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Secrets of Shadow

The Godof the Dell

Product Tie-In: None

Author: Iain J. Brogan

Beware the whisperings in the dark. When you feel

the shiver up your spine as you step onto the dusty road,

for the sake of your life and your sanity, listen to it. For

at the end of that road is the Dell, and that which lies at

the center of it is hungry . . .

The God of the Dell is a fearful glimpse into the

warped hamlet of Greengages-in-the-Leigh, a once-

peaceful community that has somehow escaped the pre-

dations of the Shadow. What could possibly keep the min-

ions of the dark lord at bay but something that is darker than they? This setting material is appropriate for GMs

who want to run a mystery or horror-style one-off adven-

ture, whether for Midnight or another campaign.



MIDNIGHT SUPPLEMENT

The God ofthe DellMaely twisted the thr ead at the end of the shawl

until the finger about which she wound it becamebloodless and white. White as her drawn, tear-stained face. She hardly noticed; the pain in her finger was

nothing compared to the pain in her heart and the fear that grew within her like a consuming flame. They had taken him. She knew it to be true. They had taken her baby from her and laid him in the Old Place; downwith the roots and the slithering things. She knew it tobe true because she had let them do it.

Her mind skittered away from the painful memory, which festered like an infected wound,

pouring its corrupting poison onto her soul. But she forced herself to look, to remember. . .

That night on the hill, the wind whipped throughthe trees in eerie accompaniment to the fiddles and drums as the villagers danced within the circle of

stones. Their faces, lit by the flames of the bonfire,were flushed with mead and carousing. Though thesewere her kin, they seemed suddenly like strangers; wild

and frightening and full of lust. She couldn’t ever remember the festival being like this. But then, this year she had not drunk of the sacred brew. She had takenthe chalice when it was passed to her, but in truth shehad been afraid that the strange tasting potion might spoil her milk, and little Aealan was always so hungry.

So, with a guilty heart, she had disobeyed the laws of tradition and only pretended to quaff the draft.

She smiled at the thought of her sweet babe, and

was nearly lost in the wave of anguish that followed.She whispered his dear sweet name and felt a chasm of anguish open beneath her, threatening annihilation, promising oblivion. Maely suppressed the urge to let it

take her and forced herself to look at the memory again – she must be sure that they had lied, she must know

the truth that was hidden in her mind before she could summon the courage to flee this cursed place.

The familiar-strange figures danced about her,their smiles feral in the glow of the fire. They beckoned her to join them, but she just shook her head and buried her face in the swaddled babe to hide the confusion and

discomfort that suddenly claimed her. ‘Foolish!’ She

told herself. These were her kin. They meant her noharm. With foolishness fleeing before her rebuke, her

heart slowed its frantic pace and Aealan settled moreeasily at the teat as he felt his mother relax. That waswhen she saw Elsma. Maely’s eyes seemed suddenlydrawn to where the old priestess sat – her grandmother

by marriage now, she remembered in some detached corner of her mind. Elsma was a shrivelled old womanwrapped in her habitual threadbare shawl. She seemed all skin and bones, and the angular shapes beneath her clothes gave her the fragile appearance of a bird.Maely imagined she must weigh no more than a bundle

of twigs. As she met Elsma’s eyes, all thoughts of frailness fled and her blood ran cold. Maely could not break the old woman’s stare to comfort the baby, whohad begun to cry; the light of her eyes was like thewitch lights of the Myr Fen: bewitching and terrifying;undeniable, and filled with the horrors of the grave.Maely was frightened. She knew! The old witch knew

that she hadn’t drunk from the golden chalice. And the fact that the old woman knew filled Maely with anunspeakable dread. Aealan’s wail broke the spell and she clutched her baby tightly to her breast, making hushing noises and rocking him, he as much a comfort to her as she to him. It was time to go.

As Maely stood, she realised the music had

stopped and the crowd, barely recognisable as her kin,was staring at her. Panic mounted and her legs and

arms felt weak. When a bony hand grasped her arm from behind, Maely screamed and merciful darknesstook her.

When she had awoken, she had been alone. Her heart leapt into her throat as vague memories of thenight before were pushed aside by a mother’s concern

for her child. Rushing to the crib, she found her worst nightmares confirmed – empty. Wracking sobs shook her frame and she felt she must be sick. Running fromthe room, Maely ran into the strong, bear-like arms of her husband 's father. He crushed her to his chest, therough hairs of his great black beard pressing into her

scalp, and his uncommon tenderness told her that her world must be at an end.

They had told her she had taken too much ale

and fallen ill, the baby had fallen and struck its head

before anyone could reach him. Poor Aealan had not seen the sun rise in the morning and they had buried him in the Old Place. No one blamed her, they said. It

Secrets 1: The God of the Dell by Iain J. Brogan



wasn’t her fault. She was still weak after the birth and they should have taken more care of her. But theywould not let her see the body. Would not let her joinher son in the darkness beyond that horrid maw. But it

did not matter; it was all lies. All of it lies. She had failed her son only by succumbing to terror, and they

had taken him from her. As grief and anger washed away the poison of the memory, Maely knew that it wascleansed for the moment and that she should act while she had strength and clarity. Shaking, she stood up

from her bed and placed the few meagre possessionsthat she could call her own into a rough sack, and

prepared to leave the farmstead she had so recentlycalled home.

As Maely moved across the rushes to the door, arustling sound reached her ahead of a charnel stench,and she felt terror seize her limbs.

“You’re a strong little wifey; fit for the man-blood of our family, yes?” Behind her, the skeletal formof Elsma emerged from the shadows , her bony handsquick despite her venerable bearing. Grasping Maely’s

hair in a painful grip of astonishing strength, the old woman threw the younger to the ground and leapt atopher. Maely could feel the hard bones of the crone' slimbs through her sack-cloth shift dress, and even as fear strangled her voice and paralysed her limbs shewonder ed at the strength and agility of such a frail,

meatless old hag.

“Thinking of leaving us , were you dearie?”

Maely could do naught in answer but stare in abject terror; for instead of the liver-spotted skin of Elsma’s

age- shrivelled face, a fleshless skull stared at her instead, with eyes that were twin points of baleful light.Strips of leathery flesh and clumps of matted hair adorned the yellowing surface of the skull, which,

impossibly, acted in all other ways like a normal head;talking with Elsma’s hateful voice and even imitating the bird-like movements that characterised the old woman. Maely opened her mouth to scream, her fear finally transcending into sound, but the dead thing atopher was quicker still. It placed one skeletal hand on

her mouth while the other locked around her throat , a vicious grip that stopped the air before it could leaveher lungs.

“Ah! Hush my pretty. No screaming , dearie. Wedon’t want to upset the others, yes? T hey mustn’t knowthe truth. Yesss?” The skull cocked to one side in itsbird-like way and regarded the stricken girl for amoment. “But you guess something of the truth now,

don’t you dearie. Tsk! That will not do. How shall wekeep our little secret then , my pretty?” The answer was soon to come; the hand around her throat released itshold , only to be replaced seconds later by the hag’s shins cutting into Maely’s collar bone and her knees squeezing tightly about her throat. “I’ll not have loose

tongues wagging , dearie. Oh no!” the skeletal hag cackled, and with a blade drawn from somewhere in

the folds of the rotting garment it wore, the creature cut out the organ that threatened to betray them all .

Beginning at the End of theRoad

The Glarims have lived on the old farmsteadthat lies at the end of the road from Greengages-in-the-Leigh for longer than anyone can remember. Once,

they owned all the surrounding lands, including thevillage itself, but such things mean little in the Last

Age. Now the family keep to themselves; except at theFeast of Thank-Offering or when the dead need to passon. Then, all the villagers and folk from thesurrounding farms gather at the stones in Glarim’sWood to placate the hoary old god of the dell and beseech his blessing for the coming year and to watch

over the dead.

To be more precise, the Glarims have lived in

the region of Greengages-in-the-Leigh for nigh on 450years, twelve generations stretching back to Iroril

Glarim out of Highwall.Iroril Glarim was a travelling man, a simple

peddler who put on airs and called himself a merchant.But it was in the backwaters of Erenland where he pliedhis trade, mostly to the north of the Pellurian Sea, inlittle hamlets and farmsteads that saw few travellers. To

these poor folk, men like Iroril were an important link to the outside world and were accorded due respect.Whereas in more worldly places they might be drivenoff with sticks and stones as itinerant vagrants andvagabonds, in these backwaters the arrival of such asIroril was feted. Beyond the trinkets they brought to

sell (fine treasures to these simple folk ), they brought

news of the world beyond their fields, tales of princesand knights, courtly intrigues and events of greatmoment. In places such as Greengages-in-the-Leigh, aman like Iroril could earn a meal, a place to stay, andgifts he might sell at the next hamlet, all for just the

price of a few tales.

In his youth, Iroril Glarim wandered far andwide, selling his brick-a-brack at one village andtrading for small items that he could sell on at the next.He travelled far along the backroads and byways of thekingdom, visiting places that people in the cities andtowns probably didn’t know existed. It wasundoubtedly in one of these places, or somewhere in

between, that Iroril encountered that which doomedhim and his family yet to be.

In the late middle years of his life, Iroril Glarim

arrived in Greengages-in-the-Leigh at the end of Zimraarc. He was well known there, usually passing throughin early Obares on his way back to Highwall beforewinter, and so the villagers were surprised to see him

so early – Iroril’s visits were as regular as the seasons,and the folk of Greengages marked the approach of

Winter as much by his appearance as by the falling of the leaves and the chill of the night. Even moresurprising, Iroril arrived not on foot with his pack

almost empty, as was his usual custom, but on a wagon piled high with intriguing shapes covered beneathtarpaulin. Iroril greeted the surprised villagers with a

S ecrets 1: The God of the Dell by Iain J. Brogan



broad smile, and shocked them again by proclaimingthat he intended to settle the land up by the old woodand farm it. The villagers were thrilled, having always

liked the traveller and his courteous ways, but a littledisappointed that their main conduit to the outsideworld, and its wares and news, was gone.

Iroril bought his land from the local lord, anoble who lived miles distant, and who cared not a whitfor the desolate backwater. The lord was pleased toreceive gold for this otherwise unproductive land and

asked no questions as to the source of the strange coins,which seemed to shine with a beguiling light thatseemed to promise even greater riches. So it was thatthe lands of Greengages-in-the-Leigh and all thosesurrounding passed to Iroril Glarim who went in asingle night from itinerant peddler to landowner. Thevillagers helped Iroril build a fine farmstead and

prepare the land for sowing come Dorsham. Thatwinter, the folk of Greengages hosted their new lord,

and at the Festival of the Day of the Sun, celebratingthe end of one year and the beginning of the next, Iroriltook Orma Hengal as his wife.

The God of the Dell

The arcs passed into years, and Orma gave Irorila daughter they called Annica and, a year later, a sonthey called Helver. Iroril proved to be a gentle lord,

asking nothing of his people but their friendship, and bythe time Annica celebrated her third nameday, Irorilhad been fully accepted into the village as one of itsown.

Greengages-in-the-Leigh continued its quietexistence, forgotten by the rest of the kingdom for some time. Eventually, though, darker times visitedthis peaceful little hamlet. Crops began to fail or were

stricken with blight, deaths during the lambing season became so frequent that the flock was in danger of dying out. Ill weather and dark tidings plagued the landand the rare traveller who found the village after losinghis way in the storms spoke of movement in the North.The old men of the village nodded their heads with

grim expressions, for they had all heard the tales of old,even if such were legends even when they were lads. Itwas during one such storm that a stranger came to theGlarim farmstead, by-passing the hamlet altogether.Heavily cloaked against the inclement weather, herefused to enter the farmstead, and instead spoke with

Iroril under the meagre shelter of the porch. Of thestranger’s voice the family heard nothing, but Iroril’srose and fell in what they took for anger, and then fear.However, the fury of the storm carried away the words’meaning and the family were left to cower inignorance, wondering what ill fortune had come to their door. When Iroril returned to the house, his eyes were

dark, his skin pale, and the hair that had been mostly black with streaks of gray when he had stepped outside had turned white as a winter field. Iroril madehis family swear upon their lives that they would never in fear of their lives mention the stranger’s visit to

another living soul, and they were afraid for they hadnever seen such fierceness – and terror – in their husband and father.

Some days later, Iroril called the villagers

together and told them that at the height of the storm hehad been visited by an old god who dwelt in the woods

near to his farm. The god, he said, was angered that thevillagers did not honor him; that the god’s displeasurewas why their fortunes had worsened in recent years. None could credit what they heard, for they all knew

the gods were long gone from Eredane, except for thedark spirit who dwelt in the frozen north and who mustnot be named. The ancestors were the only spirits theyhonoured, as did all the men of the north in that timeand since time immemorial.

Iroril beseeched his people to trust him, warningthat if they did not honor the god of the dell then theywould all be lost. It is testament to the respect in which

Iroril was held that they begrudgingly agreed to go withhim and see this god for themselves. Iroril led them

into the woods to a ring of ancient stones that stoodamongst willows in a shaded dell. The villagers weremuch surprised at this place, having neither seen nor heard of the stones before. Iroril led them in a dance

widdershins about the circle and they left gifts of berries and bread. They even cut the throat of one of

Iroril’s goats at the foot of the largest menhir, whichstood at the northernmost edge of the ring.

The next day, the skies cleared and therefollowed a glorious summer through which the cropsflourished and the flocks and herds swelled in size with

no deaths at the birthing or disease to plague them. Allof the villagers were convinced of Iroril’s god, and asthe seasons turned, it seemed to the folk of Greengages-

in-the-Leigh that all was well with the world oncemore. Then winter arrived and Hodin Tiller died,caught beneath the hooves of his plough mare.

Eyes of theAncestors

The rural Dorns of Iroril’s time, like

countless generations before them, would makecrude figures from clay taken from the clan’s landsand ash gathered from the funeral pyre of thedeceased. The children would gather small white

pebbles – worn perfectly smooth by the wind andrain – that they believed were fragments of their

ancestors’ souls. These were placed as eyes in theheads of the mannequins to give them sight in the physical realm. The clay figures were typically

placed within a small shrine, usually an alcove bythe hearth, where they could watch over the living

and protect them from harm.

Such figurines, or even fragments of one,

are often minor or lesser charms. Very old ancestor

figures are greater or even true charms.




Where the Dead Shall Lie

As Hodin’s grieving family prepared him for the journey to the ancestor stones out on Endell Hill, Iroril

appeared at the door and bade them not to take the body there lest they anger the hoary old god of the dell

and curse them all. Iroril beseeched the Tillers toinstead place Hodin within the Old Place, where thegod would watch over him even as Hodin watched over his family. To this the family could not be persuaded , and great furor erupted in the village.

One man asked, “How can you ask us to give up

our customs and traditions so?” To which, Irorilreplied, “Have my words not proven true in the past?

Why then should I mislead you in such a matter?”

“What of the Fell?” Another clamoured. Irorilreplied, “The god of the dell will sooth Hodin’s spirit,no dead thing will walk under His auspices.” And so

the arguments went back and forth until the sun had setlow and all feared that if something were not soondone, then Hodin’s corpse might leap up from his bed

and lay them all low. Eventually, Iroril won over themajority and, with deep misgivings, a procession madeits way to the dell and the circle of ancient stones.Beyond that tangled ring lay a hill beneath which wasthe Old Place of which Iroril had spoken.

Entrance to the Old Place was gained by an

ancient dolmen set into the side of the hill. Iroril toldthe villagers that in times gone by, their people had

buried the dead in such places rather than burning themin the rings of ancestor stones as was now the practice.Of this, the villagers were not sure, but beyond the pock marked stones of the dolmen, a tunnel of workedstone led back into the hill, giving onto a low cave inwhose walls, alcoves had been cut. Each niche was the

length of a man and deep as a man was wide: stone beds for the dead. The people were amazed that noneamongst them had stumbled across this place before,nor heard of it or anything like it. They all agreed itmust have been hidden by the god’s magic and despitetheir misgivings, at Iroril’s urging they laid poor Hodin

to rest in one of the niches.

Not all of the villagers had accompanied Iroril to

the ancient tomb. There were those who refused toabandon the old ways and disrespect the ancestors; theyreturned to their homes where they shortly meet aterrible fate. As the funeral procession entered the dell,a band of orcs that had slipped past the Fortress Walldescended upon the hamlet. They slaughtered every

one they found and piled their carcasses at the centre of the village before setting the houses aflame and ridingforth. Returning to this carnage, the surviving villagerswere stricken and turned to Iroril in great fear. The oldman calmed them, saying “The god of the dell can not protect those who do not put their trust in him, but He

will surely protect us from a fate such as this. Come,

we must bury these, our unfortunate friends, withHodin so that they may gain forgiveness in the god’sembrace.”

True to Iroril’s word, the fortunes of the village began to improve after that terrible day. Neither Hodinnor any of the slaughtered returned as Fell to take

revenge on the village for being denied the funeral fire.From that point on, the folk of Greengages embracedIroril’s teachings with little further resistance and the

old peddler grew into his role as spiritual leader. Ormaand his children aided Imoril in this, becoming hisacolytes and helping him tend to the dell where the

hoary old god dwelt amongst the stones.

As Obares gave way to Hanud, Iroril was alonein the ring of stones, listening for words the god mightwhisper. Hearing none, he abandoned his vigil and prepared to make his way home. Iroril’s mind was preoccupied with thoughts of a stormy night long agoand half-remembered promise made in a rocky vale far to the north and long ago. So it was that Iroril was

startled to find his wife, Orma, standing beside the tallnorth stone of the circle. She wore little more than a

nightgown, spun from the pure white wool of their veryown sheep, and the night was cold. A bitter wind blewfrom the north, penetrating even the willow-sheltereddell and promising a cruel winter ahead. When Orma

said nothing to explain her appearance and attire, Irorilfeared she had sickened and was wandering indelirium. He spoke softly to her, “Orma my love, whydo you stand in the cold with naught but a shift uponyou?”

Her voice, when it came, was like the rasp of iron across stone, “You fool! You think your petty

offerings of beasts and oats can appease the great god?

Shocked at her words and her tone, Iroril couldonly stammer “My love! What do you say?”

“This was not the bargin you made, youweakling fool! It is time for a new master to take your

place!” And with an unholy scream, Orma launchedherself at her husband, gouging out his eyes with nailssuddenly long and black and hard as iron. Her teethripped out his throat and the bright red blood gushedinto her mouth and down her chin onto theunblemished white of her nightgown. As she dragged

his twitching body from the circle of ancient stonestowards the dark maw of the Old Place, the air seemedto hum with power ; beneath the dark earth, a thing

stirred from sleep.

In the shadows on the far side of the circle, four eyes watched the end of Iroril and the fall of Orma.

Two belonged to a young girl, barely twelve, the perfect blend of her mother and father’s features. She

watched, silent and unmoving, as one parent murderedthe other , and only smiled as her mother suckedgreedily at her father’s throat. The other pair of eyeswere hidden in a deep cowl worn by a figure standingclose beside the girl, with its hand upon her shoulder.As the girl’s parents disappeared into the dark woods,

the hand tightened its grip and the cowl moved close toAnnica’s ear. What was said, even the wind did nothear, but in response, the girl’s eyes narrowed and,slowly, she nodded her head.




With Iroril gone, Orma emerged from mourningwith the fervour of one blessed. She vowed that shewould lead the people as her husband had, and

reassured them that the god of the dell had not desertedthem in their time of need. Her words proved true asthe winter was less harsh than it had promised to be,

and when the spring came early, the lambing was better than ever before.

Twice Slain, King of the Stones

Orma’s reign as Priestess of the Stones wasshort-lived, but while she ruled in the mossy dell she

introduced a ritual that has continued to this day. In thehelia before the Feast of Thank-Offering, traditionally

held at the end of Zimra arc to celebrate the year’sharvest and beseech the ancestor spirits for protectionthrough the dark winter, Orma called her people to agathering in the dell. There she revealed the hoary old

god’s desire for his people to hold their festivitieswithin his sacred circle. Turning to the miller, Doogan

Dray, the priestess announced that he had been chosento preside over the celebration and that he was to becrowned King of the Stones for the day. Now Dooganhad been Iroril’s most vocal detractor since the

massacre of years before when he had lost his wife, butOrma’s words effectively quashed any objection he

might have been about to raise. It was widely held thatthe miller’s girth was exceeded only by his self-opinion, and such an obvious honor fanned his egolike Orma’s brother’s bellows fanned the fire of hisforge.

On the last day of Zimra, the whole villagegathered at the stones in the sacred dell. Young Annica,now a fair maiden grown, carried a golden chalice from

one member of the community to the next; each wasasked to drink of the god’s bounty that they might sharein his strength in the coming winter. The solemn procession ended with fat Doogan, who drunk deeply atAnnica’s urging. Then Orma crowned his head with acircle wrought from rowan, the wood still resplendent

with red berries that glistened in his black hair likedrops of blood. As the crown touched Doogan’s head,young Helver struck up on a fiddle and the feasting began with much merriment. Even Doogan smiled and

could find no ill word to say, flattered by Annica’sconstant attentions and indeed treated like a king.

The feasting was lavish beyond memory: fatted

pig and roast mutton; oat cakes and rye bread; frothingale and sweet cider from the previous year’s apples.Those who could play struck up a carousing tune ontheir instruments while the villagers danced with areckless abandon that did not seem strange or out of place. As the sun slipped into the west and the moonrose gibbous in the sky, the festivities reached a frenzy

that would have alarmed any traveller happening uponthem in those dark woods. No one noticed as the Glar-im women led Doogan beyond the light of the firethat burned fiercely at the center of the stone circle; and

no one heard them club the fat man to death with heavysticks and sharp stones.

The next day, after the villagers awoke in afleshy tangle that took no heed of marital bonds, they

gathered their clothes and hurried back; the folk refused to meet each others' eyes until a few days later

when someone thought to enquire about the Miller’swhereabouts – Doogan lived alone in the mill since thedeath of his wife, and having no children that hadsurvived to adulthood. When they searched the woods,

they found no sign of him. But curiously, theydiscovered that the portal into the Old Place was blocked by a great slab of stone that must have takensix strong men to move. Orma Glarim said that it wasthe god’s will that the dead not be disturbed by theliving and He had clearly taken steps to assure this wasso. Of Doogan, she said that they had seen no sign

since the morn following Thank-Offering. And thoughno other could remember having seen him that day,

they dared not question the dark-eyed woman and, intruth, thought it quite possible they had missed seeingthe miller in their embarrassed haste to get home. Onchecking the mill, they found it locked and vacated,

neatly cleared as though the miller had left Greengageswith the intention never to return.

* * *

In the darkness of the Old Place, the fat man’seyes shot open. His mouth was stuffed with foul tastingrags and his limbs bound with thick hemp rope. The air was chill and smelled of damp earth, cold rock , anddead things. Somewhere in the darkness, a scraping

sound drew closer, like old leather sacks full of grain being pulled across stone. The fat man’s eyes bulgedwith fear and he thrashed in the confines of the narrow

niche in which he lay. He struggled to free his hands, but succeeded only in cutting his flesh with theabrasive fibres, though curiously he felt no pain from it.He still could not see, and when something sinuous and

covered with slime brushed over his face in the dark,the fat man began to scream.

By the Daughter’ s Hand

The first Feast of Thank-Offering held in the

stones of the Glarim wood was also Orma’s last. On thezenith of Halail, when traditionally the children of thesouthern lands attempt their soba, or “breakingceremony” as they come of age, the Priestess of the

Stones was found dead in her bed. The sheets weretwisted tightly about her body and her favourite cupmade from Bastion pottery was broken where it hadfallen to the floor. Olma’s mouth and nose were filled with blood, but a lack of signs of any violence ledthe local herb woman, Elga Thory, to conclude that she

had died of the apoplexies – those violent fits caused by blood clotting in the brain, which often came to folk intheir twilight years. She smiled sadly at Olma’s two

grown children who must succeed her, but quickly leftupon seeing Annica’s face.

S ecrets 1: The God of the Dell 5 by Iain J. Brogan



When the funeral procession reached the OldPlace, Garick Dale and his five brothers ready with iron bars and rope, they found the way open and the dark of

the portal beckoning them in. Speaking in a quiet voicethat could not be denied, Annica told them that the godspoke to her now, and had decreed that only the chosen

were allowed entry into the tomb. She named four men,her brother among them, and together they proceededwith her mother into the dark. She instructed the men to

leave the body on the floor just inside the door, then bade them leave her. Annica’s tone brooked noargument and they quickly left the priestess to her mysteries.

After they had gone, Annica knelt close to her dead mother, and as she bound her limbs tightly withthick rope and placed a heavy cloth in her mouth, her mother’s eyes flicked open, wide with terror. The

flaxen-haired priestess pressed her mouth to Olma’sdead ear, and whispered, “Goodbye, yes? Mother,

dearie!”

* * *

Village of the MadOn first encounter, the hamlet of Greengages-in-

the-Leigh appears to be an island of peace in theotherwise turbulent sea of darkness that is Northern

Erenland; an isolated rural idyll, almost completelyuntouched by the evils of the Last Age. Its inhabitantsare astonishingly ignorant of the events that shook the

world a century ago, and seem oblivious to the fact thatErenland is no more or that the bestial armies of theShadow rape and pillage indiscriminately throughout

the land. While Eredane screams beneath the iron bootsof orcs and their wicked allies amongst men, and thedark god’s altars flow with her people’s blood, the people of Greengages-in-the-Leigh conduct their livesin much the same manner as they have for a thousandyears or more.

Existence in this sleepy hamlet is a reflection of what rural life was like during the peaceful years of theThird Age, an eerie tableau of a bygone time. The same

families are still employed in the same professions as

their ancestors of half a millennia ago. The Hengalsstill work the village forge: shoeing horses, makingtool,s and mending cook pots; Darna Thory practicesmid-wifery and mixes herbal remedies using secretformulae handed down from her mother, who in turn

received them from hers, and so on. The Dales are stillthe only growers of hops in the region, and to them, astheir ancestors, falls the critical task of brewing thevillage ale. And, at the end of the road, the decayingfarmstead is still home to the family that has ruled inGreengages-in-the-Leighs since 549 TA.

The simple steading built by Iroril Glarim has,over the years, grown into an imposing farmhouse that

is now falling to ruin and surrounded by ramshackle barns and crumbling outhouses. Little work is done in

the weed-choked fields, and the herds and flocks of theGlarim clan are the weakest and most ill-kept of thevillage. The Glarim males have no real need to labor

for themselves as they lord it over the other villagers, protected from censure or retaliation because of the power invested in the females of their line – the sacred

Priestesses of the Stones who guard them all from thewickedness of this world and the next.

The Priestess of the Stones is always thematriarch of the Glarim clan, currently frail old Elsma

Glarim, who, at 81 winters, is older than any other member of the community by a score of years or more.However, though Elsma is relatively hale for her age, itis widely reckoned that she cannot last many moreyears, and the topic of her succession has obsessed thevillagers for over a decade. Elsma’s natural successor,her daughter, Rigit, died in childbirth 21 years

previous, leaving only males to continue the line. Whenyoung Maely Naud married Alans Glarim, the eldest of

Rigit’s boys, the villagers were reassured that thesacred duty would continue unbroken. However, whenMaely lost her baby under tragic circumstances – thedetails of which no villager is likely to discuss except

in the vaguest of terms, for in truth they can remember very little – Maely lost her mind and a few days later cut out her own tongue. The poor girl has been quitemad ever since, and it seems unlikely that she will befit to assume Elsma’s duties when the old priestess passes on.

Greengages-in-the-Leigh (Hamlet):Conventional; AL NE; 100 gp limit; Population268; Isolated (Dorns 100%).

Authority Figures: Elsma Glarim (Priestessof the Stones), NE female lich Dorn Lgt7;Halen Glarim, CN male Dorn Bbn4 (HeadMan).

Important Characters: Delan Alder

(Miller), NE male Dorn Exp3; Grenda Crabbel(Tanner), N female Dorn Exp5; Rud Dale

(Brewer), NE male Exp3; Alans Glarim, Nmale Dorn War3; Brel Glarim, CE male Dorn

Bbn2; Dulb Glarim, CE male Dorn Bbn2;Maely Glarim, N female Dorn Com4; SkanGlarim, NE male Dorn Rog4; Derg Hadram(Farmer), N male Dorn Com4; Narl Hengal

(Blacksmith), N male Dorn Exp5; Auno Lanon(Trapper), N male Dorn Wld1; Grisa Naud(Ham’s daughter), NG female Dorn Chn1;Ham Naud (Farmer), NE male Dorn Rog2;Asel Odrim (Farmer), N male DornExp1/War4; Darna Thory (Herb Woman) N

female Dorn Exp7.

Others: Com1 (213), Com2 (12), Com4 (5),

Com6 (3); Exp1 (7), Exp3 (3); Rog1 (4), Rog2

(1); War1 (4), War2 (2).




Strangers Round Here

The road that leads to Greengages-in-the Leighfrom the south goes nowhere. It ends at the Glarim

farmstead, which is the end of the road in more waysthan one. Because of its remote location, the village

saw little traffic even when the kings of Erenland satupon their throne, and it does not seem strange to thevillagers that they see little now. Besides, any native of Greengages will proclaim that the hamlet does see oneor two visitors per year – though they would find itdifficult to describe them in any detail, or venture much

on what became of them. Such lines of questioning aremet with blank stares and frowns of consternation before the conversation drifts onto other things, such asthe age of Elsma and who will take up her sacredcharge when she goes into the Old Place. It may also

have been noted by the inhabitants of Greengages, butcertainly not commented upon, that these rare visitorsto their village always appear just before the Feast of Thank-Offering, and ‘leave’ the following day.

Perhaps even more bizarre than this strange pattern of annual visitation is that the souls who dohappen upon the quiet hamlet are never servants of theShadow. Indeed, the villagers regard tales of theShadow in the North and orcs to be fables and myths,

told to frighten naughty children and certainly not atopic for serious conversation.

The reason for the hamlet’s isolation is that it

lies beneath a powerful glamor that originates in thering of stones at the heart of Glarim’s Wood. This

enchantment, similar to the fabled wards of Caradul,

works to deflect travellers from any course that would bring them to the village. The glamor extends in a five-mile radius, and to resist its effects a character mustsucceed in a DC 20 Will save or be subtly sent off course so he misses Greengage’s location. However,the enchantment of the stones does not always functionto gently misdirect those who might stumble upon the

tiny village; once per year it acts to entrap those whomight otherwise wish they had missed the sinister hamlet out amongst the moors. In the days before theFeast of Thank-Offering, any traveller in a 25-mileradius must succeed in a Will save (DC 25) or beinsidiously steered towards the village. The effect is

very subtle, and the victim rarely suspects they are being manipulated in this way (if a character failed hisWill save by one or two, then he is aware of a strangeand growing compulsion to travel in the direction of Greengages-in-the-Leigh, but is powerless to resist itssiren call).

Upon arriving in the hamlet, the villagers

receive their guests with enthusiastic hospitality,insisting that they stay for the imminent Feast of

Thank-Offering, where they would be honored guests.For their part, the ensorcelled victims-to-be find itvery hard to refuse the villagers’ hospitality or leavethe hamlet. To break the enchantment and regain freeaction in this regard, a character may attempt a DC 25 Will saves for each day that he spenst in Greengages-

in-the-Leigh.




Simple Folk

Due to long centuries of isolation and little fresh blood coming into the community – at least that whichisn’t promptly spilt on the altar of the God of the Dell – the villagers of Greengages-in-the-Leigh have suffered

generations of inbreeding. Consequently, all thefamilies of the hamlet are related by blood to onedegree or another. This familial association has only been increased by the carnal abandon that characterizesthe evening festivities following the Feast of Thank-Offering (see the Feast of Thank-Offering sidebar).

Such impoverished breeding has led to a tendency for slow-wittedness and even madness in the offspring of

the village. A visitor to the hamlet will likely noticethat something is a little odd about these folk (SenseMotive DC 15). Physical deformities are also quitecommon among Greengage’s newborns, but such

babies are promptly given over to the Priestess of the

Stones, and the subject is never mentioned again. Whatold Elsma does with the child is equally a subject of strict taboo. As a result of this seemingly cold-hearted practice, the people of Greengages ensure that only thestrong, physically speaking at least, survive.

Humans hailing from Greengages tend to be physically more powerful than even normal Dorns, butslower of wit and often touched by madness. As a

result they gain a +4 to Strength, –2 to Wisdom,and –4 to Intelligence, in addition to other Dorn traits.

Glarim’s WoodGlarim’s Wood is a dense woodland of peeling

birch, twisted willows, knotted nettles, and staunchred dogwoods. The ground between the trees is thick with leaf mold and loamy soil that forms deep patchesof mud in the many hollows and dells. The pathsthrough the wood are little more than animal trails that,more often than not, lead the unwary along confused

and torturous routes before petering out into boggymarshes. Here, giant hogweed and rushes grow amongfungi-cloaked deadwood sinking into rotting oblivion.The woods are haunted by a perpetual haze that drifts between the trees and gathers most thickly near theground, serving to further obscure the faint trails that

wind through its depths. The Glarim family seem to bethe only folk able to navigate the woods with suretyand, in fact, never seem to run afoul of paths thatsuddenly disappear or stinging insects that plagueothers who travel here. The villagers dare not venturemore than a hundred yards beyond the eaves of Glarim’s Wood without one of the Glarims as guide,

and even then, they will enter only during the day.

Due to the similar aspect of the woodthroughout its expanse, paths that seem to shift and

vanish, and the interminably drifting mists, getting lostin Glarim’s Wood is frightfully easy. The wood itself seems to conspire to mislead and confuse those not of Glarim blood. The character leading the way must

succeed at a Survival check DC 20, or become lost as

described in the DMG. If a member of the Glarimfamily is with the party, they never become lost whilewithin Glarim’s Wood.

At night Glarim’s Wood becomes even more

sinister , filled with creaking trees and the sudden criesof creatures whose sole intent appears to startle the

unwary. A watchful presence can often be felt in thewoods at night, and the trees seem to take on monstrousforms, their branches like great clawed hands reachingfor those foolish enough to trespass upon their

dominion.

Watchful Woods (CR 1/3): Will save DC 10; 1

hour interval; – 1 modifier/interval; – 1 penalty to all attack rolls and skill checks; Special: The modifier

is only encountered at night. For each hour spent in theforest, another Will save must be made; for eachWill save failed, the penalty increases by one. If a character may leave the forest or find secure shelt-

er to rest. After two hours of rest, the penalty disappears.

Feast of Thank-Offering The Feast of Thank-Offering is a traditional

Dornish festival held at the end of the arc of Zimra to

celebrate the year’s harvest. Gifts are left in thehousehold shrines and within the ancestor stones to

thank the ancestors for watching over the living, andto ask them for protection during the coming winter.

In Greengages-in-the-Leigh, the Priestesses of the

Stones have perverted this ritual of renewal to serve adark and terrible purpose. Rather than a happy feast

held upon the village green, as once occurred inancient times, the villagers gather in Glarim’s Woodwithin a circle of sinister stones. There, they drink

from a sacred chalice containing a potion of pungentherbs (see Appendix: Poisoned Chalice). The vile

brew clouds the imbiber’s senses, causing them toabandon all restraint and indulge in wild revelry and

debased cavorting, which culminates in a free-for-allconsummation of bestial desire. The Priestess of theStones is unaffected by the brew, and when her people

reach the height of their drug-induced delirium sheleads them in the true ceremony of the stones: the

sacrifice of a living human upon the northernmoststone of the circle. The victim is typically a stranger

(lured to the village by the siren song of the stones)

who is the guest of honor at the feast. However, thestones must be appeased with blood each year, and if astranger has not appeared by the eve of the feast, a

member of the community is secretly selected andslain.

Once the victim is dead, her throat cut with the

Priestess’s black - bladed knife, the body is taken to theOld Place by two ghouls who aid the priestess in her wicked work. There, the corpse is gagged and bound

hand and foot before being interred in one of theclaustrophobic niches. The reason for these seemingly

unnecessary precautions is that the Old Place is aconflux of necromantic magic, and a dead body placed

within its benighted caves will soon rise as Fell. The

ghouls take, as payment for their work, flesh from thecorpses before they rise as Fell.




Sacred Stones

In a tree-shadowed dell at the center of Glarim’sWood, rune-etched stones jut from the mossy earth likeold broken teeth. The stones, which lean at queer angles, range from four to ten feet in height and form a

rough ring about a low mound of black earth andfractured rock from which sickly grass grows in piebaldclumps. The woods immediately beyond the stones aredominated by huge willow trees that droop sullenly tomeet the thick detritus and mud of the ground. Thesetrees, bent like old hags, sway and creak even on

windless days and add to the eeriness of the dell.

The land encircled by the stones is cursed (treatas unhallowed, as per the spell, with an associated bane

effect: – 1 penalty on attacks rolls and a – 1 penalty onsaving throws against fear effects). These effects arecumulative with any penalties incurred from thegloominess of the surrounding woods.

The runes are disturbing to the eye, suggestiveof tentacles and unnatural shapes. They radiate

powerful evil and strong enchantment and necromancymagic. The runes are the source of the unhallowed

effect within the circle and the glamor that protectsthe village from discovery. These magical effects areconstantly active (as long as a sentient being issacrificed within the circle once per year). The siren

song of the stones is also activated by blood – and for this purpose, the Priestess of the Stones usually

reserves one or more of the villagers’ physicallydeformed babies.

The Old Place Nearby, to the east of the circle of disturbing

stones, a squat hill rises above the forest, cloaked insickly trees whose twisted forms are reminiscent of night hags and demonic beasts. Beneath thesemalevolent boughs, a muddy track leads to a black

maw framed by a dolmen of weathered old stones setinto the hillside. The dark maw seems to exude anunholy cold and loneliness, filling viewers withnameless dread, and something seems to move indarkness within. Most are spared this; except for on the night of the Feast of Thank-Offering, the portal

enclosed by the dolmen is occluded by a great boulder, pushed into the space from within the mound. On theeve of Thank-Offering, however, the hungry maw of the Old Place lies open, and from its pitch-black throat,a sound like the dusty scratching of horrid clawswhispers forth on stale air redolent of the grave.

The tunnel leading from the dolmen into the OldPlace was clearly dug or widened by picks or some

other instrument; though on close inspection, theexcavation marks have a certain form that is

reminiscent of claw marks made by some monstrous beast. Three caverns lie beyond the tunnel, and no

matter how many torches are brought within, thedarkness always seems to crowd around trespassers in

this unhallowed place (the supernatural shadows of the

Old Place provide concealment to creatures up to 5 feetaway, and total concealment beyond this distance). Intothe walls of the caves, forming tiers that rise to the

shadowed ceiling, niches have been cut to form narrowresting places for the dead. Each alcove is five or sixfeet long, three feet wide and approximately one foot

high. Though the intention of these tombs is horriblyevident, an inspection of their interiors revels that theyare, without exception, empty.

The Old Place is a necromantic conflux and the

air crackles with baleful energy and the wailing presence of the Lost. The oppressive nature of theatmosphere is such that those who venture within theOld Place must succeed in a DC 18 Will save, or beshaken until they leave the tomb. The Old Place has thesame unhallowed effects as encountered within thestone circle. Because of the necromantic energy that

swirls within the ancient tomb, a recently dead body(less than one day) placed within the Old Place rises as

Fell within 1d6 rounds. Similarly, killing an individualinside the Old Place feeds the dark energies that swirlthere, causing a fetid, cold wind to blow from withinand the victim to rise immediately as an ungral.

Two other types of denizen haunt this cursed

necropolis, each exquisitely sensitive to the forces of death and undeath. The ghouls who aid the Priestess of

the Stones with her grisly work dwell in thenorthernmost cavern of the Old Place, and uponhearing intruders to their domain, will seek to set anambush using the supernatural darkness as cover.

Advanced 3 HD ghoul (2): 19 hp; see MM.

The floor of the westernmost cave is dominated by a nearly vertical shaft that descends to into darkness;this strange hole leads to the lair of the true master of the Old Place. Beneath the woods, an ancient

abomination called an eater of the dead dwells in acave littered with human bones from the sacrifices of nearly 500 years. When the entrance to the Old Place isopened, the eater of the dead lurks in the tunnels near the chasm, awaiting the offerings thrown to it by thePriestess of the Bones and her ghoulish servants.

Eater of the dead (1): 95 hp; see Appendix.




Dark Secrets, Wicked Lies

Greengages-in-the-Leigh has an astonishingnumber of secrets for a settlement so small andseemingly inconsequential. They lie like rotting skinsabout the festering heart of the hamlet, obscuring thetrue evil that lurks at its center . Nothing is quite as itseems.

Entangled within this web of deceit are thefamilies who have dwelt in Greengages for centuries,

and at the center , pulling the strings that ensnare them,is the Glarim matriarch serving always as thePriestess of the Stones. The villagers are completelyunaware of the sinister web in which they are caught;the doubts a normal person might feel never arise, because for generations the villagers have known no

other way. Their ignorance of the outside world isalmost absolute, but they have no real desire to know

what lies beyond the green hills encircling their home.This strange, self-contented apathy is a side-effect of the insidious glamor that hides the hamlet. Only thetrapper, Auno Lanon, has been any distance from

Greengages. He seems curiously unaffected by theentrapping magic of the stones, but fear of the wide

open moorland beyond the hamlet prevents him fromwandering too far. Also, though the villagers aren'tentirely ignorant of the horrid rites they participate ineach year, the strange brew the priestess gives them

and fear of what they might find within prevents themfrom looking too closely at their fractured memories of

those wild nights.

The Priestess of the stones is at once loved andfeared by the community of Greengages. She guidesthe people in all aspects of their lives – fromadjudicating disputes and meting out punishments, toguiding them in matters of the spirit, to overseeing

their passage through life from their mother’s womb tothe Old Place and the final rest. Her power is

undisputed and absolute. But not for a moment do thevillagers suspect the vile betrayal perpetrated againstevery one of them by their trusted priestess. Yet thePriestess of the Stones’ duplicity goes deeper still.

Elsma Glarim is neither who nor what she appears to be. The old Glarim matriarch is, in fact, Annica Glarim,

daughter of Inoril and Orma, born in 522 TA. For thelast four and a half centuries Annica has existed clothedin her descendents’ flesh; beneath, she is a skeletal lich.Using the power of an unspeakable mask crafted from

the skin of her own flayed face, Annica has remainedhidden in the bosom of her family by assuming the

form of the eldest Glarim female. Periodically sheallows her false persona to ‘die’ and moves on to thenext eldest female of the line. The unfortunate whoseidentity she steals must, of course, be murdered and

buried away in the Old Place – but such an act is amere trifle for the hideous lich who has, with her

ghoulish servants, buried every member of the

community since 570 TA.

However, in this rotten hamlet hidden in thenorth, even the wicked Priestess of the Stones is a dupe.Among the lies and hidden truths, the greatest of all is

that there is no God of the Dell – the priestess’s power comes directly from Izrador Himself. Annica believesshe serves a god that dwells within the Old Place. She

even thinks she has seen its physical form, but this foulabomination, known as the eater of the dead, is simplya vile throwback to ancient days when the dread

darghuul ruled the land.

The eaters of the dead, like other terriblemonstrosities spawned by those strange and horriblemasters, survived their creators by retreating to thedarkest depths of the world. When Izrador fell to Aryth,his coming stirred these creatures and those like themfrom their millennial slumber. In later ages, when theShadow in the North sent His minions with stealth and

guile into the lands of men, such unusual creatureswere prized discoveries for those who sought to bring

their dark god gifts worthy of His malevolence.

In the Third Age, one such minion of theShadow discovered the ring of stones that stand inGlarim’s Wood, and resolved to learn their secrets andthe hidden power they undoubtedly held. He moved

with furtive caution, for his dark god was not yet readyto move openly against the men of Erenland. Besides,

he wished the glory of his discovery to be his alone,and for this reason hid it away from his masters in theOrder of Shadow lest some senior legate displace himand claim it as his own. The legate worked over the

next few years to unravel the riddle of the stones, but

events elsewhere were overtaking him and he quicklyrealized he needed more time. Fearing discovery by thenearby village or , worse, his rivals in the Order, thelegate created the myth of the God of the Dell and placed a pawn to serve it. So was born the convoluted plot that placed Iroril, through an ill-fated meeting inthe borderlands, as the unwitting stool pigeon of the

legate’s plan. How better to prevent the stones beingdiscovered by the villagers than by hiding them in fullview and making the Dornish peasants unwittingaccomplices to his sly scheme!

The legate’s plan was more successful than hecould have hoped, and when he unlocked the warding

powers of the stones, he was overjoyed to find thissuited his purposes more than well. When Iroril became

difficult, beguiled by his own duplicity to believe hereally was a priest of the dell’s god, the legate quicklyreplaced him with wife and then daughter. In Annica,the legate found more than a malleable pawn; the

young girl had power and ambition that he was eager togroom, intending that she eventually enter into the

Order of the Shadow as his protégé. Unfortunately, oneday the legate stopped coming – what fate befell him islost in the murk of history – but by this time it did notmatter ; Annica had discovered that the god of the dellreally did exist. The young woman had seen Him in the

Old Place and at night she heard His whispers in her mind.




The Glarims of GreengagesThe Glarim family are a strange and decadent

lot. Of all the families of Greengages-in-the-Leigh,

theirs is the one most often afflicted by madness;though their children are always strong and whole of

body, if not of mind. Since Iroril, the Glarims have been twisted by years of unknowingly serving Izrador through the insidious manipulation of their deathlessmatriarch.

The current members of the clan who bear the

Glarim name, though all in the village have somequantity of Glarim blood running in their veins, are

Elsma, matriarch of the clan; her son Halen; and his four boys by his sister, Rigit. The boys, now men, are Alans,the twins Dulb and Brel, and the youngest boy, Skan. None of the youngest generation suspect that Elsma is

not what she seems: their frail old grandmother , whomust be respected because she is the Priestess of the

Stones. However, Halen knows the terrible truth and ithas driven him to the brink of madness.

Halem Glarim

Halen Glarim, CN Dorn Bbn4: 35 hp; see DMG

Halen Glarim is a large bear of a man. His black hair , only now garnering streaks of grey, is like a pelt,which with his bristling black beard only adds to his

ursine image. Halen can usually be found walking,drunk, through the hills that surround the hamlet,accompanied by his hounds – great mastiffs as black astheir master’s beard. Halen drinks rough rye liquor and

walks with the frenzied pace of a caged beast so that hemight drive the nightmares away. More often than not,

he sleeps beneath a bush out on the hills, but never inGlarim’s Woods, and stays away from the farmsteadfor days at a time. The reason for his strange behaviour is that he has seen the demon that has taken hismother’s form. Indeed, when Halen stays at thefarmstead, Annica often appears at his window in her

horrifying true form, scratching at the glass and leeringat her kinsman who stares in terror from within. Annica

is sure Halen will not give her secret away – he is tooafraid, but she delights in tormenting him, pushing himfurther into madness.

Alans, Dulb, Brel and Skan

Alans Glarim, N male Dorn War3: 27 hp; see DMG.

Brel Glarim, CE male Dorn Bbn2: 20 hp; see DMG.

Dulb Glarim, CE male Dorn Bbn2: 20 hp; see DMG.

Skan Glarim, NE male Dorn Rog4: 20 hp; see DMG.

All four of Halen’s sons are vicious men, thetwins Brel and Dulb the worst of all. These two areidle bullies who do little other than cause trouble for

the other families and pick fights with all they comeacross. When not carousing in the village, they canusually be found begetting mischief in the shadows of Glarim’s Wood. Alans, since his son’s death and hiswife’s withdrawal into madness, has become less

boisterous and spends little time with his brothers. Heworks like a demon in the fields of the family farm, buthis activities are usually mindless and achieve little

other than to exhaust his weary soul. Where Alans isquiet and Dulb and Brel are violent and rowdy, Skan issly and truly evil. He is slight of frame and quick of

eye, and seeks any opportunity to inflict harm andmisery on others, purely for the pleasure it brings him.

Maely Glarim

Maely Glarim, N female Dorn Com4: 10 hp; seeDMG.

The only other member of the Glarim clan whoknows the truth of Elsma’s identity is Maely, Alans 's waif-like wife. Since losing her baby and Annica’s brutal visit to her room, the poor girl has been quitemad. She spends much of her time down by the river onthe eastern border of the Glarim land. There she squats

naked and covered in mud, washing her dead baby’sclothes and singing to a swaddled bundle of stones she believes is her child. Because Annica cut out her tongue, her once lilting voice sounds now like a beastmoaning in pain. At night one or other of the Glarimmen fetch her home and lay her abed with the stones

wrapped in cloth crushed to her breast.

S ecrets 1: The God of the Del 1 by Iain J. Brogan



Glarim Ghouls

The only other members of the Glarim clan who stillwalk the land are the two ghouls who help Annica with

her morbid activities. These two cadaverous creaturesare all that remain of Annica’s brother, Helver, and her own son, Calarg. The ghouls dwell in the Old Place

along with the abomination known as the eater of thedead.

Priestess of the Stones

Elsma Glarim (Annica), Priestess of the Stones,

female Lich legate 7: CR 11; Medium Undead (5 ft. 2in. tall); HD 7d12; hp 46; Init +5, Spd 30 ft. (6

squares); AC 17 (Dex +1, +5 natural armour, +1 dodge bonus), flat-footed 15, touch 12; Base Atk +5; Grp +7;Atks +7 touch melee (1d8+5, touch Will save DC 14)or +8 melee (1d4+3, +1 dagger ); SA Fear aura 60-ft.radius (Will, DC 14), paralyzing touch (Fort, DC 14),rebuke undead 4/day, spells; SQ Darkvision 60 ft.,

damage reduction 15/bludgeoning and magic, turnresistance +4, immunities, undead traits; AL NE; SVFort +9, Ref +6, Will +13; Str 14, Dex 12, Con –, Int12, Wis 17, Cha 13.

Skills: Bluff +4*, Concentration +6, Diplomacy+7*, Disguise +13*, Hide +9, Intimidate +14*,Knowledge (arcana) +6, Listen +11, Move Silently +9,

Search +11, Sense Motive +12, Spellcraft +7, Spot +3.

*includes bonus from the blood-flesh mask .

Feats: Dodge, Improved Initiative, Iron Will,

Spell Focus (Necromancy).

Languages: Norther

Spells Prepared: (6/5+1/4+1/3+1/1+1; base DC

= 13 + spell level): 0 – detect magic, detect poison, guidance, inflict minor wounds, read magic, resistance;

1st– bane, doom § , entropic shield, obscuring mist, protection from good**, sanctuary; 2nd– calm

emotions, darkness, death knell**, desecrate § , enthral l ; 3rd– animate dead § **, bestow curse § , blindness/deafness,meld into stone; 4th– inflict critical wounds § , unholyblight**.

** Indicates domain spell; § Necromancy spell.The base save DC for these spells, where applicable, is

14 + spell level.

Domains: Death, Evil (death touch; evil spellscast at +1 caster level).

Possessions: Simple woollen clothes and a dark red woollen shawl (cloak of resistance+1) , peasantshoes (leather strips and cloth bound round her feet),An old gold coin hung on a gold chain (blood goldonce produced by Izrador’s servants in the pr eviousages), black-bladed +1 dagger , phylactery (kept in the

lair of the eater of the dead), blood-flesh mask .

The frail old woman sits in her chair by the fire, gently rocking and smiling a wide gummy smile in a

mouth long - since vacated by its teeth. Her limbs are

painfully lean , her skin paper -thin and mottled with age.Yet there is something in her rheumy eyes that sends a shiver of dread down your spine.

Annica Glarim is vile and rotten to her undeadcore, having wallowed in evil and depravity for over four centuries. Her withered mind is fixated upon the

sham that she has helped to perpetrate over that time,and to which she is as much a fool as any of thevillagers. The lich will destroy outright anyone she

feels threatens her intricate schemes, and will toy with,and ultimately destroy, anyone else just for theenjoyment of breaking a human soul. The mental

torture to which she subjugates Halen and MaelyGlarim are examples of the demented pleasures Annicaseeks.

The withered old hag achieved her lichdom after discovering ancient runes carved into the walls of theeater of the dead’s cave far beneath the earth fromwhich Glarim’s Wood springs in malignant profusion.She was guided to this ancient lore by the abomination

that she misguidedly worships as a god. Annica’suneducated and narrow mind never thought to enquire

how the runes came to be there, believing the god hadcreated them for her benefit. In truth, the cave is part of some ancient darguul ruins that have lain undisturbedfor millennia.

The fact that Annica is disinterested in the

outside world is a small comfort for the time beingonly; it cannot be many more decades before she

comes to realize of what immortality means and becomes bored with her rural domain. Then she willseek to pursue her blasphemous pleasures in morefertile places, beyond the ring of hills that have been her

world for so long. Perhaps the God of the Dell will

instruct her to take His word beyond Greengages-in-the-Leigh, to expand His cult and spread His childrenin the cities of men.

Adventure Hooks

Feast of Thank-Offering

The arc of Zimra draws to a close and the PCsare drawn to Greengages-in-the-Leigh by the siren songof the sacred stones. They must discover the truth behind the shaky façade of normality that lies over thesinister hamlet, or fall victim to the Priestess of the

Stones and become food for the eater of the dead.

Fractured Shadows

The glamor of the stones keep orc patrols awayfrom the area of Greengages-in-the-Leigh, and itsremote location means that legates of any power rarelyhappen by. However, the Order of Shadow were onceaware of the hamlet and at least some of its sordid

secrets; this knowledge was gleaned after the lengthytorture of the legate who started it all off.Unfortunately, greater events at the time meant thatthey never pursued the information gained and it waslost and forgotten for centuries in the dusty vaults of

one of the Order’s strongholds.




Interestingly, the original legate’s astirax stillmaintains a vigil over the region, for what purposeonly it knows. It has inhabited the bodies of countless

carrion birds and buzzards over the years, watching andwaiting for some predetermined event. Occasionally,when it fears the village might be discovered by its

brethren or one of the Order, the astirax uses guile andtrickery to keep them away. Usually, it pretends to beserving an unspecified but powerful legate, and makes

vague threats and warnings of what might befall anywho interfere with its master’s plans. This has been asuccessful tactic so far, but given the rivalry in theOrder , it can only be a matter of time before a legatesees such a threat as an irresistible temptation to gainfavor at the expense of one of his fellows.

A lesser legate of the Cabal in Bastion, disillusioned by the faction and wishing to join the

Devout, has discovered vague references toGreengages-in-the-Leigh in his temple’s vaults. The

legate hopes to use this information to curry favor and buy his way into the Devout. First, the legate intends toinvestigate this old secret to understand what its truevalue might be to the Cabal, and therefore the

bargaining power he will gain with the Devout. Heobviously can’t trust his local minions, and so hires thePCs as bodyguards for the trip or to act as a vanguardto test the water for any traps that might still remain.

Alternatively, the PCs might arrive atGreengages-in-the-Leigh at the same time or shortly before or after the legate and his hired mercenaries, and

become embroiled in the machinations of the

treacherous priest.

Lost Soldiers

Like most of the rest of Northern Erenland,those who fight against the Shadow are unaware of theexistence of Greengages-in-the-Leigh. However, lastyear a resistance scout disappeared in the area andnever returned. His brother has been tracking him

since, and has finally narrowed down his last knownmovements to the general area of the hamlet. The brother too has gone missing, but not before leaving amessage for his comrades based near Bastion

describing what he had uncovered and what he plannedto do next. The resistance group suspect foul play and

before they risk any more of their dwindling numbersin a potential trap, they want the PCs to investigatewhat has happened to their men.

The PCs arrive in the area of Greengagestowards the end of Zimra and are assisted by the sirencall of the stones in finding the village. The villagersassert that the second man never came to the village.(They are telling the truth: he was apprehended by anorc patrol after the astarix guardian spotted him

approaching the area). The villagers do, however,

remember the first scout. They tell the PCs that thescout was their guest of honor at the Feast of Thank-Offering in the previous year, but claim that he left the

village the following day. If pushed (Sense Motivecheck, DC 20) they will look confused and a littleuneasy. With further questioning it becomes apparent

that no one can actually remember the scout leavingafter the festival.

Now the villagers want the PCs to be the guests

of honor at this year’s feast, and the PCs findthemselves strangely reluctant to leave . . .




Appendix I – New Monsters

Eater of the Dead

Huge Aberration

Hit Dice: 10d8+50 (95 hp)Initiative: +2Speed: 30 ft.

AC: 19 ( – 2 size, +2 Dex, +9 natural armor), touch10, flat-footed 17

Base Attack/Grapple: +7/+23Attack: Tentacle +13 melee (1d8+8) Full Attack: 6 tentacles +13 melee (1d8+8) and bite +8 melee (2d6+4)Space/Reach: 15 ft./15 ft. (30 ft. with tentacles)

Special Attacks: Constrict, drag, improved grab,

poisonSpecial Qualities: Darkvision 60 ft., immunities,regeneration 4Saves: Fort +8, Ref +5, Will +12Abilities: Str 27, Dex 14, Con 21, Int 12, Wis 16,Cha 12

Skills: Bluff +9, Climb +14, Diplomacy +6,Intimidate +5, Knowledge (arcana) +9, Listen +9,Move Silently +4Feats: Alertness, Iron Will, Power Attack Climate/Terrain: Underground

Organisation: Solitary

Challenge Rating: 8

Treasure: standard Alignment: Usually neutral evilAdvancement: text

A monstrous worm-like beast erupts from the

hole before you in a shower of broken bones. It swaysblindly as it seeks you with powerful tentacles that

protrude from muscular ridges along its pallid bodyand drip with white slime that carries the stench of rotting flesh. Its head consists of a fleshy sheath that houses a set of three cruelly hooked mandibles around

a pulsating orifice lined with rows of spiny teeth.

The eaters of the dead are horrible abominations

that dwell in the dark places of the world. Suckeredtentacles protrude from their huge, worm-like bodies inwrithing profusion, lashing and groping at the air in aninsane frenzy. They use these appendages to grab andattack their prey, but use pulsatile contractions of their tubular bodies to propel themselves through the

lightless spaces where they dwell beneath the earth.Towards one end, the creature’s body tapers to atricuspid structure made up of three fleshy sheathsencasing wickedly hooked mandibles. These framethe creature’s mouth, which is no more than a longmuscular gullet that bristles with sequential rings of

spiny teeth. Vile ichor drips continuously from these

fangs, emitting a terrible stench; if injected into a vic-

tim’s body, it courses through the blood, causing madness followed shortly by an agonizing death.

The eaters of the dead are thought to have beenspawned long ago ago by the darghuul, created for

some nefarious purpose long forgotten. Whether theygained their preference for undead flesh over time or

had it from the beginning is also a mystery, but theeaters of the dead, by preference, will consume theflesh of the undead rather than that of the truly dead or the living. Some necromancers speculate that it is the

necromantic energy contained within the flesh of theFell that they truly crave.

While the eaters of the dead are trulyabominable and vile, they are far from unintelligent

beasts. The eaters of the dead can communicate by alimited form of telepathy that transfers images andsounds into the recipient’s mind. To communicatewith an eater of the dead is to feel defiled.

Combat

When attacking, an eater of the dead uses itsreach to grab opponents with its tentacles and attemptsto pull them into its space so it can use its bite attack.

Constrict (Ex): An eater of the dead deals automatictentacle damage with a successful grapple check.

Immunities (Su): Because of its close association

with the Fell or perhaps because of its ancient alienorigins, the eaters of the dead have developed

immunity to cold, disease, energy drain, and paralysis.

Improved Grab (Ex): To use this ability, the eater of the dead must hit with a tentacle attack. It can thenattempt to start a grapple as a free action without provoking an attack of opportunity. If it wins thegrapple check, it establishes a hold and can constrict or

pull the opponent into its space.

Poison (Ex): An eater of the dead delivers its poison(Fortitude save DC 15) with each successful bite attack.

The initial damage is 1d6 points of Wisdom damage,

and the secondary damage is 2d6 points of Constitutiondamage.

Regeneration (Ex): An eater of the dead takesnormal damage from acid, fire, and electricity.




Appendix II - New Items& Spells

The Blood-Flesh Mask

The blood-flesh mask was created by AnnicaGlarim from the skin of her own face. The skin has

since withered to a desiccated leathery husk thatappears like it might crumble at a touch. However,when the blood-flesh mask is soaked in fresh blood it becomes smooth and supple, and can be easily worn as

a mask. When placed over a person’s face, the blood- flesh mask attaches itself like a second skin and confers

its power to the wearer.

1st Level: The wearer is considered to be under the effects of a permanent disguise self spell (DC 14 torecognise as an illusion if a creature interacts with it).

3rd Level: The wearer of the blood-flesh mask gains a +2 bonus to all Charisma checks and Charisma- based skill checks when trying to deceive or mislead

someone.

6th Level: The wearer of the mask can castcharm person once per day as a 6th-level channeler.

9th Level: The true visage of the mask can berevealed in all its horror, conferring on the wearer the

ability to cast fear as a 9th-level channeler once per day.

12th Level: The wearer can cast dominate

person once per day as a 12th-level channeler.

Poisoned Chalice

The golden chalice used by the Priestess of theStones in the Feast of Thank-Offering can be used to

transform water or any other liquid into a potion of debauchery (caster level 10th) as per the spell (see below). The chalice can only be used once per year, butfunctions for a whole day when activated and can makean unlimited amount of the potion. The chalice bestowsthe magical effects on the liquid and any potion

transferred to another container loses its enchantmentafter 2d12 hours.

DebaucheryEnchantment (Compulsion) [Mind-Affecting]Level: 6

Components: S, M, FCasting Time: 1 standard action

Range: Close (25 ft. + 5 ft./level)Targets: All creatures in a 30-ft. radius burst. Duration: Special; see textSaving Throw: Will negates

Spell Resistance: Yes

This spell causes the targets to lose all track of time and start carousing with wild abandon until the

following sunrise. While affected by the spell, the onlything that occupies the target’s mind is to cavort and

sing; eat and drink; fight and fornicate. While under theeffects of the spell, any statement is received as if itwere a suggestion spell to which the target failed his

saving throw; he will engage whole-heartedly, uncar-of anything going on around him as long as no person or event detracts from his carousing and

entertainment. A victim ensnared by a debauchery spellwill only willingly leave off from the revelry if personally attacked.

On the following morning, a creature affected

by debauchery will not remember the events thatoccurred while under the effects of the spell, except asa vague sense of embarrassment and unease.

The material component of a debauchery spell is

a musical instrument or a quantity of drink (such as ale,mead or wine), and the verbal and somantic compon-ents are a line and pantomime from a ribald song.

secrets01_godofthedell

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