Chapter 1: Year 1281, Summer

Lurchette makes her way to where you are all standing.

You rang, little miss? she says, voice sweet.

You all leave the house, after some tasty breakfast, and head off towards the big park across the street. Uriel and Marie-Louise are familiar with this edge of the park, having spent enough time here apart as well as together in the past. The trees are thick and lush with their summer growth, and everything smells faintly of flowers and dew, even though the ground appears to be dry. Pockets of mist linger in some of the thicker areas, and low fields of moss and clover spread across anywhere it can take hold. Through the trees, you can make out the shape of figures moving through the shadows. Nearly everyone across Feyshear are familiar with the Feyknights and their retinues that stalk the wooded areas.

Survival checks to try spotting the big goblin that Marie-Louise saw!

You begin searching around, and spot some strange footprints in the ground near a large oak tree. While they appear to be vaguely goblinoid, they look very different. To start with, they are much larger than normal. Additionally, they are pressed into the ground strangely. Where normal prints from goblins would have the toes digging in with the claws, these seem to be more towards the ball of the foot.

Up in the tree you hear a giggle and see the ruddy scales of a large goblin leg disappearing into the foliage.

You hear slightly more giggling, and see a few wisps of smoke floating away from the branches.

Peering through the branches, there's nothing else that you can see up there, though you hear a disembodied voice call out, a tinge of eerie lilting through the voice.

Where were you when the goblin king danced on the brows of the feylords? The green is coming and in the shade of the plants, the pixies will have their merriment.

The feylords are many and the feylords are vast. Lords and ladies, caught between the living and the dead, seeing all and none. They bring the green like a plague, swallowing your children and damning the land! comes the same disembodied voice, from a different angle than last time.

In the distance, you see a few of the feyknights walking through the mist stop and turn towards your group tentatively.

Tsk tsk, riddles are for sphinxes and treasure boxes. I speak not in riddles, the green, the GREEN. It's all around you duskwalker. the voice calls out, a hint of a sneer in the voice.

Who said I wasn't fey? You bear the mark of one who has had family dance in the moonlight beyond the portal. Do you not recognize the touch of your kin? the voice says, almost as if the creature was speaking directly in your ear, yet you feel no breath and no body.

But you are astute, far more than you seemed at first. Everything is the green and the green is everything. War ravages the planes, and you are all but pawns in the game.