The river whispered softly beneath their boat, its slow current winding through the plains east of Secomber, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and ancient earth. Days had passed since they left Waterdeep behind, the hum of civilization fading into the quiet murmur of wind and water. Before them loomed the High Forest—a wall of green so dense it seemed less a woodland and more a living boundary between worlds.
It did not ease them into its embrace. The forest began abruptly, as if the trees had decided where the wild should begin and made it so. Their trunks crowded the banks, their crowns locked together overhead, forming a canopy so thick it turned daylight to dim twilight. Even the river seemed to bow beneath it, narrowing into a shadowed corridor.
When the boat crossed the threshold, the air itself changed.
A calm, heavy peace pressed over them like a soft, warm blanket. Maledurk’s claws relaxed on the oars as his shoulders slumped. For a heartbeat, he imagined lying back, letting the boat drift, surrendering to the hush of the place. Then instinct screamed. He shook his head hard, gritting his teeth until the fog receded.
Something—someone—was trying to still their minds.
Elora felt it too, though differently. The sensation resonated deep within her blood, familiar in its rhythm and texture. She knew this spell. It was not cruel, nor was it kind—it was ancient elven magic, woven into the forest itself, meant to soothe intruders until they turned away. She touched the gunwale, murmuring a prayer of thanks to the trees for their restraint. “They are not trying to harm us,” she said softly, “only to make us forget why we came.”
Thorn, however, felt no need to resist. The forest welcomed him. Its song filled his bones like the echo of a childhood lullaby long forgotten. The scent of sap and moss, the whisper of needles brushing each other high above—this was home. Not the islands across the sea, but something older, deeper, bound to him by blood and memory.
Tempest giggled at a dragonfly the size of her hand.
They rowed on, the world narrowing around them. The forest seemed to pulse with quiet intent, its branches bending subtly toward them, its roots arching away from the water as though the river itself were sacred ground. When Elora offered to fly ahead, the others agreed, and she took the form of an eagle—broad-winged, sharp-eyed, gleaming gold in what little light pierced the canopy.
But the forest was not meant to be mapped.
Twice she flew into promising openings, paths that might have led westward. Twice she found herself turned about, emerging back where she began, the boat gliding placidly below. On her third flight, she noticed something stranger still: the same path that moments ago had led her right now bent left. When she followed, it simply folded her back to the river’s edge as though space itself were being rewritten.
She returned to the boat and resumed her elven form, pale and troubled. “The forest is alive,” she whispered. “It isn’t keeping us out. It’s… steering us.”
Thorn’s expression softened with understanding. “Then perhaps we are not lost at all,” he said. “Perhaps we are being shown where to go.”
So they stayed together and let the river guide them deeper. The trees leaned close now, their trunks thick as towers, their bark glistening with dew like cold sweat. The river forked—one branch running west, narrow but deep enough to bear their folding boat. Maledurk hesitated, his golden eyes scanning the darkness ahead. “That’s the direction she told us,” he said, “but I don’t like how it’s inviting us in.”
Still, they went.
The passage closed over them, a tunnel of wood and shadow. The air smelled rich and green, but beneath it pulsed something electric—magic thick enough to taste. The trees above had woven themselves together into a vaulted ceiling, but none grew toward the water below, as though the stream forbade it.
Elora’s eyes flared faintly as she called upon her druidic sight. For a moment, her vision filled with light. Every leaf, every pebble, every breath shimmered with magic. It was not an enchantment laid over the land—it was the land. The forest and its magic were the same thing. And Thorn… Thorn was not merely surrounded by it. He was part of it.
When they left the boat behind and stepped into one of the winding paths, the air grew warmer, almost expectant. Thorn took the lead, guided by instinct more than sight. The others followed close behind, wary but trusting. The path bent, turned, doubled back—until two trees shifted aside of their own accord, revealing a new trail that had not existed a moment before.
Maledurk’s hand tightened on his axe. “That’s not supposed to happen.”
“No,” Thorn murmured, awe in his voice. “It’s answering.”
They pressed onward. The forest seemed to breathe around them, reshaping itself in silence. Where Thorn thought of Jareth, the path turned gently west. Where his resolve faltered, the branches swayed overhead, whispering reassurance. The druid felt it too—a vast, wordless consciousness guiding their steps.
Tempest tripped over a root and burst into delighted laughter.
Then, abruptly, the laughter died.
Maledurk’s keen eyes caught movement—a shadow leaping from tree to tree above them, silent as mist. An elf, he thought, though it moved like no elf he’d ever seen. Its feet barely touched the branches; its gaze flicked down at them, calm and knowing, before vanishing into the green ahead.
He exhaled slowly. “We’re being watched.”
Thorn nodded. “Good,” he said. “That means we’re close.”
And so the forest swallowed them whole.
Recap of prior events and setup for current objective The party had returned to Waterdeep and conducted research into planar threats and powerful entities. They met with the Blackstaff of Waterdeep (Vajra Safahr), who: A previously encountered disembodied voice (connected to the Emerald Enclave) invited the group to meet in person in the High Forest. After several days in Waterdeep, the party departed using the Wand of Teleportation, arriving at a fork in the river east of Secomber (a place they had traveled long ago). Travel logistics: Approach to the High Forest and initial entry Crossing the forest threshold: Wisdom saving throws and effects Upon entering the forested river tunnel, the DM called for Wisdom saving throws: Aerial reconnaissance attempt by Elora Plan: Elora proposed to Wild Shape into an eagle to scout for settlements/paths. Flight along the river: observations First path probe (as eagle) Second path probe (as eagle) Detect Magic by Elora (after dropping Wild Shape) Elora cast Detect Magic and perceived pervasive magic: Interpreting the forest’s guidance; decision to continue by river and stay together Insights: Decision: Remain together and continue upriver to seek a better entrance. Forest shifts and a new approach Small western fork discovered; the party turns into it They reached a narrow fork—a stream (~8–10 ft wide) joining from the west/left, still navigable by the folding boat. They took the western branch. Observations inside the narrower waterway: Nature–magic assessment Plan to proceed overland carefully, led by Thorn Proposal: Disembark and head west as a group, without hacking at the forest; move carefully to avoid damaging branches and provoking the forest. Action: Intention setting and the forest’s response Deeper travel under guidance The party continued westward along a winding path; occasionally trees moved to accommodate their route. Perception states: Silent observer sighted Maledurk spotted a humanoid elf leaping silently from one tree to another above the party, looking down at them. Session endSession Notes