The Terror of Ravensfield

Well, the dust has settled after the whole "festival fiasco". Time to pack up our slightly singed robes and head north to Ravensfield, Hayley's stomping ground as the resident village witch. Apparently, strange happenings are afoot – missing items and animal attacks. Sounds like a typical Haulday for us, right?
 
Speaking of Hauldays, getting out of Keralon involved a healthy dose of nostalgia. We unearthed the trusty old cart that carried us on our first adventure all those years ago. Talk about a blast from the past! Hayley even managed to snag a draft horse to pull the cart, completing the whole "teenagers-moving-away-from-home" aesthetic.
 
Before we set off, Hayley gave Alistan and Gael a not-so-subtle nudge. Apparently, her Ravensfield companions fought on the opposite side during the Fenhunter war. Let's just say "awkward conversations" were to be avoided.
 
Our journey north was a peaceful affair. Keralon's bustling streets quickly gave way to a quiet, dusty road, snaking its way along the edge of the mysterious Lorewood. Lush green hills rolled by, the perfect backdrop for a relaxing (and thankfully monster-free) journey.
 
After three uneventful days, Ravensfield finally emerged from the rolling green hills. Unlike the sleepy village I remembered from my last visit (which must have been shortly after I got married with Lyra), a flurry of activity buzzed through the streets. People of all races – humans, dragonborn, even a couple of kobolds scurrying around with buckets – were working feverishly on a massive barn.
 
The scene resembled a chaotic beehive, with ropes straining and hammers pounding in a rhythmic symphony of construction. Overseeing the whole operation was a clipboard-wielding figure, a stranger neither Hayley nor I recognized. But we did spot Saphira, Hayley’s dragonborn friend waving to us from the roof.
 
Hayley flitted over to Bart, the village baker, with a friendly greeting. After some small talk about the Keralon festival, the conversation turned to the puzzling thefts plaguing Ravensfield. Apparently, loaves of bread were disappearing in broad daylight, but the coin collections were left untouched. Talk about picky thieves!
 
Bart recounted the tale of his missing bread, stolen while he was momentarily distracted in the back. Hayley, ever the resourceful witch (and, let's be honest, a little eager to sink her teeth into a juicy mystery), promised to investigate. We were then introduced as her trusty companions, ready to lend a hand (or, in Gael's case, a well-placed arrow).
 
The barn, Hayley learned, was being built by a group called the Restoration Society. Apparently, they were dedicated to rebuilding the war-torn countryside, and Ravensfield seemed like the perfect base of operations. More importantly, they offered good pay, a fact confirmed by Bart's enthusiastic nod towards the clipboard-wielding Dan, the man funding the whole construction project.
 
Not willing to waste too much time, we headed on. Soon enough, Hayley's cabin, nestled amidst the trees, greeted us like a familiar friend. Zem, her kobold companion, stood guard outside, his beady eyes glinting with a mix of excitement and mischief (knowing Zem, it was probably a healthy dose of both). As the one who sent the frantic letter, he seemed genuinely relieved to see us.
 
The cabin itself hadn't changed a bit. A large, welcoming room with a massive table, perfect for gatherings of all shapes and sizes. Zem, bless his resourceful heart, offered a steaming pot of tea and a plate of (admittedly slightly stale) biscuits. Apparently, Bart's recent commitment to barn construction had impacted the local pastry economy.
 
Without wasting any time, Hayley delved into the mystery that had been plaguing the village. Zem confirmed the thefts, adding that they seemed to occur around sunrise or early morning. The stolen items had shifted from survival gear to mostly food in recent days.
 
Liliana, suggested a fey creature might be the culprit. Alistan, the pragmatist of the group, inquired about any tracks. Zem described a large footprint, a bizarre hybrid of draconic and feline features. Apparently, Saphira and Zem couldn't agree on the creature's identity (shocking, I know).
 
Zem continued, detailing the creature's attacks on livestock and pets. Two unfortunate shepherds had also lost their lives in a sheep-related incident. Thankfully, that seemed to be the last major attack. However, the increasing frequency of tracks closer to the village had Zem worried.
 
Armed with a healthy dose of curiosity (and a slightly stale biscuit in my stomach), we followed Zem out of the village and towards the forest's edge. There, amidst the tall grass, Zem had marked off a section using sticks. In the center lay the culprit's calling card: a set of large, impressive footprints.
 
Gael and Hayley crouched down for a closer look. The tracks belonged to a massive creature, easily horse-sized or larger. It bore a resemblance to those of a drake, but with an unexpected twist – four toes instead of the usual three.
 
Gael confirmed it was unlike any creature he'd encountered. Liliana chimed in with the possibility of another construct, like the one we faced earlier.
 
With a determined glint in his eye, Gael wasted no time. He followed the tracks deeper into the forest, their age a testament to the passage of time. After an hour of navigating the dense woods, the trail abruptly vanished in a sun-dappled clearing. The prints seemed to meander back and forth, almost as if the creature were searching for something, or perhaps even engaged in a fight.
 
We scoured the clearing, finding nothing but a chilling reminder of the beast – a large, severed claw and a handful of glistening black scales.
 
Gael suggested a teleportation ability if it were a construct. My attempt at a quick tracking ritual proved fruitless, unsurprising considering the time elapsed.
 
Shifting gears, Gael inquired about the sheep attack, and Zem offered to guide him to the survivors. Alistan scooped up the claw and scales as evidence.
 
As we crossed the village, we encountered a group of wary shepherds clutching longbows. Zem introduced us, explaining Gael's desire to speak with the sheep who witnessed the attack.
 
The shepherds watched in amusement as Gael launched into a series of bleats and baas. The sheep, in turn, exploded into a flurry of excited bleating of their own. Apparently, the language barrier between Gael and the ovine kind was nonexistent.
 
Their conversation, however, proved mostly unhelpful. The sheep described a terrifying shadow, blood, claws, and something about spikes and a tail (not unlike the information we'd already gleaned). The shepherds, ever exasperated by their flock's lack of self-preservation, used the opportunity to vent their frustrations. They couldn't understand why the sheep insisted on wandering off in all directions.
 
Gael, acting as translator, relayed the sheep's simple but profound response: "A sheep will always follow its stomach, and only wander off when there's greener grass on the other side."
 
The shepherd sighed, muttering something about stubborn sheep and questionable intelligence.
 
Well, that was...enlightening.
 
With a clear night sky and a bright moon bathing the landscape in silver, Gael proposed a new plan: using the newly-constructed barn as a makeshift lookout tower. The beast seemed nocturnal, and a bird's-eye view might just give us the advantage we needed.
 
Back at the barn, the construction crew had called it a day. Dan, the overseer, was busy inspecting the finished work with a critical eye. Liliana, ever the social butterfly, introduced our ragtag group as adventurers from Keralon, investigating the recent thefts. Dan, to his credit, didn't bat an eyelid and wished us luck in our endeavors.
 
We then launched into our daring request: using the barn's roof as a lookout post. Thankfully, Dan (perhaps impressed by Liliana's charm) agreed, with a stern warning about falling off and not damaging the newly-built structure. He also mentioned having heard about Hayley's return, and that he wanted to have a chat with her sometime soon. After a brief farewell, Dan headed off for some well-deserved rest, leaving us to our stakeout preparations.
 
Zem volunteered to grab some food for the group. Hayley, with a mischievous glint in her eye, suggested he bring Saphira. Zem launched into a playful protest, insisting that he was planning to bring turkey for dinner and not Saphira. Hayley, undeterred, insisted on both. It seemed she wasn't giving up on her matchmaking attempts, no matter how many times I pointed out that Saphira wasn’t my type. Our personalities don’t match very well.
 
Moments later, Zem came rushing back, Saphira trailing behind with a basket in tow. Saphira's entrance was anything but graceful, thanks to Zem's enthusiastic "encouragement." Apparently, scaling the barn roof wasn't her idea of a good time. Hayley, ever the problem solver, lowered a rope, earning a flurry of complaints from the disgruntled dragonborn.
 
The reunion with Saphira and Zem was filled with their usual playful bickering, a blast from the past that took me back to our days chasing down Hector with Seraphine. It was good to see some things never changed.
 
As we settled in for our night watch, Hayley filled Saphira and Zem in on the details of our latest adventure – the missing eggs, the horrifying constructs, and the dark magic at play. They were both appalled by the atrocities committed against the draconic races.
 
Saphira brushed off the notion that the draconic nation couldn't handle it themselves. Hayley, however, pointed out the additional magical resources at the knight’s disposal. This led to a new revelation – Hayley's recent knighthood. Both Saphira and Zem seemed genuinely surprised (though Zem couldn't resist a jab at Hayley's "squishy" nature despite her knighthood).
 
Hayley recounted the events that led to her being knighted, leaving Saphira curious about the lack of a traditional lance and sword. This sparked a mini-rant about sexism in knightly equipment, with Sapphira accusing Alistan of receiving male-preferential treatment (which, considering he had indeed been just given his magical sword, wasn't entirely unfounded).
 
Nightfall draped itself over Ravensfield, casting long shadows and an unsettling silence. We took turns keeping watch, eyes peeled for any sign of our mysterious beast.
 
Just as I started to think my eyelids were permanently attached to each other, Gael nudged me awake. He pointed towards a dark shape flitting between the houses. Sleep instantly fled my bones, replaced by a jolt of adrenaline.
 
Gael inched closer to the figure. Hayley, taking no chances, sent her raven familiar on a reconnaissance mission. Unfortunately, the creature must have had a nose for trouble, because it caught a whiff of Gael's approach.
 
Hayley, with the grace of a frantic crow, yelled a warning. We scrambled off the roof, a flurry of limbs and barely suppressed yelps. Just as we rounded the corner, the scene unfolded before our bewildered eyes.
 
There next to Gael, perched on the roof like some kind of demented lizard-cat hybrid, was the creature we'd been chasing. It resembled a giant, brightly colored lion sculpted from living scales. Honestly, who even designs these things?
 
Liliana wasted no time. A bolt of magic arced through the air, catching the creature on its flank. Gael unleashed a volley of arrows from close range, dodging the beast's swipes with impressive agility. He then, in a display of impressive magic, turned into a wisp of mist and materialized next to us just as the creature swiped at empty air.
 
Hayley patched him up with a quick spell, while we gazed at the empty space where the creature had just been. Apparently, it had vanished into thin air, leaving nothing but an air of mystery.
 
So that was anticlimactic.
 
Left with no other option, we decided to follow the creature's tracks. They led us out of the village, a trail marred by a few specks of blood (thanks, Gael!). The tracks clearly belonged to a fleeing creature, and after a few hours of determined tracking, they reached another disheartening dead end.
 
Just as we were about to call it quits, a new set of tracks caught our eye – faint human footprints nestled between the large paw prints. Intrigued, we followed them, the trail leading us back towards the village.
 
We emerged into a clearing, where a small, abandoned tent stood amidst the tall grass. A burnt-out fire provided evidence of a recent occupant. Gael called out a greeting, assuring whoever it was that we meant no harm.
 
Tentatively, we approached the deserted campsite. Inside, we found a few bloodstained bandages, a bedroll, and some flint and steel. There were no personal belongings, no clues to the identity of the mysterious camper.
 
The rising sun cast long shadows across the clearing. It was clear our visitor had come and gone before dawn.
 
Okay, so hiding in the bushes wasn't exactly glamorous, but we had little other choice if we wanted to get to the bottom of the incidents. We staked ourselves out near the abandoned campsite, waiting for our mysterious visitor to return.
 
Just as boredom threatened to win, a figure emerged from the trees – a half-elf with a wary expression. They spotted us in a flash, but before they could make a run for it (or maybe turn into a giant monster, who knows?), Gael got creative. With a flick of his wrist, vines erupted from the ground, gently (but firmly) slowing our new friend down. Escape plans clearly foiled, they surrendered with a sigh of resignation.
 
We escorted them back to their campsite, Alistan making a valiant effort to juggle the stolen food and a healer's kit the half-elf had somehow managed to acquire. Introductions were made – Reynis, the half-elf, looking as relieved as we were confused.
 
Hayley explained our presence, mentioning both the thefts and the, ahem, "colorful" lion-lizard creature. Reynis, bless his nervous heart, practically flinched at the mention of the beast.
 
"You...you were the ones who I fought with last night?" he stammered, his eyes wide.
 
We assured him of our peaceful intentions (mostly peaceful, anyway), and Reynis, cautiously trusting, decided to spill the beans.
 
It seemed Reynis had quite a story, explaining how each night he changed into the creature. He'd tried everything – chains, locks, the whole shebang – to keep his nighttime transformations in check, but nothing worked.
 
To add insult to injury, he had no clue where he was or what year it was. Apparently, he had been taken from his home in the middle of the night and held deep underground for experiments, which wasn't conducive to a good sense of direction.
 
"Drybank," Reynis mumbled, piecing together fragments of his memory, "that's where I'm from… I was a hunter, living alone. Then… red cloaks with demon-dragon tattoos came and held me deep in the darkness…"
 
Gael's eyebrows shot up. Yep, those were definitely the same cultists we'd tangled with in Keralon. Not exactly a welcome reunion.
 
Reynis confessed to having no control over his nocturnal alter ego, and the guilt over the livestock he'd attacked gnawed at him. Gael assured him it wasn't his fault. He was just a pawn in someone else's twisted game.
 
So, with Reynis in tow (and a renewed determination to stop these creepy cultists), we decided to set up camp and keep an eye on him. Meanwhile, Hayley, with a mischievous glint in her eye, suggested Alistan write a letter to Keralon requesting backup.
 
"After all," she teased, "he's such good friends with Sir Donovan now."
 
Alistan grumbled about detecting a hint of jealousy in her voice. But hey, at least he agreed to write the letter.
 
We emerged from the forest, blinking in the sunlight, and stumbled upon Zem. Our tale of the guilt-ridden half-elf, Reynis, left him wide-eyed. True to form, Zem's solution to Reynis' nocturnal transformations involved a large bottle of "elf-calming whiskey." Hayley, ever the pragmatist (and a sucker for free booze), readily agreed (even though Zem, in classic Zem fashion, quickly backtracked on the "free" part).
 
Hayley decided to whip up a proper sleeping potion for Reynis. This meant a quick dash back to her cabin for supplies – a welcome break from the day's bizarre events.
 
While Hayley procured her potion-making tools, Zem, ever the helpful (and slightly smug) companion, volunteered to deliver the letters to Keralon. He couldn't resist a jab at Alistan, promising to "check his spelling so he can focus on his knightly brooding."
 
Hayley, having refueled on a healthy dose of sleep (and maybe a bit of leftover biscuit), decided to answer Dan's summons. He led her to a table strategically placed near the barn, offering her something to drink. Coffee, it seemed, was the new currency of influence in Ravensfield.
 
Dan, a man of few words but apparently a wealth of information, launched into a passionate explanation of the "Restoration Society." Hayley, ever the champion of a good cause (and a free cup of coffee), listened intently. Apparently, the society aimed to rebuild the war-torn north of Keralon, a region neglected in favor of the flashier (and safer) south and west.
 
Dan, sensing a potential ally, appealed to Hayley's influence. He wanted her to convince the village's merchants to join their cause. Hayley, touched by his dedication, agreed to put in a good word.
 
This "good word," it seemed, came with an additional reward – the Restoration Society's resources would be at Hayley's disposal if she helped them out. Hayley, my shrewd negotiator sister (and a woman who appreciated having options), readily agreed.
 
Meanwhile, back with Reynis, Gael had an unexpected encounter. A dryad, a creature of the forest, materialized from a nearby tree. Apparently, she had witnessed Reynis being taken from a place called Hollowhill, an ancient tomb nestled in a nearby hill (the name is a bit of a given away). When we returned to the camp, Gael filled us in.
 
With a plan cobbled together and a newfound sense of purpose (fueled by coffee and ambition), we settled in for the night. Our goal for the next day: investigate Hollowhill, the ancient tomb where Reynis's transformation seemingly began.
 
While we waited for nightfall to cloak the land in darkness, we brainstormed solutions to keep Reynis in check. My nimble fingers weaved spare materials into a chain necklace, just in case our "scaly friend" decided to take off on another midnight adventure.
 
Liliana, bless her nurturing heart, attempted to soothe Reynis with bedtime stories. The scene was comical – a ferocious (well, potentially ferocious) shapeshifter being lulled to sleep with tales of talking squirrels and enchanted mushrooms.
 
As the moon replaced the sun, casting its silvery light across the scene, the inevitable happened. With a series of bone-chilling cracks and a disturbing shift in skin tone (think midnight black), Reynis transformed.
 
There, before our bewildered eyes, stood the creature from the night before – a fearsome, brightly colored lion sculpted from living scales. Forget sleeping potions, Hayley!
 
Our carefully crafted plan went out the window quicker than a squirrel chased by a particularly motivated hawk. Liliana conjured fey hexes, entangling the beast with dark magic. I focused on slowing the creature down with my own set of spell.
 
Liliana, a whirlwind of determination, charged forward, blade crackling with magic, while Gael fired arrows like a one-man archer brigade. Alistan, bless his brave (and slightly foolhardy) heart, played the role of a glorified matador, dodging swipes and roars with surprising agility.
 
Chaos reigned as the battle unfolded. The creature, enraged by our interference, unleashed a blast of strange, luminous breath, catching Liliana and Alistan full in the face. It managed to knock them both unconscious in one explosion, leaving us in a dangerous situation.
 
Gael, ever the sharpshooter, managed to find a vulnerable spot, a well-placed arrow finding its mark. Hayley and I, wasting no time, focused our healing magic on our fallen comrades. Liliana, regaining consciousness with a groan, unleashed a burst of magic that finally subdued the beast.
 
With a sigh that would make a dragon jealous, the creature reverted back to Reynis, thankfully unconscious. We spent the rest of the night keeping watch, a little worse for wear but relieved that Reynis remained human (at least for now).
 
As the first rays of dawn peeked over the horizon, Reynis stirred awake. To our immense relief, he had remained unchanged the remainder of the night. Maybe the potion was taking its time, or maybe the night's battle had exhausted his transformation energy. Either way, we were grateful for a (relatively) peaceful night.