Menu
News
All News
Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
Pathfinder
Starfinder
Warhammer
2d20 System
Year Zero Engine
Industry News
Reviews
Dragon Reflections
Columns
Weekly Digests
Weekly News Digest
Freebies, Sales & Bundles
RPG Print News
RPG Crowdfunding News
Game Content
ENterplanetary DimENsions
Mythological Figures
Opinion
Worlds of Design
Peregrine's Next
RPG Evolution
Other Columns
From the Freelancing Frontline
Monster ENcyclopedia
WotC/TSR Alumni Look Back
4 Hours w/RSD (Ryan Dancey)
The Road to 3E (Jonathan Tweet)
Greenwood's Realms (Ed Greenwood)
Drawmij's TSR (Jim Ward)
Community
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Resources
Wiki
Pages
Latest activity
Media
New media
New comments
Search media
Downloads
Latest reviews
Search resources
EN Publishing
Store
EN5ider
Adventures in ZEITGEIST
Awfully Cheerful Engine
What's OLD is NEW
Judge Dredd & The Worlds Of 2000AD
War of the Burning Sky
Level Up: Advanced 5E
Events & Releases
Upcoming Events
Private Events
Featured Events
Socials!
Twitch
YouTube
Facebook (EN Publishing)
Facebook (EN World)
Twitter
Instagram
TikTok
Podcast
Features
Top 5 RPGs Compiled Charts 2004-Present
Adventure Game Industry Market Research Summary (RPGs) V1.0
Ryan Dancey: Acquiring TSR
Q&A With Gary Gygax
D&D Rules FAQs
TSR, WotC, & Paizo: A Comparative History
D&D Pronunciation Guide
Million Dollar TTRPG Kickstarters
Tabletop RPG Podcast Hall of Fame
Eric Noah's Unofficial D&D 3rd Edition News
D&D in the Mainstream
D&D & RPG History
About Morrus
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Supernatural Wood - Last Updated September 17th
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="GodOfCheese" data-source="post: 4856866" data-attributes="member: 19170"><p><strong>The Mill</strong></p><p></p><p>At night, the J’Tegh mill looked little different than any other well-to-do building. It was of stone, and its windsails were sufficiently high off the ground that you wouldn’t see them unless you were looking for them. From the road, the place’s only real features were its double doors, which were tall enough to admit a man standing in a horse’s saddle, and wide enough for a carriage or cart. There were two sets of doors on opposing sides of the square structure. </p><p></p><p>On the inside, it was cold, despite the warm air outside, and much darker, as if it were gathering the night into itself. The smell of nameless lubricating oils, old sweat, and the sawdust of decades washed out the nighttime smells they carried in with them in an instant. The sound of the sails turning loudly overhead echoed within the place.</p><p></p><p>By the light of three torches, they could see a spindle turning in the center of the room, attached to a large set of gears that appeared to be disconnected from anything else. Nearby were two massive, circular saw-blades, which gleamed brightly, as if newly-forged. These were set into different parts of a long, low table spanning the room, from the entry doors to a second set of doors on the far side. </p><p></p><p>Woodchips and sawdust softened the edges and corners of the room. Conspicuous reddish-brown stains were evident in various places on the floor and table. Only the one on the table seemed particularly large, which they found strange until Jo pointed out that the cut wood was not stored here.</p><p></p><p>“No windows?” asked Dorin, in the same tone of voice he might use to inquire as to the missing eyes on a horse he was being offered for sale.</p><p></p><p>Wik gestured around with her torch. “They don’t need them,” she said. “They can see in the dark, remember?”</p><p></p><p>He nodded before looking appraisingly at the floor. “Be careful kicking up sawdust,” he said suddenly, holding his torch a little higher. “Everything in this room can burn.” After a moment’s hesitation, he added, “Including us.”</p><p></p><p>Wik exhaled, holding her torch up a little higher.</p><p></p><p>The man went on. “Jo, aren’t you going to get into trouble? Impersonating a town guard to get us in here?”</p><p></p><p>“Not if we can save the mill,” replied the enormous woman calmly. She shined her torch around, inspecting the walls and the stained floor casually. Her back was to Dorin, but he thought he caught the hint of a smile in her voice.</p><p></p><p><em>Ahhh, so she wants to be a hero</em>, he thought. But he said nothing.</p><p></p><p>Wik’s expression was blank. She took in her surroundings with a kind of over-the-top alertness that could make a bear self-conscious. The little gnome looked quite professional, but at the same time out of place. </p><p></p><p>“What are we looking for?” asked Jo.</p><p></p><p>Wik answered without turning from her search. “Your guess is as good as mine. Something that might tie the haunting spirit to this place.”</p><p></p><p>“Spirit?” Jo fingered the handle to her axe, as if verifying it was still there. </p><p></p><p>“Spirits of the dead like to linger in places they loved in life,” Wik muttered absently. “Or where they died before their time.” Then quickly: “So I’ve read, mind you.”</p><p></p><p>“Jo,” Dorin asked, “has anyone ever died here?” </p><p></p><p>Wik continued to look energetically around the chamber. One of the long walls that didn’t have doors on it had dozens of bizarre tools hanging from heavy nails. Each nail held a tool (or several of the same kind), and they were spaced out across the wall. </p><p></p><p>“No, not here,” replied Jo evenly. “Not recently at least.” Her fingertips fidgeted with her axe-handle. “I’d have remembered the funeral.” Nobody said anything, so she added: “Dying on the job? I don’t think there’s a more honorable way for a dwarf to go out. Well, aside from dying defending his home I guess.”</p><p></p><p>“Hmmm. Could it be a hoax?” asked Wik. She didn’t sound convinced.</p><p></p><p>“How would you fake bleeding wood?” Jo replied incredulously. “And why would they want to shut their own mill down?”</p><p></p><p>Dorin’s answer was immediate. “Perhaps someone else wanted to shut it down for them? I can imagine a few ways. Especially if magic was involved.”</p><p></p><p>Jo cocked an eyebrow at the word “magic”, but said nothing.</p><p></p><p>Dorin looked to Wik. “Can you sense any magic?”</p><p></p><p>She touched her amulet and concentrated. “It is present,” she said calmly, looking around slowly. After a few seconds, she walked slowly to the center of the room. “These,” she said, pointing to the saw-blades. </p><p></p><p>“Could the bleeding be an illusion?” mused Dorin.</p><p></p><p>But Wik shook her head. “Transmutation… it looks like a distant derivation of the <em>Knock</em> spell… probably to make it more effective at cutting wood.” </p><p></p><p>Dorin grinned in a kind of “gotcha” way. “So that’s why their temple didn’t get involved!” He looked at his companions, neither of whom had anything to say, so he continued. “That spell would be illegal to cast in town. Hypocrites!” </p><p></p><p>He chuckled, but trailed off quickly. “It doesn’t tell us much about the haunting though…”</p><p></p><p>Wik crouched to inspect something on the floor. She was on the opposite wall from the tools, where apparently most of the wood chips and sawdust had been swept. </p><p></p><p>“How about dwarves who worked here but died tragically in other ways?” </p><p></p><p>All was silent for a moment, save for the turning of the mechanism over their heads by the sails outside. Dorin looked up at Jo.</p><p></p><p>“Not a clue.” She replied.</p><p></p><p>His eyes didn’t leave her. Hers, in response, narrowed. “What?” she replied defensively. “The shifts at the mills change every few months at holidays. Then most of them go off to cut timber for a season or two. Some don’t come back.”</p><p></p><p>“So <em>generations</em> of dwarves could potentially be haunting this place?” Dorin seemed less than enthusiastic. Jo didn’t look much better. “Wik, if that’s the case, what do we do about it?”</p><p></p><p>“Help them pass on,” added Wik absently. </p><p></p><p>Dorin noticed. “What do you have?”</p><p></p><p>“I don’t know. Bloody wood in a pile of clean shavings?”</p><p></p><p>The wood, on inspection, was a piece of grey bark about as long as a man’s forearm and about a hand’s width. The chunk was rough, with deep grooves and crevices. Its edges were perfectly smooth – the saw’s work – and the cross-section there was deep and black, like mahogany. Threadlike veins of red ran through it in parallel. </p><p></p><p>When she picked it up, there was a red, still-moist mark beneath it on the stone floor, as if it had been stamped with it. </p><p></p><p>Wik’s hand was damp and crimson when she held up the object for inspection. She had set her torch down on a patch of bare floor nearby. The flickering, orange light of it made her nose look like a lantern. “Maybe I’m imagining things. It feels cold to the touch.”</p><p></p><p>“Of course it’s cold,” Dorin replied. “It’s been sitting on a stone floor for who knows how long.”</p><p></p><p>“No, <em>cold</em>.” She blew on her fingertips. Vapor issued, drawing Dorin’s rapt attention. She began to move the chip between her hands as one might a glowing ember.</p><p></p><p>“What do we do?” asked Jo. “Burn it?”</p><p></p><p>“Not in here, we don’t!” Dorin exclaimed emphatically. “Wik?”</p><p></p><p>“I don’t know. I’ve never done this before. I could try channeling it, maybe?”</p><p></p><p>“What, let it <em>possess</em> you?” Dorin seemed shocked.</p><p></p><p>“No, the other way around. Like casting out the dead or healing… push Ehlonna’s gift… the power of life… into the chip and see if it drives out the spirit.” She closed her eyes abruptly, concentrating. The unicorn at her breast glowed subtly.</p><p></p><p>Dorin backed quickly away from her. He held out his torch to warn Jo back as well. The man held his other hand at chest height, palm out, as if preparing to catch something thrown at him. </p><p></p><p>Jo threw her torch down to the stone. She drew her axe outright and held its massive bulk before her in both hands. Seeing this, Dorin stepped forward, not quite interposing between the two women but certainly giving the warrior a bit more space. He looked distinctly uncomfortable.</p><p></p><p>Wik’s eyes went wide and she took in breath sharply. Her lips looked blue. A second later, the whole room grew uncomfortably cold. </p><p></p><p>A low groan echoed through the mill, like a tree creaking in a gale. It seemed to flow all around the chamber.</p><p></p><p>Jo whirled to follow the sound, casting bizarre shadows as she did. Her axe flashed, reflecting the torchlight from the floor as she moved. Though visibly shaken, her voice was completely calm: “Stay behind me, strange man.” </p><p></p><p>“Ever fought a ghost?” he asked nervously, gripping his torch in both hands. </p><p></p><p>“No.” </p><p></p><p>Dorin blanched. It is not comforting to see an amazingly tall person look frightened, especially if she is carrying an axe taller than you are. “Wik, you still with us?” he asked.</p><p></p><p>The gnome’s teeth chattered. She looked petrified with shock.</p><p></p><p>Then the wind came up, and with it the groaning sound. Small tools flew off the table. Particles of dust were cast into the air, though strangely the sawdust pile was unchanged.</p><p></p><p>“What do we do?” Jo yelled frantically.</p><p></p><p>“Wik, can you find it?” Dorin asked suddenly. “Where is it? What does it look like?”</p><p></p><p>This seemed to revive her. “Not yet—give me a breath.” She whispered a spell and her amulet flared white. The light radiated outward through the bark, cutting a swath through the dust. </p><p></p><p><em>Detect Undead</em>, noted Dorin reflexively.</p><p></p><p>Where the light touched the stone walls of the mill, the three intruders saw eerily-lit grass instead. Not even the cobblestones outside, but the sparse grass of a dense forest, tousled by the unnatural breeze that circled the room. It was as if they were standing in a vast forest, its canopy blotting out the moon, and Wik’s amulet provided patchy moonlight, illuminating the floor as it moved.</p><p></p><p>“That’s… not how this is supposed to work,” muttered Wik to nobody in particular.</p><p></p><p>An awl flew past her ear and embedded itself in the mortar behind her.</p><p></p><p>“Where <em>is it?</em>” called Jo urgently over the wind. </p><p></p><p>Wik shined her magic about. The results were the same on all the walls: a forest scene, reacting to the wind. “I don’t know! It seems everywhere!” </p><p></p><p>A heavy metal file whipped over Dorin’s head. Jo deflected it with her axe.</p><p></p><p>“This is bad,” Jo said calmly, to no one in particular. </p><p></p><p>Dorin looked at Wik, and then yelled “Out! Go!”</p><p></p><p>The wind picked up and began to savage their clothes. They ran to the door. Jo wrenched it open and the travelers ran eagerly through it. Once through, the warrior heaved the door closed behind them. Behind them, the three heard the wind die away inside the building.</p><p></p><p>“What the <em>hells</em> was <em>that?</em>” asked Jo exasperatedly.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="GodOfCheese, post: 4856866, member: 19170"] [b]The Mill[/b] At night, the J’Tegh mill looked little different than any other well-to-do building. It was of stone, and its windsails were sufficiently high off the ground that you wouldn’t see them unless you were looking for them. From the road, the place’s only real features were its double doors, which were tall enough to admit a man standing in a horse’s saddle, and wide enough for a carriage or cart. There were two sets of doors on opposing sides of the square structure. On the inside, it was cold, despite the warm air outside, and much darker, as if it were gathering the night into itself. The smell of nameless lubricating oils, old sweat, and the sawdust of decades washed out the nighttime smells they carried in with them in an instant. The sound of the sails turning loudly overhead echoed within the place. By the light of three torches, they could see a spindle turning in the center of the room, attached to a large set of gears that appeared to be disconnected from anything else. Nearby were two massive, circular saw-blades, which gleamed brightly, as if newly-forged. These were set into different parts of a long, low table spanning the room, from the entry doors to a second set of doors on the far side. Woodchips and sawdust softened the edges and corners of the room. Conspicuous reddish-brown stains were evident in various places on the floor and table. Only the one on the table seemed particularly large, which they found strange until Jo pointed out that the cut wood was not stored here. “No windows?” asked Dorin, in the same tone of voice he might use to inquire as to the missing eyes on a horse he was being offered for sale. Wik gestured around with her torch. “They don’t need them,” she said. “They can see in the dark, remember?” He nodded before looking appraisingly at the floor. “Be careful kicking up sawdust,” he said suddenly, holding his torch a little higher. “Everything in this room can burn.” After a moment’s hesitation, he added, “Including us.” Wik exhaled, holding her torch up a little higher. The man went on. “Jo, aren’t you going to get into trouble? Impersonating a town guard to get us in here?” “Not if we can save the mill,” replied the enormous woman calmly. She shined her torch around, inspecting the walls and the stained floor casually. Her back was to Dorin, but he thought he caught the hint of a smile in her voice. [I]Ahhh, so she wants to be a hero[/I], he thought. But he said nothing. Wik’s expression was blank. She took in her surroundings with a kind of over-the-top alertness that could make a bear self-conscious. The little gnome looked quite professional, but at the same time out of place. “What are we looking for?” asked Jo. Wik answered without turning from her search. “Your guess is as good as mine. Something that might tie the haunting spirit to this place.” “Spirit?” Jo fingered the handle to her axe, as if verifying it was still there. “Spirits of the dead like to linger in places they loved in life,” Wik muttered absently. “Or where they died before their time.” Then quickly: “So I’ve read, mind you.” “Jo,” Dorin asked, “has anyone ever died here?” Wik continued to look energetically around the chamber. One of the long walls that didn’t have doors on it had dozens of bizarre tools hanging from heavy nails. Each nail held a tool (or several of the same kind), and they were spaced out across the wall. “No, not here,” replied Jo evenly. “Not recently at least.” Her fingertips fidgeted with her axe-handle. “I’d have remembered the funeral.” Nobody said anything, so she added: “Dying on the job? I don’t think there’s a more honorable way for a dwarf to go out. Well, aside from dying defending his home I guess.” “Hmmm. Could it be a hoax?” asked Wik. She didn’t sound convinced. “How would you fake bleeding wood?” Jo replied incredulously. “And why would they want to shut their own mill down?” Dorin’s answer was immediate. “Perhaps someone else wanted to shut it down for them? I can imagine a few ways. Especially if magic was involved.” Jo cocked an eyebrow at the word “magic”, but said nothing. Dorin looked to Wik. “Can you sense any magic?” She touched her amulet and concentrated. “It is present,” she said calmly, looking around slowly. After a few seconds, she walked slowly to the center of the room. “These,” she said, pointing to the saw-blades. “Could the bleeding be an illusion?” mused Dorin. But Wik shook her head. “Transmutation… it looks like a distant derivation of the [I]Knock[/I] spell… probably to make it more effective at cutting wood.” Dorin grinned in a kind of “gotcha” way. “So that’s why their temple didn’t get involved!” He looked at his companions, neither of whom had anything to say, so he continued. “That spell would be illegal to cast in town. Hypocrites!” He chuckled, but trailed off quickly. “It doesn’t tell us much about the haunting though…” Wik crouched to inspect something on the floor. She was on the opposite wall from the tools, where apparently most of the wood chips and sawdust had been swept. “How about dwarves who worked here but died tragically in other ways?” All was silent for a moment, save for the turning of the mechanism over their heads by the sails outside. Dorin looked up at Jo. “Not a clue.” She replied. His eyes didn’t leave her. Hers, in response, narrowed. “What?” she replied defensively. “The shifts at the mills change every few months at holidays. Then most of them go off to cut timber for a season or two. Some don’t come back.” “So [I]generations[/I] of dwarves could potentially be haunting this place?” Dorin seemed less than enthusiastic. Jo didn’t look much better. “Wik, if that’s the case, what do we do about it?” “Help them pass on,” added Wik absently. Dorin noticed. “What do you have?” “I don’t know. Bloody wood in a pile of clean shavings?” The wood, on inspection, was a piece of grey bark about as long as a man’s forearm and about a hand’s width. The chunk was rough, with deep grooves and crevices. Its edges were perfectly smooth – the saw’s work – and the cross-section there was deep and black, like mahogany. Threadlike veins of red ran through it in parallel. When she picked it up, there was a red, still-moist mark beneath it on the stone floor, as if it had been stamped with it. Wik’s hand was damp and crimson when she held up the object for inspection. She had set her torch down on a patch of bare floor nearby. The flickering, orange light of it made her nose look like a lantern. “Maybe I’m imagining things. It feels cold to the touch.” “Of course it’s cold,” Dorin replied. “It’s been sitting on a stone floor for who knows how long.” “No, [I]cold[/I].” She blew on her fingertips. Vapor issued, drawing Dorin’s rapt attention. She began to move the chip between her hands as one might a glowing ember. “What do we do?” asked Jo. “Burn it?” “Not in here, we don’t!” Dorin exclaimed emphatically. “Wik?” “I don’t know. I’ve never done this before. I could try channeling it, maybe?” “What, let it [I]possess[/I] you?” Dorin seemed shocked. “No, the other way around. Like casting out the dead or healing… push Ehlonna’s gift… the power of life… into the chip and see if it drives out the spirit.” She closed her eyes abruptly, concentrating. The unicorn at her breast glowed subtly. Dorin backed quickly away from her. He held out his torch to warn Jo back as well. The man held his other hand at chest height, palm out, as if preparing to catch something thrown at him. Jo threw her torch down to the stone. She drew her axe outright and held its massive bulk before her in both hands. Seeing this, Dorin stepped forward, not quite interposing between the two women but certainly giving the warrior a bit more space. He looked distinctly uncomfortable. Wik’s eyes went wide and she took in breath sharply. Her lips looked blue. A second later, the whole room grew uncomfortably cold. A low groan echoed through the mill, like a tree creaking in a gale. It seemed to flow all around the chamber. Jo whirled to follow the sound, casting bizarre shadows as she did. Her axe flashed, reflecting the torchlight from the floor as she moved. Though visibly shaken, her voice was completely calm: “Stay behind me, strange man.” “Ever fought a ghost?” he asked nervously, gripping his torch in both hands. “No.” Dorin blanched. It is not comforting to see an amazingly tall person look frightened, especially if she is carrying an axe taller than you are. “Wik, you still with us?” he asked. The gnome’s teeth chattered. She looked petrified with shock. Then the wind came up, and with it the groaning sound. Small tools flew off the table. Particles of dust were cast into the air, though strangely the sawdust pile was unchanged. “What do we do?” Jo yelled frantically. “Wik, can you find it?” Dorin asked suddenly. “Where is it? What does it look like?” This seemed to revive her. “Not yet—give me a breath.” She whispered a spell and her amulet flared white. The light radiated outward through the bark, cutting a swath through the dust. [I]Detect Undead[/I], noted Dorin reflexively. Where the light touched the stone walls of the mill, the three intruders saw eerily-lit grass instead. Not even the cobblestones outside, but the sparse grass of a dense forest, tousled by the unnatural breeze that circled the room. It was as if they were standing in a vast forest, its canopy blotting out the moon, and Wik’s amulet provided patchy moonlight, illuminating the floor as it moved. “That’s… not how this is supposed to work,” muttered Wik to nobody in particular. An awl flew past her ear and embedded itself in the mortar behind her. “Where [I]is it?[/I]” called Jo urgently over the wind. Wik shined her magic about. The results were the same on all the walls: a forest scene, reacting to the wind. “I don’t know! It seems everywhere!” A heavy metal file whipped over Dorin’s head. Jo deflected it with her axe. “This is bad,” Jo said calmly, to no one in particular. Dorin looked at Wik, and then yelled “Out! Go!” The wind picked up and began to savage their clothes. They ran to the door. Jo wrenched it open and the travelers ran eagerly through it. Once through, the warrior heaved the door closed behind them. Behind them, the three heard the wind die away inside the building. “What the [I]hells[/I] was [I]that?[/I]” asked Jo exasperatedly. [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Supernatural Wood - Last Updated September 17th
Top