One square equals two kilometers. Walking a square by stone or grass takes 20 minutes.
The Grikes
Flat limestone fields spread between the mountains, cracks creep between the stones as empty veins. From the west most travelers arrive, but are deterred from approaching the village east.
Between the cracks rise the hands of the dead to grab the ankles of travelers. Travel over the grikes incurs a 2in6 chance of the PCs being grabbed and tripped by the undead. Those who fail a dexterous save fall and twist their ankle, incurring a movement penalty of half speed until rested fully for three days. The undead never clamber out of the cracks, the narrow crevices impossible for a person to coral through.
Yellow Gorse flowers grow plentiful in the cracks, whose petals are highly valued by villagers for their beauty. Local alchemists use it in healing folk salves.
The Village of Dun Durach
152 people reside in the settlement of stone and sod homes of thatched roofs. The village square features a tin statute of a young woman and man dancing arm in arm with blank expression. Decades ago people of neighboring villages would bring their children here to be matched and married during a summer festivity, but this practice fell out of favor when a young girl was murdered by her betrothed out of jealousy.
The cheesemaker Aofie requires fungi from the mountain caves to ripen their cheese, they will reward it with wheels of cheese. Wheels of cheese are sold for 2 gold.
The hawk keeper Brogan has 3 hawks which he keeps near his home enticed by hen chicks. They will follow directions for food, but once fed will ignore orders for the entire next day.
A old farmer, Thom, can no longer climb the mountains or walk the forest paths he loved as a child. Thom knows something hidden there, knows of the caves, the understreams, and proudly knows that only men dwell there and not monsters as told by old women (false). He knows the location of the Green Hut, but will insist it does not exist.
A villager, Niamv, awoke to a blue ribbon on her doorstep. Her brother, Eamon, hasn’t been seen in four days. She worries he was taken by the brook children or the manticore (false, Eamon left willingly to the Dun mountain to join the feather-men)
The Black Cliffs
White foam crashes along the black rock, scaling up 200 feet to the foot of the Dun Mountain. Sirens swim at the crashing pools below, imploring those at its edges to jump to them below. Save vs Spell or walk off the cliffs edge with faith in your heart.
Glimmering in the tide pools at the cliff base, among the anemones lay 5,000 silver pieces, 21 gemstones and 2d100 pearls.
The Round Tower
A circular tower rises two stories, its ceiling toppled inwards, leaving refuse piled under an open sky. Seagulls and crows make nests here. There is a 1in6 chance that a nest here contains a golden egg, its yolk staining all it touches gold.
10 meters away from the tower near the cliff’s edge is a weathered statue of a warrior. She wields a sword in her left hand, her right hand open and empty as if offering or accepting a gift. Any treasure left in the hand is taken by crows and flown to the feather-men of the mountain, but offerings of holly, gorse flower, raspberries and other such gifts will find them to be twice the amount left if returned the next morning. There must be no witnesses for the miracle to occur.
Lichen Patches
The patches of orange lichen grow in small patches on the stones, in areas of extreme growth it spreads like marmalade over toast. It grows abundant where the tunnels to the understreams peak upwards, careful scouring among the stones where the lichen grows reveal such tunnels in due time.
Orange Cave
The lichen grows most abundant along the north slope of the Haoir Mountain. Here it spreads for kilometers unbroken starting from the mouth of a shallow cave. It is 10 meters deep into the mountain, the orange lichen grows thick like a layer of skin over the rock. In the furthest corner of the cave lies an infant's skeleton that if moved all the orange lichen will wither brown and die in 2 weeks. There is one pearl in its ribcage.
Bonrut Manor
Once the fortified winter home of a mainlander noble family, a manticore now dwells within the 3 storied domicile. All the riches left behind now belong to the manticore as well as any previous servants along with a handful of new ones supplemented from Dun Durach by kidnapping. Each week there is a 1in8 chance the manticore will slink into the village at night, crying like an infant or a distressed cat to attract altruistic villagers. 3d6 servants are kept in Bonrut at the moment. They crawl like dogs at the manticore’s command.
Its mortared stone walls rise 4 meters and are reclaimed by ivy. The waves crash upon the shallow sea pools but a stone’s throw away.
Heirloom silver and jewels scattered the rooms, laid haphazard at the manticore's whims but dare not be moved by servants for fear of being thrashed and cut. If the manor is completely looted, its content’s are valued at 10,000 gold pieces.
The Gragan Wood
Pines, Holly, yew and oak stand tall together marching northward. An ancient wood of wide paths, unbroken by the scant logging of the island’s people. It is the only true forest of the isle found along this southern coast. Raspberries grow plentiful within the woods.
Traveling through the wood takes twice as long as it would over stone and grass.
Encounters d6.
1 - An ogre, smelling of sea salt, gathers urchins from the shallow pools to make dyes.
2 - 2d3 badgers.
3 - 2d6 boars.
4 - A murder of crows.
5 - 1d3 deer.
6 - 2d6 feather-men carving symbols into the trees.
Green Hut
A lonesome shack covered by a green wool cloth heavy with wet and mildew. It sways in and out like the structure had breath. Inside is a basin, a still pool of black water in which is submerged a head obscured by black hair. Those who stare into the water will see the white eyes of a beheaded woman. They must save vs Magic or immolate immediately. Overturning the basin of water will spread flames, igniting the water as if it were burning oil. The head too will catch fire but never burn to destruction. It can only be extinguished by throwing it into the sea.
The Understreams
Below the stone in hidden throats lie the water which always speaks. The brook children swim the babbling streams, know its syntax and structures, who are able to guide outsiders through the ever dark and narrow wormholes. Those who travel the understreams travel kilometers within minutes.
Brook children are seen in the corners of eyes. A meter tall with silver skin and cow eyes, pure black and pretty. They become invisible in water. They collect pearls and abhor brass, taking double damage if struck with such metals. They would speak to you of the things they saw, but they speak only river water.
Anyone not guided by a brook child has a 5in6 chance of being lost in the understreams. Their shouts can not be heard from the outside. Those who die here become the dead among the grikes who pull the ankles of travelers.
Entrances to the understreams are found near where orange lichen grows.
The Mountains
The Haoir and Dun are low, rolling mountains rising some hundred of meters above the sea. Ascending either takes thrice the time as if walking by stone or grass.
Dun Mountain Encounters d6.
1 - A murder of crows.
2 - 2d6 Feather-men.
3 - 2d3 hares.
4 - A fox.
5 - A ghoul.
6 - A frightened brook child.
Haoir Mountain Encounters d6.
1 - 1d6 Corvids
2 - 2d6 Feather-men.
3 - 3d6 goats.
4 - 3d6 Feather-men.
5 - A hare.
6 - 2d3 Corvids.
Cave of Feathers
The west slope of Haoir mountain teems with feather-men. Armored in leather stuck with crow feathers and black capes, they wield axes, scythes and farmer’s weapons. Their duty is in scaring the villagers of Dun Durach, dancing as boogins on the mountain, the stuff of scare-tales made for children to stay home.
Their ranks are old but now they take the initiative to seek new acolytes within the youth of the village, looking to the future to preserve their ways.
They keep a secret. To become a giant crow, one must cut off their lips and nose, stick feathers all over their skin, then swallow a clutch of mold and 100 pearls. Lastly, one gives a gift to the family or friends they leave behind. They become wicked giant corvids, flying large as black boats in the skies, able to see through the eyes of crows.
In the center of the cave, 120 meters down, there grows a sacred stalactite, fluid slick, centered above a smooth black boulder crushing the body of a living druid. Chained in runic brass the druid’s hands and feet are pinned, rasping for breath as water, in a drip drop pace, pours upon his lips. A slime grows where the stalactite's droplets hit the black stone, a jellied mold quivering.
The black boulder can be lifted as if it were a pebble, but only by a giant corvid. If the druid were to be freed, he would immediately shift into a starling and erratically fly out of the cave. He does not speak your tongue. Damsel Fair and Your Angel
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