The Return
The start of a new campaign with a Bugbear Theif, Dragonborn Fighter, Firbolg Druid, Human Warlock, Human Wizard, Sorcerer Quasit, and a Tortle Cleric.
Episode 1
The following is an excerpt from “Escape from Wilderun”, as told by Aohdan, druid of the first order of the circle of Glenn Affic.
The Summoning Circle
Aye, it was a queer day, tae be sure, wakin’ up in that clearin’. Smoke was billowin’ through the air above me as I came tae, sprawled flat on me back, feelin’ as if I’d been wrung oot an’ left tae dry like an auld rag. As I stirred, I keeked aboot an’ found meself surrounded by others—some stirrin’ like me, an’ others… well, they werenae movin’ at all, poor souls.
We were laid oot in a circle, right round a smolderin’ patch o’ charred earth, as if somethin’ unholy had scorched its mark intae the land itself. Mind ye, I’ve nae clue who these strangers were, an’ whoever brought us here had nae the decency tae leave us wi’ our claes! But here’s the strangest part—I felt stronger than I’d been in years. The aches in me joints, the heaviness I’d carried for so long—it was all gone, vanished like dew in the mornin’ sun. When I ran me hands over meself, searchin’ fer injuries, I found somethin’ that left me baffled—me youth had returned! Aye, I was as hale an’ hearty as I’d been as a young oganach.
Once we’d all gotten our bearings, we noticed somethin’ peculiar—a pile o’ claes near each o’ us. Braw, what a relief that was! Ach, dinnae get me wrong, I’ve as much love fer nature as the next druid, but guid grief! Some o’ them wander aboot wi’ nae more than the skin they were born wi’. It’s like they’ve ne’er heard, ‘A bonnie coat disnae make a wise beast,’ aye?
The pile nearest me held a robe, but it wasnae mine. I recall me own—an auld thing, patched an’ mended over the years like an auld friend. It fair broke me heart tae see it gone. Me scarf was missin’ too, replaced by a fine red one wi’ golden runes stitched through it, runes I couldnae make sense o’. Thank the gods, though, me staff was there, sittin’ atop the pile like it had ne’er left me. Blackened an’ twisted like an ancient branch kissed by fire, it felt as steady as the ground beneath me feet.
Once we’d pulled on our claes, we began tae introduce ourselves. Let me tell ye, it was quite the sight. Folk o’ all kinds stood there—ones I’d only ever heard whispers o’. A fearsome dragonborn wi’ scales like burnished bronze, a wee demon-lookin’ beastie that made me wonder what magics were at play, a friendly bugbear dressed in dark leathers, a tortle movin’ as slow as sap in winter, an’ a handful o’ humans tae boot. But it was the corpses that fair chilled me—three o’ them, all in various states o’ disrepair, if ye catch me meanin’. Whatever had brought us here hadnae spared them the same fortune as us.
It was plain we’d been brought tae this place fer a reason. But as tae what that reason was? Aye, I dinnae ken.
We found a corpse lyin’ nearby, all decked oot in wizard’s robes. The poor soul looked like they’d met a foul end—burnt an’ battered, wi’ nae sign o’ what might’ve done the deed. Beside them was a heap o’ backpacks, packed neatly wi’ survival gear, as if whoever brought us here had left us somethin’ tae carry us forward. Folded in the wizard’s robes were some letters and a map, though they were scorched near tae ash. Whit they’ll tell us, I cannae yet say, but they might hold a clue tae why we’re here.
Wolves
We were still gatherin’ our wits when a low, eerie howl came driftin’ through the trees. It fair set the hairs on me neck tae standin’. Before we could ready ourselves, a pack o’ wolves burst fae the forest, snarlin’ an’ barin’ their teeth. But nae, these weren’t wolves like the ones frae Glen Affric. These were somethin’ twisted—bigger, fiercer, an’ wi’ eyes that gleamed wi’ a strange, unnatural light.
I stepped forward, speakin’ the old tongue, hopin’ tae calm them an’ stay their attack. Fer a moment, it seemed tae work—their growls softened, their hackles droppin’ as if the wolves within were fightin’ tae reclaim their own minds. But before peace could take root, me new companions struck out first - with the exception of Wraithfoot the bugbear. Nae blamin’ them, mind—it was fear an’ survival guidin’ their hands—but the fight was quick an’ brutal. Rex the dragonborn proved a fierce fighter, and Aiondor the human a capable sorceror. Even Zoro - as proud and preening as he is conjourned a terrifying illusion of a giant dog that confused the wolves. By the end, most o’ the wolves lay lifeless on the ground.
I mourned their loss that day, fer even twisted creatures like them deserve dignity in death. But when I bent tae examine their bodies, I found somethin’ that chilled me tae the bone—their insides were riddled wi’ rot, blackened an’ foul, as if they’d been long dead yet moved by some dark force. It was a blight, sure as I’m standin’ here, an’ a foul one at that. Whatever magic’s at work in these woods, it’s no natural. If it can twist wolves tae turn on druids, who knows what else it’s capable o’.
Sanctuary
Aye, we made our way oot o’ that cursed clearin’, leavin’ behind the circle o’ scorched earth an’ the queer feelin’ it left in our bones. Tae the east, we spied a faint glimmer o’ light, barely visible through the trees, an’ we followed it like moths tae a flame. As we got closer, the glimmer took the shape o’ a door—a door made o’ pure magic, glowin’ wi’ a power that made the hairs on me arms stand up. I’ve seen me share o’ druidic magics, but this? This was somethin’ far beyond the likes o’ what I’d known.
We stepped through the door an’ found ourselves in a grand hall, the kind ye’d hear tell o’ in old stories. There was a banquet table laid oot before us, piled wi’ the finest food ye could imagine—roasted meats, fresh-baked breads, an’ fruits so ripe they fair glistened. Ach, I’ll nae lie, the sight o’ the roasted animals turned me stomach a bit. I’ve always felt it’s guid tae let the wee creatures keep their skins on their backs, but it was clear this feast was meant fer us. Naturally, Mars an’ Zorro dove in without a second thought, stuffin’ their faces like they’d ne’er seen a meal afore. Meanwhile, the tortle shuffled aff tae a library upstairs, leavin’ the rest o’ us tae wonder at the oddity o’ it all.
Rooms off the hall held bedchambers, each one made tae fit its guest perfectly. Clever work, that. I settled meself doon tae rest, though me mind was still churnin’. As youthful as I felt, the morn’s work is nae done by a bleary-eyed fool, an’ I’d need me wits sharp come dawn.
Streams and Toads
The next day, we headed west, followin’ a stream that wound its way through the forest. These woods were unfamiliar tae me, but I could feel the rhythm o’ the land beneath me feet, guidin’ us tae the quickest path. By noon, we’d made fine progress an’ stopped by a sandy bit along the stream tae rest. The noon sun trickled through the trees, an’ fer a moment, all felt calm.
Now, Zorro, vain as a magpie wi’ a shiny bauble, was crouched by the stream, admirin’ his reflection as if it were somethin’ tae behold. But his preenin’ cost him dearly. A giant toad burst frae the water wi’ a thunderin’ leap an’ swallowed him whole, just like that!
We all scrambled tae action, Mars an’ Wraithfoot attackin’ the beast while Clarence worked his healin’ magic tae keep Zorro clingin’ tae life inside the toad’s gullet. I grabbed hold o’ Zorro’s legs an’ pulled wi’ all me strength, while Rex landed a blow on the toad’s side that near cracked its hide. At last, wi’ a mighty tug, I yanked Zorro free as the others struck the beast doon fer guid.
But nae sooner had we caught our breath than the real horror began. Black, writhin’ tadpole-like creatures poured frae the stream, their razor-sharp teeth glintin’ in the sunlight. They crawled at us in droves, screechin’ an’ bitin’ wi’ an unnatural ferocity. The party fought bravely, slashin’ an’ crushin’ the cursed things, but Zoro—aye, Zoro—turned tail tae flee. ‘The coward’s back is aye the first tae bleed,’ an’ sure enough, one o’ the creatures struck him doon as he ran.
While he fancies himself a great wizard, he’s nae hero. Still, I knelt by him an’ called upon me magic, mendin’ his wounds an’ draggin’ him back frae the brink. Then I turned tae the beast that felled him an’ swung me staff wi’ all the fury o’ the forest, crushin’ it wi’ a single blow.
After the battle, I bent tae inspect the bodies. The toad’s insides were riddled wi’ rot an’ decay, just like the wolves we’d seen afore. The tadpoles, though—those were nae natural creatures. Their innards were twisted an’ chaotic, as if some foul magic had forced them intae existence. ‘A twisted root bears bitter fruit,’ an’ this was proof o’ dark forces workin’ in these woods. I resolved at that moment to cleanse this forest of this evil.
We pressed on, followin’ the stream. Soon enough, we noticed a black, oily substance flowin’ wi’ the water, growin’ thicker wi’ every step we took. By evenin’, it led us tae a cliff wall, where the stream poured frae a crack in the rock like a festering wound.
Night was fallin’, an’ the light was failin’ fast. Not wantin’ tae camp near the cursed water, we struck oot inta the forest an’ found a clearin’ at the base o’ the bluff tae settle for the night.
Final notes
As I settle doon fer the night, me thoughts weigh heavy, like branches bent under fresh snow. This journey’s been a strange one already—wakin’ tae find meself younger, stronger, yet filled wi’ questions I cannae answer. Me scarf, a faithful companion through the years, is gone, replaced wi’ somethin’ unfamiliar, an’ the gaps in me memory are like dark hollows where light should shine. The wolves, the cursed toad, an’ the strange magic taintin’ the forest all speak tae somethin’ foul workin’ against the balance o’ nature. Still, fer all the unease, I find comfort in me companions—folk as mismatched as a patchwork quilt but standin’ together against the unknown. Whatever’s ahead, I ken we’ll face it, an’ I’ll do me part tae see us through. But fer now, I’ll rest, and prepare for what awaits us fer the forest grows greener where the flames have danced.