Buried Alive
In the end, the forest claims everyone who enters. Most never return. Those that do come back with their minds and bodies broken. Fight to survive, but know that you will be marked. You will be claimed. You will be the forest’s trophy.
- Name: Nima
- Occupation: Sellsword (athletics, defence, weapons)
- Background: Reformed thug (intimidation)
-
Drive: Publish your discoveries from ancient Kalduhr
Do they know rituals? (69) Yes. How many? 1
- Ritual: Project (observe a remote location in spirit form)
- Ruin: 2
- Dooming: 0
The forest is old and full of nightmares. But you know the path. Through the maze of brush and crushing darkness, you know where temples erected to long-forgotten god-kings still lie untouched. All that rests within them is yours for the taking. Will you tread carefully, and leave with riches and renown beyond your wildest dreams? Or will you learn—far, far too late—that the forest has awoken from its fitful slumber?
Ring 1. Edge of the Forest
You are standing on a dust road at the edge of dense forest. You hear horses hooves and the crunch of wheels approaching.
“I don’t want anyone to see me enter the forest. It’s not illegal, I think, but still.”
You slip quickly from the road. You watch someone pull up in a carriage. An expensively dressed man descends, followed by another carrying a heavy load. The carriage pulls away.
“I listen and wait. They must be coming in. Are they treasure seekers? Game hunters? Or are they hiding something here where nobody will find it? I don’t want to be seen, whatever the answer.”
Head held high, the leading man strikes forward into the trees, pointing the way with a long-bladed knife.
“This guy looks like an idiot. Doesn’t mean harmless though.”
Do they make good headway? (1d6 => 5) Qualified Yes.
You watch the leader hack his way through thick vines, energetically cutting a wide path. He soon tires and the servant behind takes over. His pace is more measured but does not slow.
“He’s not done this before has he? I’ll stay back and off to one side, see what they’re about.”
You come to a wide-trunked tree and peer out but cannot hear or see them. They must have stopped. You listen for voices but hear only the natural world — the rustle of the treetops, birds calling and the buzzing of insects. Then, underneath that, a gentle humming sound, like a lullaby.
“This place is weird. I don’t want to hang about forever. I will keep going. I think they’re already lost.”
You move forward and discover the reason why they had gone quiet: a sharp drop from a recent landslide. Tree roots stick out over a precipice. Below a muddy creek flows.
Is there a bridge or makeshift crossing? (1d6 => 3) No.
Could you jump it? (1d6 => 4) Qualified Yes.
There is no crossing that you can see but it’s not so wide that an athletic adventurer couldn’t catch the other side.
“Let’s be smart about this. I will be coming home this way with a heavy load. I need an easier way. Are the other two climbing down? Do they have rope?”
Do they? (2d6 => 6) Yes.
From your vantage point you can see the baggage man has put down his pack and pulled out a rope. He is tying it to a tree and testing it for a careful descent.
“When he goes over the edge I’ll sneak up. That toff will be distracted by his man and I’ll get close enough to deal with him.”
If this fails, you will give yourself away. For an extra light die, the aristocrat will be an expert fencer, trained by the finest weaponmasters in the region.
“I’ll take that bargain and no more. I’m handy with a blade myself.”
Risk light (2d6 => 6) Success.
“I’m right up behind the tree with the rope round it. He’s on the other side, lowering the pack down to his man. I step out and grab him just when the rope goes slack. Hand across mouth, knife across throat, silent. I give it thirty seconds before the sod at the bottom twigs. But before that he’ll have untied the pack. I gently tug on the rope and it comes up. I hear shouting but I’m already checking the body.”
Do you know him? (1d6 => 4) Qualified Yes.
The man’s neat uniform is spoiled with his blood, the flow slowing and thickening in a pool. Up close the man seems familiar. The house sigil on his scabbard marks him as a member of a household you have known.
“I know this face. Don’t know why I didn’t spot the likeness before. I fought with his brother out east. He’s been dead five years, poor bastard. He was on watch and they slit his throat while we slept… Oh shit.”
Ruin: 2
Increase Ruin? (1d6 => 3) Yes.
Ruin: 3
You root through pockets and find a map for the same site you are hunting. In large writing it claims ‘the dream-catcher of Elzedor’ — the smaller text underneath seems to swim before your eyes.
“Stash this and start untying that rope, it’ll come in handy. I’ll head back along the edge to the place I came out before, see if I can find a narrower point to cross.”
Though it is later in the afternoon the light seems bright and you can’t seem to focus your eyes on the knot in the rope. It takes longer than you would like to untie it, which you eventually do more by feel than sight. With the sun in your eyes you look across the gap, not quite sure if that’s the manservant, resting on his pack at the edge of the trees.
“Is he looking at me? Is he smiling? Or are his eyes closed — I really can’t tell. I need to find some shade, this sun’s too bright. I’m moving along the gap the way I came.”
You steal through the trees, looking back at the other man. He appears not to move or notice you. The sun creeps behind the trees and the excitement of the moment fades. A sudden warm breeze smothers you like a blanket. You’ve been in his position before — the hired muscle, the disposable worker sent into dangerous situations. How do you intend to avoid that fate in future?
“What is he doing there, just dozing? I guess I’d do the same, if my boss was dead. Well, if they paid up-front. If they paid on safe delivery then I’d be fucked. But I’m not working for the Big Man today or ever again. That Elzedor’s got some serious loot buried with her, they say. The dream-catcher isn’t even a fraction of the Dream Queen’s horde. Funny how this guy was going there too, he didn’t look short of coin.”
Can you leap the gap? (2d6 => 6) Yes.
The slow descent to darkness continues. The gap here is the width of a man’s jump, for an athletic man. Of course, a man with a bear in pursuit would probably jump further and faster.
“I didn’t need that rope after all. I’ll take my time and do this carefully. I’m glad there’s no bears in these woods, or so I’m told.”
Risk roll (1d6 => 4) Qualified Yes.
You check the ground for a solid run-up but you can’t quite see the conditions of the landing spot. It seems okay in this light. You take a powerful leap and at the last second a fluttering form passes at the edge of your peripheral vision. You twist your head to see it but nothing is there. You catch your foot as you land and cannot recover your balance, crashing bodily through the undergrowth.
Do you hit your head? (1d6 => 2) No.
“Up up up! I can’t stay here. I need somewhere safe to sleep tonight and I don’t trust that man snoozing back there. I need somewhere out of sight or somewhere defensible. I can sling my hammock between the branches of the right tree, which should keep me off the ground too and maybe hidden in the foliage.”
You walk deeper into the forest and what little light there was is quickly swallowed by the high canopy here. Everything is shades of green and brown. The trunks are wide and few branches are reachable. The gentle shush shush of your footsteps seems incredibly loud.
“Why is it so quiet? There should be noise. Is everything here holding its breath and watching?”
You hear only the creak of the branches above and a slow breathing emanating from the earth itself.
“I need to get up a tree. I’ll use this rope if I have to.”
Are there any suitable trees? (1d6 => 4) Qualified Yes.
A perfect tree appears out of the darkness, its branches creating a spiral staircase up from the forest floor. If the branches fail you will come crashing down. To increase your odds, you may risk another resident in the tree.
“This is my spot for the night and I’ll sleep alone. I’ll sling my hammock under a branch, that’ll work. I’ve done this loads.”
Risk light (1d6 => 5) Qualified Yes.
You settle down for the night.
Ring 2. Red in Tooth and Claw
You hang lazily from your hammock, suspended far out of view of the forest floor. The branches are festooned with thick leaves and vines which provide excellent camouflage. Sleep comes quickly in the warm night.
You awake suddenly to a chill breeze. The scene around you is lit with silver: the full moon is visible and casts your surroundings in light and dark. While you slept, thick vines have snaked their way around your hammock, grasping and holding blindly.
You hear a gentle creaking and watch as heavy flower heads on branches around you burst open and greet the moon. An aroma fills the air, pleasant and soothing. The largest of the flowers are nearly the size of a man and you see with growing horror that encased inside some of them are animals in various states of decomposition and digestion.
Increase ruin from 3? (1d6 => 4) Yes
Ruin: 4
“Holy shit what is that. I need to get out of here.”
That one contains a small monkey. You could almost mistake it for being asleep. The next one is empty but for a small gold brooch and a belt buckle. The scene in front of you says run! but the pleasant floral perfume insists that you relax.
“The last guy here didn’t make it home with anything did he?”
“I need to cut my way out. I’ll just lie here, sawing away at these vines. I’ll use that rope and just drop down to the ground from here.”
“My pack is here with me in the hammock. I’ve got everything I need. My trusty knife. I start sawing away at the nearest vine just to see how easy this will be.”
Your chosen vine erupts a thick pus as you cut it. A tiny splash touches your skin, which tingles as if you’d been sleeping on your arm. As if in reaction to your one cut the other vines twist and thicken and tighten. The grasping vines now take all of your weight, pulling you closer.
Your knife will easily cut the vines though obviously not without triggering its defences. Sometimes animals lie in wait at the foot of the moonburn tree, to take advantage of any prey lucky enough to escape its clutching vines — would you like to take that risk?
“I’ll take that bargain, and do whatever it takes to get out of here.”
Risk light/dark (2d6 => 4)/(1d6 => 1) Qualified Yes.
Leaves something behind.
You are pressed up against the tree branch now, with little room to turn. You tie the rope to your hammock and drop the other end into the darkness below. You squeeze between two vines that have turned as solid as wood. You are halfway out, hanging head first from this wooden cocoon in the treetops, wrapping the rope under your armpits. You kick and the vines constrict around your pack as your legs are freed. You swing below the branch, rope in both hands and knife in your teeth. You hear only your heavy breathing.
“This is exhausting, I need to get down. Can I see how far the forest floor is?”
Is it safe to drop? (1d6 => 4) Qualified Yes.
The fall won't kill you but the wolves might.
You would survive the drop, but only the drop. The heavy breathing is also from the circle of wolves below you, moonlight glinting on bright eyes in the dark.
“Shit I forgot about them. Hello boys! I see glittering eyes in the dark but my vision is still blurry and I can’t really count them. This rope wrapped round my arms is cutting me and I just want to let… go…”
“Can I get onto one of the lower branches in the tree? Back into the frying pan. Trees don’t move that fast.”
Lower branch accessible? (2d6 => 6) Yes.
Risk light (1d6 => 4) Qualified Yes.“I’m going to that branch then climb back down the steps of the branches, so I’m coming down facing the wolves on my own two feet.”
Are the wolves climbers? (1d6 => 5) Qualified Yes.
But they can't move easily in the tree.
“I’ve got my knife — do I still have my sword? I feel like I wouldn’t fully take it off even to sleep. Did it make it out the vine trap?”
Sword still available? (1d6 => 6) Yes.
How many wolves try climbing? (1d4 => 3)
Your sword still hangs from your belt and you find your footing on a branch. There is one branch below that, at about chest height from the ground. The wolves circle below you, starting a throaty growl as you stare them in the eye.
The largest wolf leaps onto the branch below, then walks along and jumps back off again. Two others leap up then turn back in turn. The branch isn’t thick enough for them to stand facing you.
Do any attempt the second branch? (1d6 => 4) Qualified Yes.
Just one tries for the second branch.
“Getting my sword out. I’m staying up here for now. That lower branch is a bottleneck and I’m going to keep my advantage. I’ll keep the rope wrapped round my hand in case I lose my balance. If anything comes into range then I’m drawing blood.”
The biggest wolf paces on the lower branch then leaps at you. For a better chance you lose grip of the rope.
“I need this rope but I’ll risk everything else to drop this drooling fucker. But I really want to sit down.”
Risk roll light/dark (1d6 => 2)/(1d6 => 3) No.
Do you lose footing? (2d6 => 3) No.
Do you lose rope? (1d6 => 1) No.
First '1' result from Oracle, increment Dooming.
Dooming: 1
Do you lose sword? (2d6 => 5) Qualified Yes.
It's just down there, next to the wolves.
The fatigue must be getting to you. Did you just have a little microsleep there? The wolf was in the air before you realised and it was sheer martial footwork that kept you alive — that and keeping a grip of the rope. It aimed to drive you over but hit your sword-arm. Your sword flew to the ground along with the wolf.
Increase ruin from 4? (1d6 => 4) No.
“Come back with that you bastard! Oh who am I kidding, I’m going to sit down. Is the sun coming soon?”
Is daytime soon? (1d6 => 6) Yes.
Do the wolves grow bored? (1d6 => 5) Qualified Yes.
They leave with a memento.
The grey light of dawn is already picking out the leaves in the canopy above. The wolves grow weary of this game — they came here for easy pickings. They start to peel off. The final animal trots over to your fallen sword, picks it up in its mouth, gives you one last look then disappears after the pack.
“Unbelievable. Shit I’m exhausted. No sword, no pack, just a knife and a rope whose end is stuck in a man-eating tree.”
“Time to move on. I still have my own map inside my jacket, but the one I took from the dead guy is up there in the tree. There should be a sparser forest near here where there used to be a settlement.”
You walk from the moonburn tree past the less approachable trees that would have provided a safer night’s sleep. As you hoped, the trees grow thinner and younger. You see elements of overgrown walls and rusted hay feeders. People lived here and worked here, maybe even in your lifetime.
Ring 3. Watch your Back
“I’m too tired. My eyes still blur and the sunlight seems intense already. Is there a hollow behind a wall I can shelter in and get some shut-eye?”
Is there shelter? (1d6 => 3) No.
There is not enough of the walls left to provide shelter. If you lie down here you will be exposed.
“Well I’ll take it anyway. Or a small tree to lean against. Give me five minutes to rest my body.”
Five minutes to risk your weary body? Okay. If you can risk being seen by the servant with the pack you might get the full five minutes.
“I’ll take that risk. You’ll wake me before anything dangerous happens, won’t you..?”
Risk roll light/dark (1d6 => 1)/(1d6 => 4) Qualified Yes.
Now you're hunted.
Do you oversleep? (1d6 => 3) No.
You wake in a few minutes with a sense of having overslept. You are surrounded by the noise of the night, though the sun is still creeping higher. An owl hoots. In the distance the cry of the lone wolf, howling at the moon.
“The shadows haven’t moved, it’s been no time at all. I need to move though.”
You see him standing by a large oak, the pack next to him. The man whose boss you killed. He is looking at you this time.
“I’m trying to run now. I’m not encumbered by pack any more though god knows I could do with some of that jerky. I want to lose him in the trees before he can get closer.”
You’re an athlete but you’re suffering from exhaustion, hunger and bruising on your arm where a wolf jumped at you. But at least the weather still holds. An extra die for the weather to change for the worse.
“We’re still in high season so bad weather won’t be a problem for me. I think this guy’s not so tough. Maybe it’ll force him into shelter. I’ll take your bargain but risk no more. Things are still salvageable.”
Risk roll light (2d6 => 4) Qualified Yes
Lose him and yourself too.
You leap over log and rock, bounding effortlessly through the sparse trees while the wind whips your hair, as if thrilled with the speed you have picked up. At last you leap over a fallen tree and duck behind it to catch your breath. The sensation of flying like the wind abates but the wind does not. The branches shudder and sway above you. The bushes tremble as if being shaken by an angry hand.
You look around and see a garden of stone statues, nothing in common but their closed eyes. Nothing here is familiar from your map.
“I pored over that thing thousands of times. I asked so many people about this area. Gathered so much information. Nobody mentioned these statues?”
The wind whips the lapel of your jacket in your face. The noise is constant now. Whirling clouds of dust spin, gathering small twigs and leaves in their little vortices. As you sit behind this fallen tree you can feel it tremble slightly, shifting this way and that as the wind drags at it.
“Okay I’m beginning to worry now. I think I need some shelter. Is it safe to stay under this tree? It’s beginning to sound uncertain. Can I nestle deeper into it?”
Is the tree safe? (1d6 => 2) No
The tree is now beginning to move. It was more rotten than it first appeared and the trunk rips away from the stump entirely.
“I need to find a shelter. Can I walk somewhere? I might have to crawl.”
Can you walk? (1d6 => 6)
Pitching from tree to tree you are unsteady but you can walk not-quite-upright, holding on to slender trunks to steady yourself.
“They bend but they do not break, is that right? Well I keep walking while I can, looking for something of use, hoping to bend but not to break.”
Is there a shelter in the ground? (1d6 => 5) Qualified Yes.
Is it an empty grave? (2d6 => 2) No.
Is it a trap? (2d6 => 6) Yes.
Well, that explains the 'qualified yes'!
You stumble onwards, blinded by the ceaseless wind battering your face until your next footstep disappears beneath you, dropping you into stillness and darkness.
Did you land badly? (1d6 => 6) Yes.
Is anything broken? (1d6 => 4) Qualified Yes.
You can still walk, it's your wrist.
Is it your dominant hand? (1d6 => 5) Qualified Yes.
You can fight southpaw.
Instinctively you put out a hand to break your fall. The impact broke the wrist of your dominant hand.
Increase ruin from 4? (1d6 => 3) No.
“I gasp and gasp again, like I’m trying to keep breathing in without ever breathing out. I clutch my wrist and screw my eyes tight to overcome the pain.”
“Finally I open my eyes to look at the damage. I look at my wrist and it starts to swell as I cradle it in my other hand. I cannot touch it directly but I need to keep it immobile.”
When you open your eyes you see you are in an empty pit. There is cold packed earth beneath you and thin light comes through the hole you made in the ceiling.
Is it empty? (1d6 => 5) Qualified Yes.
Nature is coming back.
The pit is too dark for green growth but roots grow through the walls.
“Are there tree roots or anything that could be climbed?”
Is there? (1d6 => 6) Yes.
A thick tree root is exposed in one corner of the pit, at about knee height.
“You know I think I won’t actually bother right now. The wind is probably still howling up there and I really need to lie down. I’m going to rest.”
You awake, cold and hungry. The sun has set. The throbbing in your wrist is intense and you see by the pale moonlight that your arm and hand have ballooned grotesquely.
“Damn that was a bad move. I should have got out when I could still see what was happening. I have to climb out of here. And I need to get this arm sorted.”
“I’ll try and dig some extra footholds out of the earth in the same corner as that big tree root. Then I’ll have something to push myself off when I drag myself out. It’ll take forever but I need to give it everything if I’m not going to be trapped in here forever.”
You try to fashion divots in the wall to act as foot holds, covering yourself in dirt and earthworms.
Risk roll light/dark (1d6 => 4)/(1d6 => 1) Qualified Yes.
Further injury to your hand
You haul yourself up one-handed, over the lip of the pit and through a tangle of brambles. The throbbing, swollen mess that was your strong hand is scratched and bleeds profusely. You feel warmth and wetness dripping along the cuff of your jacket. It’s increasingly unlikely that you’ll ever use this hand again.
Increase ruin from 4? (1d6 => 4) No.
“I’m staggering forward in a daze, looking for a way out of this mess. I can still walk so I’ve been in worse scrapes. I dragged a buddy two miles with a broken leg so this isn’t impossible.”
“I need something to kill the pain. There must be something I can eat, berries or herbs that I recognise.”
“I know there’s a river. There’s a river beyond the old settlement and it should be near.”
You stagger on into the night, listening for the sound of running water.
Ring 4. Don’t look Back
Is there a river? (2d6 => 5) Qualified Yes.
Probably not safe though, is it?
Is the other guy near? (1d6 => 1) No.
You definitely hear water but you can’t really pinpoint it. After the dash through the forest earlier you are not sure which way you’re facing any more. The sun went down when you were in the hole so you can’t even tell where sunset was. Now there is only moonlight.
“I’ll keep going the way I was going when I fell in that bloody hole.”
“The map shows the tomb across the river at a bend, beyond the old settlement. If I find the river then the bend should be obvious and I’ll know where I am.”
All of a sudden the ground drops away and the river — black and rushing — appears before you in the pale light.
“I approach to drink. It’s been over a day since anything passed my lips. I reach out with my good hand to cup it in the water and bring it to my lips. I wash the blood gently from my stiff, swollen hand.”
The cool water soothes your throbbing hand and quenches your thirst. For a moment you relax. The river is wide here. It might not be deep or fast but I’m not sure about your swimming prowess right now.
“I need something for this hand. When the sun is up I will fix it as best I can and keep hunting for some herbs to dull the pain.”
Is there anything behind? (2d6 => 2) No.
Is there anything ahead? (1d6 => 5) Qualified Yes.
Only illusions, I expect.
On the far shore you see coloured lights, as if a festival is taking place between the trees. Behind there is only darkness and the promise that you are being hunted.
By morning you see the river in front of you bends round the opposite way than you expect, as if you were already on the far side. The map agrees with your original interpretation.
“Well I definitely didn’t cross this river without noticing so I’m going to assume the mapmaker was an idiot.”
“I’m taking some time to look at my wrist in the daylight. I’ve set bones in the field before and I’ve survived in the wilderness but normally with others who have better herblore. This is important.”
If it goes badly you could take something poisonous. Maybe you would risk the man with the pack catching up with you.
“I’m going to take that risk. If he hasn’t found me already then he’s not even looking for me.”
Risk roll light/dark (1d6 => 3)/(1d6 => 3) No.
You find a small cluster of plants with five rounded leaves. Are these what you need? You stuff a handful of them into your mouth.
“This is definitely the one I remember, Clochuin they call it.”
The effect is not what you’d hoped. The taste in your mouth is rancid and drying. All the moisture is being drained from it. Your tongue feels like a thick carpet.
Increase ruin from 4? (1d6 => 4) No.
Not poisonous then!
“Oh I need to spit this shit out. I’m going back to gargle that river until my mouth feels normal.”
Has the other man arrived? (2d6 => 4) Qualified Yes.
He doesn't approach.
What's he waiting for? (2d6 => 4,3)
"Opposing a new force or old enemy"
Letting Nima draw the danger/trigger traps/etc.
You crouch at the river, rinsing until the taste is gone, or at least until the ice cold water numbs your mouth enough that you can’t taste.
A crack in the trees behind you draws your notice. You cannot see but the man is probably there, watching you.
“He’s not made his move so I’m not in danger. I need to focus on my wrist. I wash the cuts on my hand and wrist again in the daylight. How does it look?”
Is it infected? (2d6 => 6) Yes.
The visible skin is turning a bad colour and is very sensitive to your touch.
“I’ll unstitch the sleeve from my jacket and fold it back over my wrist. That might provide it with some support and a bit of protection from the elements.”
“Then I’m going to ignore that guy hiding in the trees and look for a good place to cross. There must be a bridge or a ford or weir or something to help me.”
Is there a safe crossing point? (1d6 => 2) No.
How about an unsafe one? (2d6 => 2) No.
The view from here is clear and open. There are no crossings of any kind: just wide, rushing water waiting to take your breath away.
“Well this is it. Can I find a log that I can float over. At least something to keep my head out of the water.”
Handy logs on the river bank? (2d6 => 2) No.
You see nothing, though you saw suitable wood further back amongst the trees. Will you return?
“Let’s go hunting. I’ve got my knife in my hand. I don’t feel safe carrying anything with my one good hand while that guy’s around. Time to finish him.”
Do you find him? (1d6 => 1) No (and increment Dooming).
Dooming: 2
You find flattened plants and broken twigs but no further sign of the man who was following you. Are you sure you didn’t dream it?
“Don’t mess with me, I’m not in the mood. I’m getting the biggest log that I haul to the bank and I’m going to paddle across the river.”
Does the man reappear? (1d6 => 6) Yes.
Does he attack? (1d6 => 1) No (and increment Dooming).
Dooming: 3
The infection in your arm must be blurring your mind, or maybe those herbs did something after all. The man appears again as you are hauling your makeshift raft to the river. Again he just stands and watches.
“I’m going in to the river now. Holding on tight with my good arm and kicking against the current at an angle, to choose my landing spot.”
Your athleticism will help you here. If the far bank is steep and needs climbing you’d have a better chance of crossing. Or maybe if there was something in the water chasing you?
“I don’t have the resources for another climb. But I’ll have my knife in my teeth for anything that gets too close. I’m taking this steadily.”
Risk roll light (2d6 => 2) No.
Something in the water? (2d6 => 5) Qualified Yes.
Not tied to the water.
Oh baby it's kelpie time!
The river is fast but not rough. You work hard to maintain your line but the buoyancy of your log keeps you above water. Halfway across the river your boot snags on something. You instinctively kick but cannot feel anything solid. In your momentary loss of forward movement the river takes control again and you spin around facing downstream with your foot anchored upstream.
“I abandon the log and take hold of my knife in my good hand. I take a deep breath to twist under water and face whatever has grabbed me.”
Is it awake? (1d6 => 5) Qualified Yes.
It's waiting (maybe sun too bright?)
The river is clear and brightly lit but a dark cloud hovers in the water at your feet. You see a halo of dark tendrils, like jellyfish tentacles or hair floating in the water, but can’t make out what is at its centre. Your boot is partially envloped by the tendrils.
Increase ruin from 4? (1d6 => 1) No.
“I don’t like the look of this. I’m going to try cutting the tendrils off my boot. But I don’t want to touch them because jellyfish are toxic. I’m risking everything I’ve got here.”
The danger is that you do accidentally touch them, with whatever consequences that involves. To increase your odds you can risk your knife.
“I’m not risking this blade. It’s about all that’s keeping me alive.”
Right now you appear to be safe from whatever has caught you. Would you risk it turning its focus on you?
“If I can get out of here fast then that would be worth it. As soon as I’m free I’ll swim for the far shore with everything I’ve got and not worry about fighting against the current.”
Risk roll light/dark (2d6 => 5)/(1d6 => 2) Qualified Yes.
Sticky hairs stay attached to the boot
With your short knife you carefully cut thin sticky tendrils around your boot and pull yourself free. As you do the cloud shifts and two glowing white eyes appear through the murk. A giant equine head moves towards you as you turn and race for the far shore.
Does it follow? (1d6 => 4) Qualified Yes.
Not right now, maybe when the sun sets?
You burst out onto the far shore, your lungs burning, and run for the trees. The remains of the black tendrils attached to your boot stick to things as you move, picking up twigs and dirt. Within a few paces one of your boots has a thick layer of debris attached to the outside. It hampers your pace and makes it impossible to move quietly.
Increase ruin from 4? (1d6 => 4) No.
“Is that thing following me? I duck behind a tree and look out.”
The water seems normal but you think maybe a dark shadow lurks near the bank. On the far bank the man stands, but your eyesight can’t determine details. Are his arms folded? Is he smiling or frowning?
“I need to find a safe spot and wring out these clothes. I am exhausted and my oversized boot is making it hard to walk through the undergrowth. Five minutes to recover in a clearing and try to warm up. Just five minutes.”
A sunny spot nearby? (2d6 => 5) Qualified Yes
I'll select randomly from some remaining Moments:
1) sleeping bear
2) empty grave
3) memorable trees
4) marker stone
And the answer is (1d4 => 3) trees!
You reach a clearing with a familiar-looking tree at one edge. Its branches spiral up into the canopy like a staircase. Large flower pods cover them. A cluster of thick wooden vines on a distant branch is wrapped around a rucksack that you recognise all too well. Hanging from it is a rope.
Increase ruin from 4? (1d6 => 6) Yes.
Ruin: 5
New Condition (1d8 => 6)
"A feeling of pins and needles in one of your limbs"
“Did I …? No, I’ve only crossed that river once. This wasn’t the clearing I slept in. That wasn’t even a clearing, that deep in the trees. There must be other people escaping those bloodsuckers, this is just a coincidence. But that’s definitely my pack. And that’s the rope I stole.”
“I am going to wring out these clothes and try to pull this stuff off my boot. But I’m going to do it with my back to that tree, sitting a good distance away, in the warm sunlight.”
You empty the pockets of your one-sleeved jacket and look at your sodden map.
“I knew I should have got this thing copied onto proper cloth. It’s all but dissolved. And maybe got a second opinion about its accuracy. The guy seemed honest but that doesn’t mean he was right.”
The detritus on your boot makes you lopsided when you stand and doesn’t want to come off. You’ve been walking strangely and your whole leg seems to tingle in protest at it.
“I carefully take my boots off and stretch out in the sun, thinking of better times. When I had the coin to buy drinks for adventurers in taverns and hear tales of godforsaken treasures in stupid fucking forests. Argh. How did I get here.”
“I shut my eyes.”
Does anything approach? (1d6 => 1) No
Dooming: 4
You dream of warm fires, foaming ales and gold coin.
Ring 5. Desperation
You dream of warm fires, foaming ales and gold coin. The man who sold you on the value of what was to be found in the forest is there, but you can’t quite make out his face. Is he smiling or frowning? Someone spills a mug on you, which chills you through. You turn to remonstrate with the clumsy drunk who did it but find your leg is stuck to the ground.
You wake with pins and needles all up one leg, as if you had been sleeping on it. The warmth has gone out of the day and the sun is quickly disappearing below the tree line. Purples and blues colour the sky. Your injured arm throbs steadily.
“It’s not far. I think I can see the tomb. In and out then I’m home for life you can only dream of.”
Has anything new happened? (1d6 => 3) No.
Away from the river you approach a great stone gateway set in the earth. The moss-covered markings and unseeing statues give nothing away. Poppies poke through the long grass. There is no door but the darkness seems complete as you peer inside.
Off to one side is an empty pit big enough to bury a person and a mound of earth with a broken-handled shovel stuck in it.
“This is the one. I wrote it down on the back of the map but it’s all washed to nothing now. But I read it so many times. The flowers, that statue with wings on its head, the empty grave: it all matches. I wish I had a light. I wish I had that guy’s pack, it’s probably full of supplies. Like mine was.”
In the distance a wolf howls. The light has not disappeared but a crescent moon shows bright through the forest canopy.
“Wait, wasn’t it the full moon yesterday? I still have a flint in my jacket. I’ll try to get a fire going to see something in there.”
You’ve done this before but not one-handed. You gather what you can and hunker down to set some light to the wood you found. If things go badly you’ll be left in the dark. The spark and light will surely make you visible in the twilight. If we say the wolves have found your scent again then you may increase your chances.
“Ha! They don’t scare me now. With fire I can take the whole pack on my own.”
Risk roll light (2d6 => 6) Yes.
Is the other man coming now? (1d6 => 5) Qualified Yes.
Waiting until Nima comes out with some loot: a trap.
Is the kelpie coming now? (1d6 => 1) No.
Dooming: 5
The resinous branch spits but burns readily as you approach the tomb. Behind you the wolves howl. You step inside.
“I’ve got my knife blade in the same hand as the torch, pointing the opposite way. It’s awkward but it’s the best I can do. The other hand is useless. My leg feels so strange. I need another rest. What can I see in here?”
Is the way clear? (1d6 => 1) No.
Dooming: 6
Complication: The way out disappears
You step into the darkness and the darkness swallows you. All you can see is the glow of your torch. You look over your shoulder and see no sign of the entrance you just stepped through.
One way system? (1d6 => 6) Yes.
“I turn around and hold my torch up. This is not good news.”
A simple carved stone motto blocks your path: “to return to the light you must enter into the darkness”.
Increase ruin from 5? (1d6 => 2) No.
“I turn to face into the tomb, leaning with my back against the stone carving. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. It seems I can’t back out now if I wanted.”
“Holding the light as high as I can, what do I see?”
Built walls? (1d6 => 5) Qualified Yes.
Cracked and spilling the earth behind
Height (1-2: Crawl; 3-4: Squat; 5-6: Walk) (1d6 => 3)
A tight squat
Dead things? (1d6 => 5) Qualified Yes.
Dead but not inanimate
Living things? (1d6 => 3) No.
The walls were once a richly carved tomb as befits a powerful royal sorceress. They have crumbled and split, opening up to the earth behind. You can stand easily in the entrance and hold your torch high, but the only way forward is a short tunnel that you have to squat to enter.
“As soon as I try to squat down my leg collapses under me. It still feels like it’s asleep. I need to sit, shuffling my weight forward on my good arm and my good leg, then pick up the torch and move it a bit further and repeat the process.”
Movement is slow. It’s still and airless under here. The sweat trickles down your face in the dark. All you can see is the bright light and nothingness and your dirty hand scrabbling in the earth, pulling you along.
Is there anything valuable? (1d6 => 2) No.
Are there signs of previous adventurers? (1d6 => 6) Yes.
Is it dangerous? (1d6 => 4) Qualified Yes.
Not physically.
The tunnel curves gently round and you feel like you’re spiralling down into inescapable darkness. The only sound is your tired breathing and slow scraping along the ground. Then you hear a voice whimpering from somewhere beyond the reach of your eyes.
“I move the torch behind me so that it’s not blinding me, then my eyes will get used to the dim light so I can see further.”
Your vision is too blurry to see anything but you hear words now: ‘You have to help me’.
“I grip my knife harder and call out ‘where are you? what’s happened to you?’ but mostly to keep them talking. I want to know they’re not sneaking up on me.”
‘Come up here. I’ve got a lamp but no light. I need your torch to light it.’ The speaker is pleading and desperate. ‘You might have to dig your way through. I’ve been down here so long. I don’t know how much longer I can carry on.’
“I don’t trust him. I’m moving really slowly.”
An cave-in has narrowed the tunnel further but the earth is soft. The weight of the tomb is not pressing down on it, but it feels to be pressing down on you. The light from your torch is getting dimmer. The air is getting thin down here.
“I claw my way through the dirt-filled tunnel.”
‘I see your light. Just a bit further.’
On the other side of the blockage you see a grinning skull, propped up on a pile of rusted armour and bones. As the light from your torch finally shows you this grisly scene you hear a scream of terror and realisation.
“How long has this poor bastard been in here? Long enough to turn to nothing but bones.”
The voice you were listening to was someone long dead. The light from your torch shows older, mouldier bodies further along the tunnel. Generations of adventurers and thieves, stuck behind the ones that came before them.
Increase ruin from 5? (1d6 => 6) Yes.
The Forest takes you.
“And I’m trapped in here too. Trapped with their bones and my one good arm. The air is going. There’s no way through. There’s barely any light.”
“And that sneak-thief’s out there, following me. Waiting to do me in, though I never did him any harm. He can wait until the thing in the river catches him. He can wait until the wolves come calling.”
“I take my knife and end my waiting.”