed. The river finds uneasy balance: a spirit torn between mourning and life.

No appeasement:
Naila allows the river to flow normally, but bitterness lingers. The river will occasionally lash out: flash floods, drowning weeds, broken mills.
Forced appeasement:
There is respect but no love between Naila and Ravenshollow. Offerings and ceremonies must be maintained to keep her blessings.
Voluntary sacrifice:
Sorrow mellows into bittersweet care. The river is generous in times of need, though storms may still come if the village forgets to honor her.

Signs:

Silver lilies bloom at the Whispering Lakes.
Every new moon, strange lights drift along the river.
The mill runs, but its wheel occasionally creaks with the sound of distant sobbing.

Mood of Ravenshollow:
Hope and fear live side-by-side. Folk tales about the "Lady of the River" multiply.

River Traits:

Sorrowful Calm:
The river is mostly stable, but during storms or when blood is spilled near its banks, spirits stir and cause accidents or supernatural occurrences.
Silver Lily Bloom:
Silver lilies bloom along the river. Harvesting these respectfully can grant minor blessings.

Boons:

Spirit of Healing:
Healers who perform rituals (such as washing their hands in river water) gain a bonus to healing checks for one day.
Watchers Beneath the Water:
River spirits may quietly guide lost travelers back to safety — if those travelers show proper respect (a simple song, a bow, or a flower).

Challenges:

Offending the river (cutting reeds without permission, spilling blood wantonly) might cause spirits to curse travelers or crops.

III. The Bright Waters – The Age of Renewal

(Damos is convinced to surrender — Outcomes 7, 8, 9)

Naila, though deeply scarred, embraces forgiveness. Her essence purifies not just the river, but the soul of the land.

No appeasement:
Her forgiveness heals the river, but the village must still earn her full trust through deeds.
Forced appeasement:
There is gratitude tempered by caution. Naila watches, silent but forgiving, offering blessings when deserved.
Voluntary sacrifice:
Harmony flourishes. The river becomes a living spirit of protection, nurturing Ravenshollow with gentle, unseen hands.

Signs:

The river's surface shimmers even on moonless nights.
Fields and orchards thrive; strange, beautiful wildflowers bloom near the banks.
River spirits, once feared, become guides to the lost and guardians of the brave.

Mood of Ravenshollow:
The villagers tell stories of the "Lady Beneath the Reeds," a symbol of rebirth and hope. A shrine is raised at the Whispering Lakes, where children sing songs on midsummer nights.

River Traits:

Blessed Waters:
Drinking river water (properly drawn with respect) grants temporary minor bonuses: +1 to perception or insight checks for an hour.
Blooming Banks:
The riverbanks flourish with rare herbs and fruits; herbalists and foragers gain bonuses when gathering here.

Boons:

Guidance of the Lady:
Travelers who leave an offering of flowers at a river shrine can ask for a sign. Small river spirits may show them omens, hidden paths, or warn of dangers.
The Singing Current:
At night, the river sometimes "sings." Those who sleep by it may receive prophetic dreams or soothing rest (recovering additional exhaustion).

Challenges (Minimal but Thematic):

The river demands continued respect — if the village grows too arrogant or neglectful, Naila's favor may wane.
The dark forces of the Gloomwood may see the river as a place of light to extinguish, leading to new plots.

The River Nymph

The Corruption of the River Nymph

The River Nymph: Naila of the Silver Flow

The Reflection Stone: Forgotten Lore and Living Superstition

Ancient Purpose

Outside the village

Damos, Before the Gloom — The Wild Joy of the Forest

The Fall — Love Turned Sour

Damos Now — The Laughing Thorn

The Weaving of the Trap: How Damos Bound Naila

The First Strand: The Binding Thread (Iona Briar)

The Second Strand: The Poisoned Waters (Aidan Wren)

The Third Strand: The Ritual Circle (Jorin Fell)

The Moment of Binding

Final Notes

Personae

The Farmsteads

Ravenshollow

The River’s Whisper: Chaos Beneath the Surface

The Mill in Turmoil

Fishing and Farming Falter

Growing Fear in the Village

The Locket

Visions in the Water

Tamsin and the Sight

Unspoken Truths

The Sparks of Nalia

How They Appear to Tamsin

What Tamsin Feels

Whispers from the Sparks (via Tamsin’s Sight)

1. The Weeping Root

2. The Thorn’s Laugh

3. The Locket’s Mirror

4. The River Remembers

5. Three Must Bear the Memory

The Thorned Bride

The Stone Bleeds

Mira Ashford’s Insight

CLUES FROM MIRA’S BOOKS

Old Man Cedric’s Wisdom

LEGENDARY CLUES & HISTORIC SIGNS

RUMORS — TRUE, FALSE, OR TWISTED

Echoes Beneath the River

A Quest Arc of Mystery, Betrayal, and Reconciliation

Theme:

PHASE I: THE WHISPERING WATER

Tone & Intent:

Key Events & Encounters

The Boy in the Water

Scene Description:

Player Opportunity:

Subtle Clues Embedded:

Impact on the Story:

Optional Outcome Variations:

Atmospheric Notes:

The River Mirror & Tamsin’s Trance

The Vision:

Player Opportunity:

Impact on the Story:

Optional Outcome Variations:

Atmospheric Notes:

Additional Flavor:

Visit from the Wrens

"The Spilled Cider"

Players may:

Subtle Clues Embedded:

Player Opportunity:

Subtle Clues Embedded:

Impact on the Story:

Atmospheric Notes:

"The Hunter's Warning"

Scene Description:

Player Opportunity:

Subtle Clues Embedded:

The Shadowed Mill

Player Opportunity:

Clues Embedded:

Woven Threads

Scene Description:

Player Opportunity: