Season 2 - Whimsical Woods
The Whimsical Woods T1 Storyline | S1 E5: Where the Forest Sinks Part II
PARTY
Game Title: E05 Where the Forest Sinks - Part II
Location: Whimsical Woods
Expo: RUSHryan
Watcher: TheFifthRace
Lvl 6 Paladin Tucker D.W. TheFifthRace
Lvl 6 cleric Elandor Dr Sweetumz
Lvl 4 Druid Reena Mirth
Lvl 6 Rogue Crock (Crock) Gator
Lvl 6 Barbarian Rukus Kegstone Xisle
Lvl 7 Barbarian Rurin Balderk RUSHryan
Well this is what I get for complaining, yessir. Grumble about the desert heat? Get sent to a swamp. I 'spose I brought this on myself. You ever try fighting in wet denim? Ever try doing ANYTHING in wet denim? It's a real hinderance, and wet feet don't do much to help your mobility neither. Word of wisdom dear reader, keep your denims and your feets dry at all times. A "quick" recap: We was in this nasty bit of wetness trying to find a piece of the Tide Caller. It's some great and terrible artifact that gots fractured and its pieces were scattered all over Karagatan. We knew one was in the Whimsical Woods, so we made our way up there by hitching a ride on a pirate ship from Darpa Bay. Along the way there were all sorts-a critters. Some good, some bad. Of note were the Verdant Pact, lead by Elder Mossbloom, a big old elk that could talk. Actually lots of the critters could talk in these parts, heck even the trees could move about and communicate after a fashion. Mossbloom was friendly enough for an Elk, and he's the one whats gave us permission to venture deeper into the forest and seek out the fragment. Mossbloom also gave us some strict do's and dont's for conducting ourselves in the forest. Sounds like they don't get many humans round these parts, and if we wanted safe passage, we had to behave.
Apparently some evil crocodile named Vurox had taken the Tidecaller fragment, and was up to some dark deeds with it in the wettest part of the forest. Vurox was the leader of the Drowned Covenant, another faction of critters. This one had all the slimy animals in it, your snakes, toads, crocodiles and the like. Vurox sounded an awful lot like my Daddy. In our travels we bumped into yet ANOTHER faction of critters called The Thundering Hunt. These was all your predator animals. Wolves, bears, that sorta thing. These animals didn't much care for humans in the woods, but some loose agreement with the Verdant Pact kept 'em mostly off our back for now. We also met a fully nude man that stepped right out of a tree. He couldn't talk real good, and carried around a giant club made of bone. In lieu of talkin, he just kinda swirled his arms around and around, so we named him "Swirls" and brought 'em with.
"A lost one? I haven't encountered one myself, but we've been getting reports all over the woods of creatures, much like yourselves randomly appearing... From the reports they appear naked and confused.. but one came through wielding strange magic, similar to the magic you carry, the kind we find in the old ruins deep beneath the land here.... I'm getting distracted" Before we could ask too many more questions, Mossbloom lead us toward a tree that opened up and allowed us to step inside. We found ourselves transported back to one of the Verdant Pact encampments.
Some say a great druid by the name of Eldros Wildroot... they say he made a pact with the forest spirit itself... he gave the beasts thought, purpose. We were awakened. A new order was born. The old city vanished, swallowed by the forest, its name only survives in whispers... Small scattered deep beneath the earth... ruins of these places, we were always told to avoid. Ever since, there have been none of your kind in these woods, and sadly those that wandered in were handled by the Thundering Hunt. There are some that speak of rumors that when the city was swallowed, that it didn't disappear, that it was transported somewhere... somewhere else, and if people like him seem to be popping up out of nowhere... where are they coming from?"
So, Tucker's Takeaways: Certainly seems like our friend Swirls, and those like him are popping out from different points in space time. Swirls appears to be a cave man, but if others have appeared with powers and appearances of those from Ael'Vathis... well, something screwy is going on. We had a limited discussion with Swirls when Reena cast Speak With Animals on him. All we really learned was that some inky blackness had swept him up into a tree and brought him to where we found him. This is the picture he drew to help explain:
The Whimsical Woods T2 Storyline | S1 E5 : Where the Forest Sinks
PARTY
**Tier 2 Storyline: Whimsical Woods | S2 E5: Where the Forest Sinks**
*Report done by Clover Briar*
**PARTY LOG**
Naelen Shadowstrike - Level 9 Rogue | Expo
Captain Karagatan - Leve 9 Monk
Clover Briar - Level 9 Paladin | Watcher
Tahlia Brightleaf - Level 9 Rogue / Ranger
Calla Lili - Level 8 Druid
Frakas Kegstone - Level 8 Paladin
REPORT START
Report date: [-----] Clover's POV Just a short recap before we get into the nitty gritty of everything. So the Steelhawks have been travelling up the river in the Whimsical Woods for about a week now, trying to track down a piece of the Tidecaller, an artifact that an awakened crocodile named Vurox, swallowed. We have a map that tracks its position in relation to us and from right now, it's about three days away from us. The entire Whimsical Woods was supposed to, you know, WOODS. But because of the Tidecaller being held by the evil bad guys. The Drowned Covenant is trying to turn the Whimsical Woods into a swamp, and right now, it's getting pretty close to swamp like. We wake up in the territory of the GFR!! The Glorious Fuzzy Resistance!! They're so cute but I fear if I said it out loud it would be like, offensive, you know? But we're pretty well rested and we wake up and they're roasting some nuts over the fire, pretty sure their diet is just like a normal squirrel diet. LMAO. Sir Chesterton, yeah, that really is his name, it's so cute. The GFR agreed to help us get through the rest of their territory so that we're at least familiar with the area. Their current hideout is inside of a tree, and it's kinda muggy out here, like really bad for my hair... But we're trying to save the Whimsical Woods so we can talk hair care later. The decor is pretty minimal inside of their stump-house, and unfortunately the rest of their people is all housed inside. Meaning... That they are the only ones who have each other. Their handful of maybe 50 are the remaining of their family. Which... Only made me want to fight more- make sure that they see to the end of this to rebuild their home! AND FUCKING FIGHT WE DID. But I'll talk about that later. Like much later LOL. We ask about the bear skin rug on the floor, seeing as the rest of their house was... Not like it? Who ever this poor bear was, was a member of the Thunder Hunt whom they've killed, using it to keep warm during the trying times. I respect it.
inside their stump home
Some areas, abandoned due to the Drowned Covenant
Next spot - Swirls (the Neanderthal)
Next camp - picture Swirls drew - Hippo BITCH i mean, Hag
The Whimsical Woods | S1 E4 : The Fang and the Flood
PARTY
Report Begins
Filed by: Tuff Cookie (Field Scribe, Tactical Sassmaster, Connoisseur of Forest Chaos, and Kicker of Polychlorinated Wyrm-Wannabes)
Participants:
Russ Crowe – Druid, storm wrangler, professional bear impersonator
Chiun – Monk, stunning machine, clinically allergic to drama, but tips well when g-strings are involved
Rukus Kegstone – Barbarian, axe-first-questions-never, more shuffles-than-dance, but solid citizen
Neria – Rogue/Warlock, sharp of blade and glare, Moves-Like-Smoke-And-Mirror, and nice to have to dilute the testosterone ratio
Amadis – Fighter, Croc-snack-But-Never-A-Complainypants, Good-Guy-To-Have-At-Your-Back
Me, Tuff Cookie – Morally and Genderally ambiguous snack enthusiast and all-around Dance partner
Act I: Dragon Problems and Gastrointestinal Explosions
So, we start off cleaning up our little whoopsie-doodle with the yuan-ti tail that chased us into the dragon’s horde room (big mistake for them, big payday for us). Naturally, dragon’s horde means dragon’s temper tantrum. Cue Tythalithis, our fashionably late green-scaled host, descending from the heavens like a gassy thundercloud full of teeth and hurt feelings.
I kicked things off with my signature move—"Haste and Hips"—got everyone movin’ and groovin’ like it was the last set before curfew. Chiun stunlocked the dragon like it owed him money. We all piled on, team-building through violence as we clobbered, shot, and stabbed our way to success.
Then, plot twist: Vurox, the sentient, brooding crocodile and Tidecaller fragment possessor, comes slithering into the fray like a judgmental uncle at a family reunion. We start beating on the Green like it's a pinata before the croc gets to us.
Anyway, we worked Tythalithis over until I kicked his stomach so hard he exploded in a toxic cloud of chlorinated horror. Note to self: next time, wear a mask.
Vurox gets into the fray by now as some of us are retching and not feeling so hot. Okay, that was me.
Amadis rushes the croc, which was waiting for the move with everything but ketchup and special sauce, nearly biting the guy in two. Chun rushes up like he wants to stun him (I swear, that guy is more stunning than me... during fashion week), but Vurox has a plan.
“Tch... Such arrogance in youth. You roared so loud, little wyrm... but you listened so little. The covenant wastes no breath on failure."
Then, into his hand like a bedtime spell: "It is time. Bring the veil—we leave now.”
No idea what that was about until his Frog Mage Uber arrived.
I finished off the last yuan'ti, tossed a little 'Dr. Feelgood' at Amadis, and then the Croc-Frog dynamic doo-duo bamf on out like they're actually takeout chicken.
Prolly taste like chicken, who knows? Just saying.
Act II: Enter the Glorious Fuzzy Resistance
We lick our wounds, loot the leftovers (standard heroic behavior), and exit into a clearing with a squad of yuan-ti malisons… only to watch them get acorn-bombed into next week by what turns out to be the Glorious Fuzzy Resistance (GFR).
Tiny squirrel commandos—think Ewoks with political opinions and demolition skills- make their presence known with exploding acorns. Their leader, Sir Chesterton (fluffy, fearless, full of bravado), welcomes us once we prove we’re anti-tyranny and pro-tree, and that we killed gang-green in the cave.
We make friends; honestly, I didn't even have to fast-talk much, our actions spoke louder than even some sexy words. (Who'da thunk?)
Where we'd holed up in the cave, before the dragon came in.
Kicking some green dragon lamps in.
Some of the Yuan'ti infiltrators.
This was the butthole who ported out with Croc-knocker.
The GFR, in all their fuzzy glory.
Sir Chesterton, who, because he's a squirrel, is at least 90% nuts. Fortunately, it's our kind of nuts.
The dead villages and drowning forest.
Inside our grand Ewok bed and breakfast.
The GFR take us through flooded woods, and we see drowned corpses of animals ('people', here) and dead villages. It's sad what our new, fuzzy allies have been through, and are going through.
We get to their place, inside a giant tree we gotta scale (Amadis' rhino sleeps outside tonight, and thank goodness- farts worse than the green, you ask me). Cue dinner: pemmican diplomacy and crunchy acorn hors d'oeuvres. The GFR are warm, weird, and worried—seems the swamp’s rising, drowning villages, ruining brunch, etc.
They tell us they (yay!) and the frog mages (booo!) got their spellbooks from a long-lost treasure trove of arcane goodies: The Grand Archivum of Ael’Vathis. Sounds like our kind of library.
Act III: Blight Night
In the dead of night—second watch, of course (because Rukus lives right, and the rest of us were tired)—we’re ambushed by vine blights, corpse flowers, and one truly rude mutated tree blight.
Russ, Amadis, Rukus, and Chiun hit the ground running (literally, except for Amadis, who trampolenes off his rhino to faceplant in the watery mud). Neria and I rained down some ranged and magical hell from the squirrel nest, turning carnivorous plants into mulch and firewood.
We held the line. The GFR suffered a tragic casualty (R.I.P. Lt. Piny McPricklebrow), but we saved the rest. Or we saved each other. We soon tasted victory, albeit bittersweet and a little gooey, kinda like roasted acorns.
Tactical Notes & Recommendations
The GFR can seriously use new spellbooks or scrolls. Honestly, we should help. Teach a squirrel magic, and you never lose your keys again. I mean, they'll probably be able to pay- in intel, or allyship, whatever, but it'll help their sitch beyond acorn grenades. They're also no doubt in the market for more than acorns- I mean, how do you live on just acorns? Wonder if you can make acorn whiskey.
This Archivum library might have more than frog mage secrets; lost knowledge, or even history books, or Tidecaller intel-lore. Worth trying to find it and loot explore it.
Vurox, of course is still out there. Our tracking map glows ominously in his direction, which is always promising.
Final Notes from Cookie:
We’ve got leads, new allies (hooray for the GFR), and only mild dead-dragon blood poisoning. All in all, a successful day in the Whimsical Woods. If you need me, I’ll be practicing my acorn hurling form with the resistance, but I ain't sure I'm up to have my acorn balls in a sling. Surprising though, it’s shockingly therapeutic.
End Report.
Filed under: “Suspicious Amphibians & Heroic Rodents” and cross-listed under "Dance Dance Revolution: the Tuff Cookie partisan archives".
This might've been Lt. McPricklebrow. Or a different heroic squirrel, hard to say. Seen one heroic squirrel....
'Addendum: I restrained myself, with great perspicacity, from asking the age-old question of Why do squirrels swim the backstroke?
To keep their nuts dry, of course.
But only because their folk have been dyin' like smelts in waters drowning the forest.
Every good joke requires precision timing.
But it's still funny enough to include in an internal report.'
Report Ends
The Whimsical Woods | S1 E3 : Into the Drowned Depths
PARTY
Report Begins
Location: Whimsical woods
We see this massive, armored crocodile disappear into a cave ahead. We know he has the Tidecaller fragment.
Our rogues sneak up closer and prepare a volley of attacks from the shadows as the less sneaky of us war cry and dash into battle. Nico pops up from a bush and lays down a critical strike from afar.
Captain Karagatan dashes 100ft up to a crocodile and with a single thunderous fist he stuns, grapples, prones, pulls, and damages the poor creature. Then a snake pops out of the water and poisons the captain. From that point forward, the captain just kept this croc pinned to the ground and paid all of his attention toward the snake. The croc felt offended to not even get a glance from the goliath manhandling him, but its bites weren't very effective with its nose shoved into the mud.
The other crocodile takes a bite of Lira and begins dragging her away for dead. Eventually, Crazy Earl picks the croc off with a pushing blast and frees Lira from its mouth, allowing her to heal and flee.
We fight down the enemy forces to one. The critically injured crocodile that was pinned in a figure four leglock the entire time by Captain Karagatan begins pleading for his life. We agree, so we hogtie him for our safety and begin talking.
He gives us the name of his leader, Zythalithis. He gave us the little info he knew. He was alerted of adventurers siding with the verdent pact. He explained that his leader's artifact brought the snow and mist to the swampy area outside of their cave. He doesn't know what the artifact is called other than the nickname, "flood stone."
It turns out the crocodile's cousin is Driftjaw and he asks if we think the Verdent Pact will take him in. We think there is a chance and free him to turn himself over to them and offer his service.
We enter the caves and notice glowing mushrooms and a massive array of spider webs. Amadis sets the webs ablaise and we head further in. We reach a stream and we notice the trail of a large croc's belly sliding into the stream so we follow the tracks.
We carefully cross the first rickety bridge without much worry. The second bridge has a swarm of bees underneith. Fortunately, Nico sneaks up to the hive and cuts it free from the bridge, removing the threat. Tuff Cookie checks the integrity and determines the third bridge is in shambles and could not support our weight. Captain Karagatan takes out a laundry list of adventuring gear and the team builds bridge reinforcement to safely cross.
We see a whirlpool in the water as we cross the final bridge. We check for croc tracks, but do not see any. We decide to investigate this whirlpool. The Captain pulls out a block and tackle pully system with 200ft of rope, ties up Crazy Earl, and dips him down into the whirlpool. He notices an opening down there and yanks the rope to be pulled up. After sharing what he saw, we all dove into the center of the whirlpool to swim to the clearing.
After a couple minutes of dark, worried swimming, we make it to an air pocket. After a short breather, we swim the rest of the way to a cavern opening.
In the cavern, we see a ton of old dragon footprints. We also find a fresh croc belly trail and follow it. We begin hearing voices in the distance, so we snuff out our torches and stealth forward listening in.
Zythalithis (Young Green Dragon)
(A slow, satisfied hiss escapes its fanged maw.)
"At last, someone in these woods with vision. Most of these creatures cling to their roots and branches, afraid to embrace the inevitable. But you… you see the truth. This land is meant to change. To rot. To be reforged into something greater."
Drowned Covenant Leader (VUROX)
(Nods, water dripping from his armored form.)
"The old ways must drown, and the weak must follow. The Drowned One’s will is clear—the Whimsical Woods shall be consumed. And you, Dragon, will soar above it as its apex predator, untouchable in the sky while we command the depths."
Zythalithis (Green Dragon)
(Chuckles, his wings unfurling slightly.)
"A fair arrangement. And a profitable one. Your kind spreads the water, and with it, my domain will thrive. My Yuan-ti have long wished for a proper sanctuary… somewhere humid, veiled in mist, where we might rule without interruption. If your tide can grant me such a kingdom, I will gladly aid its rise."
We creep closer and see a large green dragon speaking with an even larger armored crocodile.
NOTE: We only moved our tokens into this scene for darkvision for photos. We were hidden in the tunnels North of here.
Vurox
"The rivers widen, the trees sink. Already, our waters reach further than ever before. But the Verdant Pact resists. And the predators of the Hunt still prowl the high ground. The time will come when they will have to be dealt with."
Zythalithis (Green Dragon)
(A low, pleased growl rumbles in his throat.)
"Then let it come. I have grown bored watching them cling to their dying forest. You, however… you offer motion. Change. The rise of the tide. I will lend my strength, my brood, and my venom. Together, we will suffocate the old ways beneath the weight of water and poison."
Then we hear cheers as several Yuan-ti emerge from the waters around the two of them.
Vurox: "So you will supply us with the gold?"
The Dragon agrees, mentioning its hoard of gold for payment.
The Yuan-ti begin to disburse, so we fall back and hide around the corner to jump them. As they come into view, Tuff Cookie throws out a Slow spell and we hurriedly brutalize before they could get a chance to alert the dragon and croc. We take them out silently.
Since we hear the dragon and croc continue to talk and we know the Yuan-ti were headed back to the dragon's horde to collect payment, we drag the dead bodies with us and loot the dragon's hoard.
Report End
The Whimsical Woods | S1 E2 : Whispers of the Verdant Pact
PARTY
Report Begins
The Steelhawks emerged from the tent after resting a full night in order to be greeted by the Elder Mossbloom and his companions and told the Steelhawks the following:
Elder Mossbloom: "You walk the paths of a land that does not belong to you. A land that breathes, that remembers. And while it may not reject you outright, it will test you. We have no desire to see more reckless hands disturb the balance of these woods."
Elder Mossbloom: "The Tidecaller fragment festers like an open wound. Its power has begun twisting the land, feeding those who seek dominion rather than harmony. We know where it lies, and we would see it removed from those who wield it in defiance of the natural order. But we will not allow you to simply take and leave destruction in your wake."
Elder Mossbloom: "So we offer you a pact. Not of blind trust, but of necessity."
Elder Mossbloom: "You will go where the fragment leads—no further, no deeper. You will not stray from the path we give you, nor take more than what is needed. The Woods will not suffer aimless explorers."
"You will not raise your weapons against us or against those who keep the balance. If you must fight, let it be against those who would see this land corrupted or broken."
"When your task is done, you will leave. The Whimsical Woods are not your hunting grounds, nor a prize to be claimed. The Stealhawks have no home here."
Elder Mossbloom: "Break this pact, and the Woods will turn against you. Honor it, and you may yet leave these lands with what you seek—and your lives."
Elder Mossbloom: "So. Do we have an accord?"
No sooner had they agreed to the Elder’s terms than a wolf approached, its steps quick and purposeful. The creature spoke of an imminent threat—Gorthak was on his way, and he was coming with a group of animals, all appearing battle-ready. Without hesitation, the Steelhawks followed the Elder to confront this new challenge.
When Gorthak arrived, he was as imposing as the legends described—clad in strength and wielding a mighty flaming sword that illuminated the dim forest. He wasted no time, turning his gaze on the Elder and immediately expressing his distrust of the Steelhawks. He called them trespassers and warned that they would bring about the forest’s destruction. It seemed his intent was to face them in battle, to defeat them and protect the woods from what he saw as an unwelcome force.
The Elder, calm and resolute, countered with assurance. He trusted the Steelhawks, he explained, and their mission was to rid the forest of the Tidecaller, the very plague that had been corrupting the land. He spoke with conviction, a steady voice in the face of Gorthak’s fiery challenge.
After a long, tense silence, Gorthak finally relented. Though his fiery sword still burned bright, he chose to trust the Elder’s words. He allowed the Steelhawks to continue their journey through the forest—but with one final warning. He would be watching them, testing them, every step of the way. Should they stray from their path or betray the trust placed in them, Gorthak would strike without hesitation.
With that, the mighty Gorthak departed, his fiery sword casting an ominous glow as he disappeared into the depths of the forest. The Steelhawks, now allowed to press forward, felt the weight of his gaze upon them, knowing their every move would be under scrutiny.
When They head back to the campsite the Steelhawks felt it best to ask the Elder about some information to look out for in this forest. The Elder told them the following about the inhabitants of the forest:
The Verdant Pact
"My own kin—the Verdant Pact—stand as shepherds of this place. We are keepers of the balance, healers of land and beast alike. We remember the old ways, when the trees were first stirred to wakefulness, when the winds whispered wisdom, and the rivers sang their songs. It is our duty to guide the forest, to mend the wounds left by those who take without care. And, when needed… we stand in defense of the wilds."
"But understand this, outsiders: even we are not endless in patience. The Pact welcomes those who respect the land—but woe to the trespasser who defiles it. The vines are swift, the roots unyielding, and the beasts do not forgive."
The Thundering Hunt
"Then, there is the Thundering Hunt. The sharp claw. The bared fang. They see not balance, but dominance. To them, strength is law, and the weak have no place beneath the canopy. Their kind—wolves, great cats, eagles of cruel talon—do not waste words on warnings. They do not ask, nor barter. They claim. And they kill."
"To the Hunt, you are either prey… or predator. If they mark you weak, they will chase you until breath fails and blood soaks the earth. If they mark you strong… they will test you, again and again, until you break or become one of them."
"And let me tell you this, wanderers: they have already seen you. From the moment you set foot in these woods, they have been watching. Stalking. Deciding."
The Other Denizens
"The forest is vast, and we are not the only ones who dwell within. There are smaller factions, scattered like seeds on the wind. Some are content to keep to themselves, tending to their hidden glades, their buried roots, their secret dens. Others… are less welcoming."
"Trespassers do not often receive kindness. Many will hide, choosing to let the unwary pass by unnoticed. But some? Some will strike before words can be spoken. The deeper you go, the fewer the friendly faces. Even the trees themselves may not welcome you."
The Drowned Covenant
"The Drowned Covenant ain't like the Verdant Pact. They don’t whisper to trees, don’t mend the land, don’t care for balance or beast or root. No… they serve only the flood. And their master? The tide itself."
"Brinefang leads ‘em. An old one. Ancient, even. Scales thick as stone, jaws strong enough to crack a boulder in two. He was a king of the swamp long ‘fore I hatched, long ‘fore any of us. But somethin’ changed when he found the Tidecaller’s fragment. Somethin’ deep. Now he don’t just hunt, don’t just rule—he dreams."
"He says the woods ain’t meant to stand. Says the waters are ‘rising to claim what’s theirs.’ Says the trees, the beasts, even the land itself gotta drown beneath the tide. And the worst part? He ain’t wrong ‘bout the power he’s got."
With the Elder’s directions in hand, the Steelhawks embarked down the path laid before them. As the journey continued, Captain Karagatan and Calla, with a bit of curiosity, decided to partake in some strange mushrooms they encountered along the way. The effects were swift and peculiar: Captain Karagatan’s eyes began to emit a thick, eerie mist, while Calla grew in size, towering over the others. The rest of the party wisely refrained from indulging in the fungi’s power.
The group soon found themselves in a clearing where the only way forward was a land bridge spanning a powerful, rushing river. As they cautiously approached the bridge, a most unexpected creature appeared—a large hippo, introducing himself as Bartholomew Bellowbanks. Bartholomew presented them with a choice: pay a hefty toll of 250 gold per person or face his riddles. Though Tucker, ever the brave soul, was eager to attempt the challenge, he found himself bewildered by the puzzles. Realizing the danger of dragging out the encounter, Farin managed to strike a deal with the hippo, lowering the fee to a mere 400 gold for the entire group, sparing them a potential fortune in gold.
The Steelhawks trudged on, their steps heavy with weariness as the hours passed. By nightfall, they arrived at another clearing. Exhausted and famished, they decided to set up camp, taking turns on the night watch to ensure safety. Captain Karagatan and Shawam stood the first watch, but the night passed without incident. Tucker took the second watch, and all remained peaceful.
However, during Naelen’s shift, things took an unexpected turn. As he sent Astra to one side to keep watch, wolves emerged from the shadows of the trees. The pack’s leader lunged at Naelen, but with quick thinking, he tossed some rations to distract the beast, causing it to retreat. Yet, another wolf closed in on him. It lunged with fury, but Naelen narrowly dodged the attack, the beast’s teeth snapping at air. Rather than striking back, Naelen chose to show restraint, feeling that to harm the creature would bring a grave consequence, as if the forest itself was testing his resolve. The wolf, sensing something beyond its reach, fled back into the woods.
The night remained uneventful after that, but Naelen's choice lingered in his mind, a reminder of the delicate balance between survival and respect for the natural world.
The night passed uneventfully after the tense encounter with Gorthak. The camp was quiet, the air still, and the Steelhawks managed to rest without further disruption. However, when dawn broke, a new challenge presented itself. The water levels had risen during the night, leaving the Steelhawks soaked and covered in murky, muddy waters. After cleaning themselves as best they could, they pushed forward, determined to continue their mission.
Their journey led them to an area where danger once again loomed. There, they encountered a Giant Toad Mage, standing tall and commanding with a staff, flanked by several Lizardfolk. The Steelhawks, uncertain of whether this was yet another trial set before them, hesitated at first, not wanting to make an unnecessary enemy. But the Elder, with a stern gaze, identified the cultists for what they truly were—devotees of the Tidecaller, protectors of the very force the Steelhawks had come to destroy.
Realizing the urgency of the situation, the Steelhawks engaged the cultists in battle. The Lizardfolk fought fiercely, but the Steelhawks, driven by their mission, swiftly dispatched them, clearing the way to continue their journey.
Not long after, the group moved on, only to find themselves facing yet another dangerous encounter. This time, a new threat awaited: another Toad Mage, accompanied by a giant snake and a few Crocodiles. The Toad Mage, with a hiss, whispered something to the snake before turning to leave. The words spoken were shrouded in mystery, but their meaning? That’s something the Steelhawks would have to uncover in the next chapter of their journey.
With the path ahead uncertain, the Steelhawks continued on, knowing the forest held more dangers and secrets yet to be revealed.
Report Ends
Supplementary Report | Ethan
Report Begins
In the twilight mists of the Whimsical Woods, where trees whisper ancient songs and moonlight drapes the forest floor in silvery hues, a fragment of power has appeared—the Tidecaller. Twisted and foul, this shard of magic festers like rot in the roots of the land, corrupting what was once serene.
Amid this enchanted wilderness, the Steelhawks stir from their makeshift forest camp, cradled by nature’s unlikely guardians. Their tents lie nestled beneath the watchful gaze of Whisper, a colossal owl with feathers like drifting snow. The ground pulses with life around them—Dirtjaw, a brooding sentient alligator lounges in the shallows; Sundancer, a noble white tiger whose stripes glow faintly in the morning light, prowls silently nearby. Towering awakened trees, delicate dryads, and the stoic Alabaster Tree stand as sentinels, forming a sacred perimeter. All are bound to a common cause: shielding the Steelhawks from the corrupted beasts who stalk the forest—feral, sentient carnivores who hunger not for food, but for blood.
Just as the Steelhawks begin to gather their gear and steel their minds for what lies ahead, the forest itself seems to hush. From the shadowed brush, a presence steps forth, massive and majestic—Elder Mossbloom, a towering, antlered giant elk crowned with woven vines and flowers that shimmer with dew. His voice is not spoken, but felt—deep and resonant, like wind through ancient canopies.
“You walk in a realm that remembers every footprint, every wound,” the Elder intoned gravely. “This land does not reject you, but it does not trust you. The fragment you seek—the Tidecaller—wounds us. It bends the woods, feeds predators, poisons peace. You may help, but not without limits.”
A pact is laid bare—a fragile accord built not on friendship, but on necessity.
“You will follow the path we grant you—no more, no less. You will not plunder, you will not linger. You will not strike against the forest or its guardians. Do this, and you will be shielded. Betray us, and the woods will rise against you.”
The message is clear. The Tidecaller must be removed, but the Steelhawks walk a knife’s edge. They are guests in a land that watches, judges, and remembers.
With few words, the Steelhawks accept the pact. Not because they are welcome—but because the corruption must be stopped.
And so, with nature as both ally and warden, they set forth beneath the emerald canopy, bound by oath to follow the path toward the heart of the woods… and toward the fragment that threatens to unravel it all.
The pact had barely been sealed when a low growl stirred the wind. From the underbrush, a wolf emerged—not skulking or wild, but moving with purpose, each step echoing urgency.
Its eyes glinted with intelligence, its voice clear and commanding as it delivered a dire warning: Gorthak, the armored beast, the savage ape wielding flames and fury, was coming—and he was not alone.
From the tree line came the thunder of heavy footfalls. The ground trembled as Gorthak the Flametongue, an ape clad in thick, battle-worn plate, emerged from the shadows. His greatsword, wreathed in fire, hissed through the air like a serpent tasting blood. Behind him stood beasts of the wild—fierce and battle-ready—each a soldier under his primal command.
With a voice like grinding stone, Gorthak roared accusations: “You are trespassers. Intruders. The forest feels your weight, and it buckles. I smell the smoke of ruin on your boots.”
The Steelhawks stood firm, hands near hilts, tension high, but blades sheathed—for now. The wind stirred leaves like whispering spirits, and between the two forces stood the Elder, calm and unshaken.
The Elder’s voice was a balm against Gorthak’s fire. “The Steelhawks seek not to harm but to heal. Their steps are careful, and their purpose, just. If you must burn something, Gorthak, burn your doubts.”
A hush fell. The forest held its breath. Gorthak’s eyes narrowed, flame licking up his blade as if eager for blood. But after long, harrowing heartbeats, he relented. The fire dimmed—but did not die.
With a grunt and a final glare, Gorthak spoke: “I will permit your passage. But know this—every step, every choice, I will see. Should you stray, I will return. And next time, it won’t be with words.”
And then he turned, his flaming sword dragging behind like the tail of a comet, vanishing into the trees with his beastly retinue. His departure wasn’t peace—it was a promise.
The Steelhawks exhaled, the tension leaving their limbs but not their hearts. They returned to the camp beneath the canopy’s protective shroud, seeking counsel once more from the Elder.
Around the flickering firelight, they posed a simple question:
“What dangers lie ahead?”
The Elder's gaze turned to the stars filtering through the leaves. His voice, low and heavy with age, carried truth and warning in equal measure.
“This forest is ancient, and it remembers everything. There are guardians who slumber beneath root and stone. Tricksters who shift the path when you’re not looking. Spirits bound in bark and thorn, whispering secrets best left unheard. Tread lightly. Trust the trees—but never blindly. And if you hear the wind sing your name, do not answer.”
The fire crackled, casting shadows that looked far too alive.
Steelhawk International had earned their path forward—but in this forest, every step would be a test.
Through the tangled boughs and emerald mists of the Whimsical Woods, the Steelhawks pressed forward, their boots slick with dew and their breath fogging in the cool, enchanted air. The birdsong had grown hushed—replaced by the distant roar of rushing water, a thunderous promise of a challenge ahead.
They emerged into a sunlit clearing, where a land bridge, narrow and ancient, spanned a mighty river swollen with magical currents. The waters below churned with untamed force, as though the forest itself sought to sweep away any who dared cross unworthy.
Before they could step upon the moss-slick stone, a form emerged, round and regal, with an umbrella tucked under one arm and a monocle perched over one glinting eye. A massive hippopotamus in a velvet waistcoat stood proudly at the bridge's edge.
"Halt!" he bellowed in a voice like rolling thunder. "You stand before Bartholomew Bellowbanks, Warden of the River Span and Master of the Mental Maze."
With a courteous bow, Bartholomew offered the travelers a choice: pay a hefty toll—250 gold apiece—or face the trial of riddles, a battle not of sword and flame, but of wits and wisdom.
Tucker, eager and undaunted, stepped forward, ready to prove his cleverness—but the riddles twisted and turned like the currents below. He faltered, caught in the whirlpool of Bartholomew’s logic.
Sensing the danger of delay, Farin stepped in, voice calm as stone. Through diplomatic grace and clever negotiation, she struck a deal: a reduced toll of 400 gold for the entire group, saving them a fortune—and possibly their pride.
The Steelhawks marched onward, each step burdened by fatigue and the weight of the forest’s watching silence. Their journey carved through ancient undergrowth and tangled roots, the sun a distant memory behind the ever-thickening canopy. By nightfall, the mists gave way to a moonlit clearing—a temporary sanctuary amidst the wild unknown.
There, the party collapsed into the rhythms of camp life. Karagatan and Shawam took first watch, their eyes sharp beneath the stars. The night whispered with wind and memory, but nothing stirred. Tucker, ever alert, patrolled through the second watch, and all remained still.
But the quiet did not last.
As the torch of vigilance passed to Naelen, the forest breathed differently. From the edge of the shadows, wolves emerged, ghostlike and predatory. One lunged without warning, its fangs flashing in the moonlight. Naelen reacted not with blade, but with wisdom—casting his precious rations into the darkness. The lead wolf, confused by the offering, withdrew... but another leapt forth, claws raking and teeth snapping. With grace, Naelen dodged, his breath steady despite the rush of adrenaline.
Yet still, he did not strike.
Something ancient held his hand, as if the forest itself waited and watched. To draw blood here, he felt, might summon more than just howls. His restraint was met with understanding. The wolf paused... then vanished into the trees, leaving behind silence and the echo of a lesson unspoken.
The rest of the night was calm—Gorthak’s ominous presence never returned—and dawn arrived cloaked in fog and damp. But with light came another obstacle: the swamp’s slow rise had flooded their camp. The Steelhawks awoke soaked and chilled, the muck clinging to their armor like a second skin. With grim resolve, they cleaned what they could and pressed forward into the mist.
Somewhere along the way, a peculiar squirrel began to follow Captain Karagatan, chittering curiously. Whether omen or oddity, none could say, but the squirrel refused to leave his side.
It wasn’t long before danger found them once more.
Through a clearing heavy with dew and foreboding, a Giant Toad Mage emerged, flanked by snarling Lizardfolk zealots, their eyes wild with devotion. The Steelhawks hesitated, uncertain—were these strangers allies, watchers, or simply lost souls?
Then the Elder stepped forward, his gaze piercing through illusion and lies. “Tidecaller cultists,” he said coldly. “Their loyalty lies with the corruption.”
That was all the Steelhawks needed.
Swords were drawn, spells cast, and steel clashed with scale. Though the Lizardfolk fought with savage fervor, they could not withstand the Steelhawks’ unified assault. The clearing was soon quiet again, stained with the proof of victory.
Yet fate gave no rest.
Further ahead, through twisting vines and deep pools, another Toad Mage awaited—this one accompanied by a massive serpent and lurking crocodiles. The creature raised a webbed hand, speaking in a guttural whisper to the snake before slinking into the mist. The words were unintelligible, but their weight lingered—a threat, a curse, a warning.
What did it mean?
The Steelhawks had no answer—only purpose.
The forest remains vast, dark, and filled with malice, but the Steelhawks walk it with a promise in their hearts. Elder Mossbloom entrusted them with a sacred task: to purge the Tidecaller’s corruption, no matter how deep its roots run.
There will be more beasts.
More trials.
More whispers in the dark.
But the Steelhawks will not falter.
The forest ahead loomed like a slumbering titan—shrouded in mist, veiled in shadow, and steeped in ancient mystery. Its twisted paths whispered secrets older than memory, and the promise of danger lingered in every rustling leaf.
More beasts may rise. More fangs may bare. The Steelhawks know this well—that tooth and claw may yet test their resolve.
But they will not falter.
For they have sworn an oath to Elder Mossbloom, an ancient pact carved in honor and bound in purpose:
To purge the Tidecaller’s corruption, to cleanse the wilds of its rot, and to restore the balance long disturbed.
No darkness, no predator, no force of nature will turn them from that path.
They are Steelhawks—and they endure.
What waits ahead is the Tidecaller and its cultists intending to stop the Steelhawks from fulfilling their oaths.
Perhaps in the next part of their journey, they're going to meet more lizard cultists, toad casters that can will and summon snakes that are ready to ambush the Steelhawks. But the ultimate Challenge is Gorthak the ape with the flametongue ready to cut into us and burn us from the insides.
Report Ends
The Whimsical Woods | S1 E1 : Into the Whimsical Woods
PARTY
Report Begins
Mission Report: Into the Whimsical Woodlands
Operative: Roulette Diyods
Team: Steelhawk Mercenaries
Mission Location: Whimsical Woodlands, east of the Voiceless Waste, and north of the Corrupted Blightlnds
Not all missions start with blood and steel. Some start with a friend doing his tongue-in-cheek impression of a female mercenary company Commander and sending us off on a scavenger hunt for a powerful artifact.
This time, it was Jeremiah giving us our briefing, and he did it in style—projecting illusions of Lagertha herself as he explained our job. We were to track down a missing piece of the Tidecaller, a broken artifact of significant magical power. The tracker he gave us would lead the way.
Step one: Get to the search area. That meant teleporting to the Corrupted Blightlands—not exactly a place known for warm welcomes.
The moment we arrived, we met our transport: a group of pirates. The kind with knives, suspicious smiles, and a ship hidden by illusion. They rowed us out, gave us their version of friendly warnings, and landed us on a beach of the lands they called 'The Green Hell'. Tachanka almost called them 'Thieves on the water'.... to their faces, no less!... but we headed off that disaster, thank goodness.
According to them, most who enter the Whimsical Woodlands don’t come back.
Great. That just meant we had to be better than “most.” Great great great great great.
We moved inland, following the tracker’s pull, and reached a river with a bridge. Problem was, the bridge wasn’t real. I didn't know- I flew on Vlad the Impatient out over the river to cover the group.
Tachanka, ever the law-abiding problem-solver, tested it by throwing an axe. The axe fell through the illusion and splashed into the river below.
No bridge, no problem. We found another way across: Vlad the Impatient was a good boy, yes he was! He helped me ferry a few across- some jumped, some flew, and we bypassed the hazard.
Oh! I almost forgot the whole team composition! We had Thalia (ranger and beast tamer), Arletta (fighter new to the steelhawks, seems to prefer longbow), Tachanka (cleric of light and very law-oriented), Chorkva (circle of stars druid), Elwynd (wizard, also new to the Steelhawks), and me, Roulette.
Anywho, on the other side of the brisk river, we encountered a fox. Or rather, a talking fox. It slinked out of invisibility up in a tree, all charm and sly promises, offering to “maybe” help us—for a price.
Turns out, that price was leading us straight into an ambush, but that came later. Elwynd gave him 20 or 30 gold, even after he said he didn't warn us about the bridge to see if someone fell in!... then he 'led' us further into the Whimsical Woodlands.
We made camp for the night. Tachanka took a tent, put a glyph of warding on it, and sacked out. We took watches; I think Thalia stood the first one. The moment we let our guard down, they struck. The Thundering Hunt—a clan of talking beasts, strong, coordinated, and damn deadly.
A bear berserker came roaring in like an avalanche, raging, reckless... weird. An ape fighter with precise strikes followed close behind. Owl spellcasters rained down druidic and ranger magic. And just to make it more fun, two direwolves flanked us. It was a brutal fight.
Tachanka’s Glyph of Warding went off when a direwolf pounced on his tent- with him still inside- catching most of us in the blast. He meant well. But good intentions don’t stop singed eyebrows, and ultimately it turned out to be something we could file under 'bad planning'.
I went up a tree after getting mauled by the bear, and Elwynd was nearly eviscerated.
Despite that, we held our ground. Thalia and Arletta rained arrows, Chorkva and Elwynd wielded magic, and I let my crossbows do the talking while Tachanka kept us from bleeding out on the forest floor. The beasts were strong, but they weren’t invincible. One by one, they fell. But... the fact that these 'large critters' had characteristics recognizable to various of my adventuring colleagues was really interesting.
Side note; they talked, cast spells, had barbarian and druid and fighter training... were these once as we were, changed by the Woods, or something in it? Or is it something else, races like the Mapach? I have no idea, but... we ought to know. Priority to keep track of, for whoever's next on the mission, 'kay?
Anywho, in the fight, the victory was eventually ours, but the forest had other plans than a good night sleep.
They shifted, twisted, and boxed us in, like the very forest was trying to swallow us. Then, from the shadows, stepped something ancient.
A giant talking elk.
Elder Mossblossom
He introduced himself as Elder Mossblossom of the Verdant Pact. And he wasn’t alone—more of his kin lurked beyond the trees, watching. Judging.
We didn’t fight this time. We talked- there was something about him that warranted a bit of trust... and frankly, we couldn't afford enemies every step of the way in these lands, not if we want eventual success here.
And, anywho, we told him why we were there—the Tidecaller fragment, the artifact’s potential power, and the fact we were after it. He listened, then gave us some surprising intel: "The Tidecaller fragment is known to us. Once, it had been part of a temple at one point, but now?
Now the artifact piece was being used to expand swamplands, corrupting nearly 500 acres of the Whimsical Woodlands to this point!"
So, here's the really important part: we might have an ally, but we're going to have to work at it. Elder Mossbloom brought us to where his folk are to bed down for the night.
There was an alligator crocodile--- hey, did you know how to tell the difference between them? One you see later, the other you see after a while! Um, where was I?
Oh, right; a crocodile, a giant toad, a few animate trees, a giant owls, a giant tiger, all talking, giving greetings, and welcoming us with something other than an attack.
(Jeremiah would've been tripping balls.)
So, in the morning we'll get down to brass tacks, talking about what we can do to move forward, and to see if we can ally here.
We could deffo use more intel about who might be using the Tidecaller fragment to destroy forests, to know what we might be going up against. we need reliable allies here, natives who know the terrain and the hazards; this Verdant Pact and Elder Mossbloom seem like nearly ideal candidates we need to have competent negotiators to solidify a deal wherein we all benefit: we get the Tidecaller piece, they get rid of something hurting their forest.
But I really want to know what's up with all these intelligent, and adventurer-skilled animals!
Roulette