The adventure begins at the Three Ducks Inn, where the King's Road crosses the River Elinor. To the south, the river enters the Mysterrik Grove, a dense forest that once prospered under the rule of Sir Roland, a worthy knight.

Now, the Grove is returning to wilderness, populated only by hunters, hermits, and woodsmen living in their own small isolated settlements. The Woods Village is deserted and falling to pieces. There is said to be a monastery somewhere in the forest, an inn, and the remains of Sir Roland’s keep.

The Grove is technically under the control of Baron Whitethorne, whose castle stands on the eastern edge of the forest. The former baron died recently and his son has been away at wars in the south.

A well-dressed young man, Roger of Brettcastle, is looking to hire someone to recover a family heirloom -- the enchanted sword Silvermoon. He is descended from Sir Roland on his mother’s side.

Although he tells the family it is his mother’s wish to see Silvermoon back in the possession of their family, his real reason is more personal. He is desperately in love with a young lady named Emily Holmswood, and plans to make a gift of the sword to her father, in hopes that Sir Jacob Holmswood will relent and permit them to marry. His mother knows nothing about any of this, and hasn’t so much as thought of the sword in over twenty years.

Roger is a handsome but thin and anemic-looking youth, overly dramatic in his speech and mannerisms. He prefers poetry to combat and is a bit of a personal coward, unable to brave the Grove to recover the sword himself.

He will offer a substantial sum of gold (borrowed; Roger dresses well but is sorely in debt) if the party will agree to retrieve the sword from Sir Roland's tomb.

Roger's Story:

Thank you, friends, for meeting with me. I muchly admire those of your stripe, brave and bold and capable. That is why I have sought you. If you would do a good deed, and earn gold for it, then I have a task that needs doing.

My ancestor, Sir Roland, was a knight of renown. Perhaps you have heard of him? The forest to the west was once his holding. Long years ago, it was a thriving trade route between the kingdoms. Now, well, these are hard times. The wilds have all but reclaimed the forest.

But I digress, good people. I did not send for you to gain your support in regaining the land. I have neither use nor desire for it. But the sword, that is another matter.

You have heard the story of Silvermoon? No? My goodly ancestor Sir Roland was gifted the sword in his youth by a dark and lovely princess of a foreign land, as a reward for rescuing her from an evil giant.

The sword is said to be uncommonly beautiful, the hilt set with diamonds and moonstones. Silver runes dance along the blade, which shall never lose its shine or edge. All the tales agree that whosoever wields the blade is rendered immune to fear and injury while the full moon is in the sky, and it is a bane-blade against shapeshifters.

For all of his life, Sir Roland wore it and was never defeated, until that one enemy that stalks us all finally waylaid him and stole his life. Time, that fiend, struck him down with the indignities of age. When he died, he left it to his son, and it was handed down for generations ... but then the last male of the family, having sired only daughters, decided to lock the sword away in the family crypt when he became too old and infirm to wield it.

The youngest of those daughters of which I speak is in fact my own mother, who would like nothing better than to see her father’s sword return to our family. I am her only son and would do anything to make this wish of hers come true.

I mean no ill toward the dead, and I am not by nature a robber of graves. Had the sword been entombed with Sir Roland, I would never dream of taking it, but it only waits hanging on the wall within the crypt. For such brave and daring folk as yourselves, it should be a simple matter to retrieve it for me.

Into the Grove:

The best way to enter the woods is along the river. The Three Ducks is a station along the Elinor; it is an easy matter to buy passage on a river barge headed south and disembark in the Grove.

There is a dock at the bridge where Woods Road crosses the Grove, eventually climbing into the mountain pass leading to the neighboring kingdom.

The river is smooth and the trip is uneventful, though the clouds building in the valleys tell of an approaching early-winter storm.

The Grove itself is deep and dark, full of gloomy trees, overhanging boughs, and flowers nestled in the moss. The animals are skittish, fearful of something besides hunters. Any horses or animals in the party will pick up on this nervousness.

Near the bridge is a ramshackle wooden dock and a small hut. The hut is drafty, leaky, and long since abandoned. A bare, muddy trail with two deeper ruts leads from the bridge into the heart of the woods. This is the Woods Road.

The Monastery:

The road passes a tall stone building with a bell tower, but on closer inspection the building was gutted by fire and abandoned weeks ago. There are no signs of reconstruction.

This was once a monastery. The altar in the remains of the main chapel is tipped over and a wooden board is propped on it. Nailed to the board is a human skull, and under it are following words:

"Let these smoking ruins stand as a warning to all who would be against me. Let this foolish priest speak of his fate through silent, fleshless jaws. Shadowbrow."

Scrawled around the edges of the sign in a crude border are several symbols of dark magic; a scholar can identify them as having no particular power, but enough to convince the uneducated observer that an evil curse is at work.

Sir Roland's Keep:

This fork was once a wide road, but it is now overgrown with weeds. The forest crowds in more closely than ever as the leaden sky begins to spit granules of snow.

A mournful howl and the occasional sighting of eyes in the darkening gloom informs the party that they are being stalked by a pack of scrawny wolves. These wolves will not attack, and will flee if confronted, but given the opportunity to make off with a small or weak target, they will.

The keep itself was once fine and now ramshackle. It is a stone tower with an outer wall and a strong gate. Smoke curls from the chimney and light gleams in the windows. The smell of cooking meat drifts tauntingly on the wind.

The keep is now held by a rugged family of hunters. They are superstitious and reclusive, distrustful. If the party can convince the father, a man named Gerrek Hawkeye, of their harmlessness, he will grudgingly let them in, though inform them that his hospitality extends for this one night only.

Gerrek's family consists of his wife (Anna), two grown sons (Harold and Steven), a daughter (Nona), a daughter-in-law (Susan), and a toddler grandson (Young Gerrek). All the men are big and strong, bearded, dressed in furs, leather, and wool. Their hands never stray far from their bows. The women are of sturdy working stock, pretty in a hard way, and carry knives.

The entire family, except for the toddler, seem nervous and distrustful. Only Gerrek is very talkative. He will invite the party to share food, and offer them a patch of floor near the fire to sleep. Dinner is roast venison, brown bread, and a thick root stew.

After dinner, the family moves to sit around the fire. The sons take turns watching by the windows, sharpening knives or fletching arrows. The women spin wool and sew. Eventually, Gerrek will be enough at ease to talk about what has them all so edgy.

Gerrek's Story:

You've eaten cooked meat, so I guess you're all right, though you have the smell of bad luck about you.

Sure and we're scared. Everyone in the woods has good reason to be. Ever since Baron Whitethorne died, and his son fell sick, bad times have come to Mysterrik.

Some say it's a curse ... if you came from the river, you may've seen the monastery. They're gone, all gone, and no one knows whether they're dead or alive ... though I've heard tell one of them left his skull, so that's one dead at least.

Last month, Toric the woodcutter and his family was found killed in their own house. Torn to bits. I did not see for myself, but I've heard they was part eaten, too. And footprints was found all around the mess. Human, by the look of them, and bare as a babe's.

It's almost enough to make me think of leaving, though this keep's been our home since my father was a boy. Old Sir Roland wasn't using it anymore. As for his tomb, well, he's still using that. I'll not meddle with a dead man's resting place, though some others might.

If you must camp in the woods, which you probably must do, since you’ll find no more lodging here, set a watch and build a high fire. What beasts may run in the night are not fond of fire. Snow is coming. This bit of powder is nothing. My storm-shoulder, what I broke when I was but a boy, tells me a blizzard is coming.

The Tomb of Sir Roland:

A few miles from the keep is the stone tomb, in the middle of a modest graveyard. The snow begins to fall, brightening the dismal woods. A few deer step carefully around the headstones, but bound away at the first sign of the party. They show none of the nervousness of the other animals.

The tomb is square, with an iron door flanked by two pillars. Over the door is a stone shield carved with the device of moon-phases over a leafy tree. Written beneath are the words:

Here in eternal rest doth lie Sir Roland of the Grove, whose life was lived well and in the service of all things honorable.

The door is rusty and a drift of snow is piled in front of it. It is not locked, and will swing open with a rusty squeal if pushed. Beyond is a chill, dark room.

A large, ornate stone casket engraved with heroic scenes rests on a dais. Along the walls are the tattered remains of tapestries. Against the back wall is a stone table holding two brass candleholders surrounded by dribbles of wax, a carved wooden tray, and an earthenware jug, tipped over.

The most recent addition to the tomb’s interior is a wooden plaque affixed over the door. It is polished and has brass fittings, and a pair of braces suitable for supporting a broadsword ... but they are empty. The sword is nowhere to be seen.

The lid of the casket is heavy, but it can be moved if the party wishes to investigate. Within is a body wrapped in linen. Resting on the body's chest is a shield, and by the head is a helm. Silvermoon is not here either.

The Wolf Pack:

Gerrek will refuse to allow the party back into the keep although the storm is worsening. He'll suggest instead that they make their way eastward, toward Whitethorne Castle, where someone might know what happened at the tomb. If they stick to the main road, he says, they should reach the Sign of the Oak Tree before dark.

They don’t. Despite their best efforts, the storm delays them and forces them to make camp in the woods. That night, a pack of wolves attack. These are the thin wolves from before, but there are more of them now and they are determined. Though scrawny, they are cunning and strong. The leader is an iron-grey brute with a ragged ear, seeming nearly as intelligent as a man.

The wolves are the pets and friends of Shadowbrow, the werewolf responsible for the slaughter at the monastery and the deaths of the woodcutter and his family. During the attack, he remains out of sight but uses his magic to experience and direct the battle through the eyes of the wolf with the ragged ear.

Shadowbrow was once a talented wizard. He was traveling through the woods when he was attacked by a werewolf. He killed his foe and survived, only to find that the curse continued in his blood.

Mentally unbalanced by the experience, he quickly retired from normal society and took up a reclusive life with the wolfpack. He can change form anytime day or night, no matter what the phase of the moon; during the full moon, he finds it very difficult but not impossible to resist the change into wolf-form.

As a human, he is a middle-aged man in excellent physical condition, with brown hair and a beard starting to go grey, and brown eyes. In wolf-form, he is a dark greyish-brown with yellow eyes, far larger than any of the others in the pack. He is a skilled enough wizard to be able to use much of his magic while in wolf-form.

The death and wounding of his wolves will enrage him, but he will not risk another attack right away. Instead, he will follow the party, looking for an opportunity to exact his revenge. He has lived in the woods for so long that his presence is nearly undetectable, even without the use of illusion-magic.

Sign of the Oak Tree

The party finally reaches the inn around midday, when the blizzard lessens to a heavy snowfall. The inn is built of thick logs, and is loud, warm, and cozy. The good scents of spiced potatoes and stew fill the air, and business is already brisk with hunters and woodsmen engaging in typical barroom activities: trying to outdrink each other, swapping tall tales, and telling off-color jokes.

People at the inn:

Rolf Bighands-- not as round or jolly as the typical innkeeper, but full of gruff good humor.

Sura-- Rolf's wife and cook. Plain-featured, but with a sweet face and smile.

Thurgald-- Rolf and Sura's son, accomplished hunter, quiet by nature.

Brecie-- Rolf and Sura's daughter, long blond braids and apple cheeks, a flirt.

Karl-- twelve-year-old stableboy.

Lefty, Ayrek, Lars the Lucky, Tom Miller, Walter the Bear, Will Blackholm-- some of the patrons.

Helen-- statuesque red-haired barmaid, ready to break a man's finger if he gets too friendly.

Ironjaw Bill-- half-drunk and still winning wrestling matches.

Ironjaw Bill has recently sold a load of furs and is celebrating by taking on all challengers in contests of wrestling, singing, and drinking. He is a huge barrel-chested man with bright green eyes and a wild mane of hair and beard. His manners are atrocious but he is generous and has a good sense of humor.

The party will be welcomed, greeted with some curiosity at first, but they will quickly fit in if they start drinking, buying drinks for the house, or getting involved in Ironjaw's contests.

Shortly after they arrive, another man bundled up in furs will come in. He will keep to himself and not take part in any of the contests, discouraging conversation. He appears to be nothing more than another hunter, but he is really Shadowbrow, having followed the party here with the intent of killing them in their sleep.

Kellina Whitethorne:

As dusk falls and the storm begins to whoop again outside, the door opens and a slight, snow-covered figure in a heavy maroon cloak comes in. It is a young woman, whose clothes are well-made dyed wool, and she carries a cloth-wrapped bundle that is suspiciously sword-shaped.

She has dark curly hair that falls to her shoulders, brown eyes, and a very pretty face. She is greeted with some cheers, jeers, and lewd catcalls, which she tries to ignore, though the red in her face cannot all be attributed to the cold.

Anyone trying to get a peek at the sword she is carrying will find that it is of uncommon beauty, with diamonds and a moonstone in the hilt. Silvermoon. The girl is Kellina, daughter of the late Baron Whitethorne, and she has been seeking a sympathetic ear to unburden her story.

Kellina's Story:

My father died last summer, of the wasting sickness. My mother was shattered, and my brother was away at the wars in the south, so my father’s friend Lord Dernhelm took over looking after the barony. Just until Geoffrey came home. That, at least, is what he would have liked us to believe.

It took months for our message to reach Geoff, and in that time Lord Dernhelm has gotten very fond of his place. I believe his interest in my mother is more than seemly, though she is too deep in mourning to notice. And there is Josef ... Lord Dernhelm’s son. The two of them fancy me for Josef’s bride, though I cannot abide the sight of him.

Geoff returned two weeks ago, and promptly fell ill with the same wasting sickness that claimed my father. So Lord Dernhelm has agreed to stay on and take care of things until Geoff is well ... but I think he has something else in mind. I think he plans for Geoffrey’s death. If that happens, all of my father’s properties come to me, and I don’t doubt that Josef’s suit will become even more insistent.

In my darkest moments, I wonder about Geoff’s illness ... I even wonder about my father’s. They were friends for longer than I can recall, but ...

And then I wonder what will happen to me if I continue to refuse Josef? Will I be the next to fall ill? And leave my mother alone and grief-stricken, heir to all and easy prey for Lord Dernhelm’s persuasions?

My only hope is to find help for Geoffrey. None of the physicians in town have been able to do anything, and I don’t know whether that is because they honestly cannot or because Lord Dernhelm has convinced them it’s best not to. I would have sought the advice of the monks, but then we learned of the fire at the monastery.

That leaves me one choice. My Nana Bernice, my mother’s grandmother, is an alchemist and herbalist. She was cast out of the town before my parents married, because people accused her of witchcraft and feared what influence she might have on their baron. If anyone can find a cure for Geoff, it is she.

And so I am on my way there. I couldn’t trust anyone else with this, not even a guard to ride with me, because I don’t know who might be under the sway of Lord Dernhelm. Luckily, I have my brother’s sword and although I am a mere girl, can use it capably.

The Sword:

Two years ago, as a young inquisitive man, Geoffrey Whitethorne heard about the enchanted sword and decided to see if the rumors were true. He brought it home with him from the tomb. It served him well, but wasn’t able to prevent him from getting sick.

He allowed Kellina to take it because he knew that Josef Dernhelm covets the sword almost as much as the woman, and wasn’t strong enough to protect either on his own.

If asked, Kellina will unwrap the sword and show it to the party; unlike everyone else, who distrust strangers, she is actually relieved because strangers are less likely to be in Dernhelm’s pocket.

Silvermoon's scabbard is grey leather, sewn with silver thread. The steel fittings at the top and bottom are intricately worked in floral designs (scholars might be able to identify it as wolfsbane).

The blade is polished steel, worked with silver designs of the phases of the moon. A round-cut diamond graces each side of the handguard, and a large, smooth moonstone is set in the pommel.

Because of its magic, it is stronger and sharper than a normal sword, and does extra damage against any sort of shape-shifter. During the full moon, it bestows a total resistance to pain and an immunity to fear on the wielder, though this can backfire and lead to recklessness.

Josef Dernhelm:

The door opens, admitting a swirl of snow and three guardsmen with crossbows. The atmosphere in the inn changes at once, even before the leader of the crossbowmen steps in and Kellina gasps in dismay.

The leader is a young man with black hair, blue eyes, and an arrogant sneer. This is Josef Dernhelm, whose father figured out where Kellina must be going and sent him to fetch her back. Seeing that she also has the sword only delights Josef further.

If by now the party isn’t in the thick of things, Kellina will draw Silvermoon (and because it is the first night of the full moon, fall under its spell of fearlessness). She attacks enthusiastically and a battle breaks out.

The guards are armed with crossbows, broadswords, and knives. Josef himself has a broadsword and is far better with it than Kellina; he is the equal of the best swordsman in the party. They are trying not to harm Kellina but everyone else is fair game. Most of the patrons might not want to be drawn into a fight against the son of Lord Dernhelm, but trouble has a way of spreading around.

Dernhelm’s men will attempt to retreat if things go badly; Josef is overconfident but not a fool. He has dispatched three other men to go ahead and intercept her on the road, and if things go badly for him here at the inn, he will attempt to join them.

Kellina knows Josef won’t give up. If they haven’t already offered, she will ask the party to accompany her the rest of the way, and agree to give up the sword as a reward for their help. She’s far more interested in saving her brother’s life.

If the party refuses, or if they are bested and Josef carries Kellina off, Shadowbrow will sneak into their rooms to try and kill them; upon realizing that they are dealing with a shapeshifter, it will become even more important to find Silvermoon.

Shadowbrow:

He stays out of the entire fight, partly because he doesn’t trust himself to resist the change into wolf-form, partly because he instinctively fears Silvermoon. But he remains in his corner throughout the battle and aftermath.

Having overheard the party’s decision to escort Kellina to Nana’s house, Shadowbrow comes up with a plan. He will slip out, transform into a wolf, gather the healthiest members of his pack, and race through the night to set a trap.

Along the way, the pack encounters Dernhelm’s other men camping in the woods, and slaughter them all (if Josef has already reached them, he escapes with his life, though not without being bit by Shadowbrow himself).

At the cottage, Shadowbrow overpowers the old woman, uses his magic to put her into an enchanted sleep, hides her, and then lies in wait for the party using one of his illusion spells to make himself look like her. Then, when they are off-guard, he plans to pounce.

The party will find what is left of the guards, and recognize the wolfpack’s handiwork. The running footsteps of the only survivor (Josef) lead back toward the main road. All appears to be settled, and they can continue on their way in peace.

What Big Eyes You Have:

The party reaches Nana Bernice’s house in the afternoon. The storm has cleared and the sun is out, making everything sparkle in this pretty section of the forest. The snow makes her cottage look charming and picturesque. She is apparently fond of little stone garden gnomes, because several of them peep through the drifts.

The lady herself is a sweet grandmotherly type with white hair, spectacles perched on the end of her nose, and a ruffled apron. Her kitchen smells of fresh bread and spices. She will bustle about, offering tea and cookies, fussing over the party and Kellina.

Her manner is too nice, making Kellina suspicious, but the moment she begins to voice it, “Nana” will vanish and Shadowbrow will be there -- aside from noticing him at the inn, he’s a stranger to them all.

His first act will be to clout Kellina senseless. Because the full moon is not yet risen, she is unaffected by Silvermoon’s spells against pain and fear. She falls unconscious.

Shadowbrow rants at the party, accusing them of murdering his friends, then fling open the cellar door to allow the wolves that have been waiting below to stream into the kitchen. As the fight begins, Shadowbrow will howl and tear his clothes, beginning his own transformation.

Silvermoon retains its other powers, and should make quick work of the werewolf-wizard. The rest of the wolves will flee into the woods if he is killed (he reverts to human form upon death). Nana Bernice can be found unharmed in the bedroom closet, and Kellina recovers quickly.

Conclusion:

When she has the medicine she believes will save her brother, Kellina invites the party to accompany her and Nana Bernice to Whitethorne Castle. Her brother will want to thank them for their help. The medicine works, and it is revealed that not only Geoffrey but his father were poisoned by agents of Lord Dernhelm.

The lord is arrested and jailed. His son is missing and presumed dead. With no other Dernhelm heirs, Geoffrey will offer Dernhelm Manor and the title that goes with it to the party.

He also agrees with Kellina that they may keep Silvermoon as promised, and they can complete their adventure by journeying back to the Three Ducks to deliver it to Roger of Brettcastle.

If used as part of an ongoing campaign, the Whitethornes will make good allies, Kellina has strong love-interest potential, and Josef Dernhelm is still out there, as a recurring villain most deadly during the full moon ... especially deadly if the sword has in fact been given to Roger ...

Author’s Note:

I’ve run this game three separate times at conventions and a variation of it as part of a long-running campaign, and it’s always interesting to see just at what point the players realize they are smack in the middle of Little Red Riding Hood.

Sometimes Kellina’s maroon cloak is the tip-off, sometimes it’s not until she mentions being on her way to gramma’s house, but the most fun was when the penny didn’t drop until right there in the kitchen. In each case, the outraged groans from the players were a genuine joy to hear!

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