The four characters make it to the mine, its dusk as they arrive. I ask my oracle if they encounter anything as the descend into the mouth of the mine. I get No, But… Drawing a card from the deck of many things I get Moon. Reading the card reference guide I think there is a ‘place concealed by terrain’. The companions will know this, but I think they would look over the entrance. A perception check may work here? I set a DC of 20. Lini makes the first perception check, she has Perception +11 and rolls 19for a total of 30, a critical success. Perfect — with a 30, Lini doesn’t just spot the hidden place… she sees it with absolute clarity, as if the land itself is whispering the truth to her.
A little while ago I picked up the ‘Deck of Many Things’ which while designed for Dungeons & Dragons, works beautifully with other systems, Pathfinder included.
to set the scene for the next part of the campaign I drew five cards, one for each of the following
The path back into the Echo Woods felt different this time — heavier, as though the trees themselves sensed what the companions carried with them. Branwen walked at the front, bow in hand, every instinct sharpened. Lini padded beside her, small but steady, her connection to the forest humming like a quiet heartbeat. Nyra’s steps were purposeful, her presence a calm centre in the growing unease. Renka kept close to Lark Pindle, the girl’s small hand gripping hers tightly, while Elara Moonshadow drifted at the rear like a shadow that had chosen, reluctantly, to follow.
The hearth is still warm from last night’s fire, and the smell of bread and smoked fish lingers. Tavish leans on the bar, polishing a mug with a rag that’s seen better days. His eyes narrow as Branwen mentions the shrine and the “Abandoned Zealot.”
At the end of my last Pathfinder session, Renka, Branwen, Lini, and Nyra had just left Granna Veil’s cottage when Elric the Merchant, accompanied by four thugs, stopped them in the street. Elric was determined to take Renka’s magical shamisen, resorting to force if necessary.
To read the last installment of my Mapmakers Folly Pathfinder 2e Campaign, click here. To read from the very beginning, click here.
Scene 24, “The Merchant’s Ultimatum: Renka’s Shamisen in Peril”
The sun drops below the horizon, Willowshades street is in silence—no vendors shouting, no carts creaking, only the smells of meals cooking drift through the air. Renka the Kitsune bard brushes her shamisen lightly behind her back, her fingers gently touch the strings, weaving a melody that turns heads. Elric the merchant steps to block her path, flanked by four rough-looking thugs.
Elric theMerchant (smirking): “It’s a fine instrument you’ve got there, fox. Rare wood, delicate strings… worth more than your life, I’d wager. Hand it over, and maybe you walk away with your tail intact.”
He leans in, voice low and sharp, eyes glinting with menace. His thugs spread out, blocking escape routes. The one or two people in the street senses trouble and begin to drift away.
🏹Branwen Hollowmark, Human Ranger (level 3). She trusts her bow, her instincts, and little else. 🧙Lini Thistlekin, Gnome Druid (level 3). She believes the forest speaks in riddles and dreams. Nyra of the Whispering Step, Suli Cleric (level 3). Her silence moves like starlight through shadow, and her grace is the hush before courage. 🎼 Renka, Kitsune Bard(level 3). Her music is a gift and a curse, coveted by many, feared by more.
New to Willowshade? Read from the beginning,click here
Monster Stats
Abandoned Zealot
Creature 6
Abandoned Zealot – CREATURE 6
Alignment: Chaotic Evil Size: Medium Type: Incorporeal Spirit Undead Perception: +14; Dark Vision, Lifesense 60feet, Sense apostate Languages Common, Necril, one regional language Skills: Athletics +14, Boneyard Lore +12, Intimidation +14, Religion +12, Stealth +16 Str -5, Dex +4, Con +0, Int +2, Wis +2, Cha +4 Sence Apostate (detection, divination, divine) An abandoned zealot can sense the presence and direction of false priests within 500 feet of them. Lead or running water blocks this sense.
AC 22 Fort +10, Ref +14, Will +16; +1 status to all saves vs. divine and positive HP: 75, negative healing; Immunities death effects, disease, paralyzed, poison, precision, unconscious; Resistancess all damage 5 (except force, ghost touch, or positive; double resistance against non-magical) Anathematic Aversion (emotion, fear, mental) If they encounter a priest of their former faith, an abandoned zealot must attempt a Will save against the highest spell DC among those priests, or the highest Will DC if none of them can cast spells. The zealot attempts this saving throw only once per minute, even if more priests arrive later. Critical Success The abandoned zealot spends their reaction to Stride directly toward a priest of their former faith. For 1 minute, the abandoned zealot’s hand of despair deals one additional damage die against priests of the creature’s former faith. Success The abandoned zealot spends their reaction to Stride directly toward a priest of their former faith. Failure The abandoned zealot becomes frightened 1 and gains the fleeing condition until the end of their next turn. Critical Failure As failure, but frightened 2. Elegy of the Faithless [reaction](abjuration, divine, mental) Trigger A divine spell is cast within 30 feet of the abandoned zealot; Effect The abandoned zealot howls an elegy of regret, forcing the spellcaster to attempt a DC 22 Will save, or DC 24 if the caster is a member of the zealot’s former faith. On a failure, the elegy disrupts the spell. Speed fly 40 feet Melee [one-action] Hand of Dispare +16 (finesse, magical), Damage 2d10+4 negative plus rend faith Divine Innate Spells DC 24; 6th zealous conviction (self only); 4th crisis of faith Rend Faith When hit by an abandoned zealot’s hand of despair, a creature capable of divine spellcasting or with divinely granted abilities must succeed at a DC 24 Will save or be unable to use those spells or abilities until the end of its next turn.
Skeleton Guard
Creature -1
skeleton Guard – CREATURE -1
Alignment: Chaotic Evil Size: Medium Type: Mindless Skeleton Undead Perception: +2, Dark Vision Languages Orc Skills: Acrobatics +6, Athletics +3 Str +2, Dex +4, Con +0, Int –5, Wis +0, Cha +0 Items Spear, Shortbow
New to Willowshade? Read from the beginning,click here
Scene 14:A Misty Morning in Willowshade
Does anything happen in willowshade this morning? (Yes, fortune)
Random Verbs, Scold, Muddle, flower
I read that as someone is scolding someone over a mix up with some flowers
The mist clung to the cobbles like a secret not yet told. Willowshade, still drowsy from yesterday’s bustle, now wore silence like a shawl. The market stalls stood empty, their canvas flaps fluttering like tired sighs. Elric the merchant had vanished with the dawn, his caravans creaking away toward distant trade routes, leaving behind only the scent of cinnamon and old stories.
Battle Cry[one-action] (auditory, concentrate, emotion, mental) Bellowing mightily, the warchief gives themself and all orc allies within 60 feet a +1 status bonus to attack and damage rolls until the start of the orc warchief’s next turn.
Owlbear
Creature 4
Owlbear – CREATURE 4
Alignment: Neutral Size: Large Type: Animal Perception: +13, Low Light Vision, Scent (Imprecise) 30 feet Skills: Acrobatics +7, Athletics +14, Intimidation +10 Str +6, Dex +1, Con +5, Int –4, Wis +3, Cha +0
AC 21; Fort +13, Ref +7, Will +11 HP: 70 Speed 25 feet Melee [one-action] talon +14 (agile), Damage 1d10+6 piercing plus Grab Melee [one-action] beak +14, Damage 1d12+6 piercing
Bloodcurdling Screech [one-action] (auditory, emotion, fear, mental) The owlbear unleashes a loud screech that terrifies its prey. Each creature in an 80-foot emanation must attempt a DC 20 Will save. Regardless of the result, creatures are temporarily immune for 1 minute. Critical Success The creature is unaffected. Success The creature is frightened 1. Failure The creature is frightened 2. Critical Failure The creature is fleeing for 1 round and frightened 3. Gnaw [one-action] Requirements The owlbear has a creature grabbed with its talons.Effect The owlbear attempts to disembowel the creature with a beak Strike. If the Strike hits, the target must attempt a DC 22 Will save. Critical Success The target is unaffected. Success The creature is sickened 1. Failure The target is sickened 1 and slowed 1 as long as it remains sickened.
Screeching Advance [two-actions] (auditory, emotion, fear, mental) The owlbear makes a Bloodcurdling Screech and Strides twice. All creatures within 80 feet of the owlbear at any point during this movement are subjected to the effects of Bloodcurdling Screech.
Skythe Tree
Creature 6
Scythe Tree – CREATURE 6
Alignment: Chaotic Evil Size: Huge Type: Plant Perception: +14, Low Light Vision, Lifesence 30 feet Languages: Aklo, Arboreal, Sylvan Skills: Athletics +15, Stealth +12 (+14 in forests) Str +7, Dex +2, Con +4, Int 0, Wis +2, Cha +0
Dead Tree [one-action] (concentrate) Until the scythe tree acts, it appears to be a dead tree. It has an automatic result of 35 on Deception checks and DCs to pass as a dead tree. Woodland Ambush [one-action] Requirements The scythe tree is using Dead Tree in forested terrain, and a creature that hasn’t detected it is within 30 feet;Effect The scythe tree Strides up to 25 feet toward the triggering creature. Once the creature is in reach, the scythe tree makes a scythe branch Strike against it. The creature is flat-footed against this Strike
Twigjack
Creature 3
Twigjack – CREATURE 3
Alignment: Chaotic Evil Size: Tiny Type: Fay, Plant Perception: +9, Dark Vision Languages: Common, Sylvan Skills: Acrobatics +11, Athletics +9, Nature +7, Stealth +11 Str +2, Dex +4, Con +2, Int 0, Wis +2, Cha +1
AC 19; Fort +9, Ref +11, Will +7 HP: 50 Weakness fire 5 Speed 25 feet Melee [one-action] claw +11 (agile, finesse), Damage 1d10+4 slashing Ranged [one-action] splinter +11 (deadly 1d6, range increment 30 feet), Damage 1d6+4 piercing
Bramble Jump [three-actions] (conjuration, plant, primal, teleportation) Requirements The Twigjack is in the undergrowth Effect The twigjack scrambles into the undergrowth and instantly teleports to a square of undergrowth within 60 feet. This movement doesn’t trigger reactions. Splinter Spray [two-action] The Twigjack sprays a barrage of splinters and brambles from its body in a 15-foot cone, dealing 4d6 piercing damage (DC 20 basic Reflex save). It can’t use Splinter Spray again for 1d4 rounds.
Creature Name: Nereila, the Pondshade Level: 4 Traits: Fey, Aquatic, Illusion, Bound Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Size: Medium Perception: +11 (darkvision) Languages: Sylvan, Aquan Skills: Stealth +10, Nature +9, Deception +10, Performance +8 Str +0, Dex +3, Con +1, Int +2, Wis +2, Cha +4
💧 Lore & Flavor
Nereila is a water-bound fey spirit born from moonlight and forgotten wishes. She haunts the mill pond, weaving illusions from ripples and reeds. Locals whisper that she once loved a mortal miller, and her presence lingers where his laughter once echoed. She cannot leave the pond, but her illusions reach beyond its banks, luring wanderers into dreams or dread.
🧚 Abilities
Bound to the Pond: Nereila cannot move more than 60 feet from the mill pond’s center. If forcibly removed, she vanishes and reappears at the pond at dawn.
Waterform (1 Action): Nereila can merge with the pond, becoming invisible and intangible for 1 minute. She can still cast illusion spells while in this form.
Illusory Reflection (2 Actions): Nereila creates a shimmering double of herself or another creature within 30 feet. This functions as Illusory Disguise or Mirror Image, depending on intent.
Lure of the Deep (3 Actions): Once per day, Nereila sings a haunting melody. All creatures within 60 feet must succeed at a DC 19 Will save or be fascinated for 1 round and compelled to approach the pond.
The companions leave the market behind, the weight of Granna Vell’s trinkets tucked into cloak folds and belt pouches. The path to the old mill winds past the edge of Willowshade, where the trees lean in close and the stream runs quieter than it should.
Does anything happen on the way to the mill? (Yes, Great Misfortune))
What happens? (Deceive, Last, Vanish)
I read that as the last buildings of Willowshade vanish from the parties sight, a water element or sprite deceives them.
Droogami pads ahead, ears twitching. Lini watches her companion with a furrowed brow—something in the air feels off. The birdsong is sparse, and the breeze carries the scent of damp grain and old stone.
As they round a bend, Willowshade disappears from view and the mill comes into view: its wheel sluggish, half-submerged in moss-choked water. The building itself leans slightly, as if weary of standing. A raven watches from the roof beam, silent.
Branwen gestures for caution. “Let’s not assume we’re alone.”
Renka’s fingers brush the fox figurine at her belt. For a moment, she feels warmth—not from the wood, but from something older, deeper. A memory not hers. She blinks, and the feeling fades.
Lini kneels by the stream, holding the river stone up to the light. It hums faintly, a vibration felt more than heard. “There’s magic here,” she murmurs. “But it’s tangled.”
The mill pond has a Pondshade Nereila bound to it. The Fay creature casts an illusion of the miller, attempting to lure the party away from the mill towards the pond (DC19)
Suddenly, a figure appears on the rickety dock—a man in a faded cap and muddy boots, waving urgently.
“Over here!” he calls, his voice echoing strangely across the water. “Thank the stars you’ve come. There’s trouble in the mill—something’s fouled the waterwheel, and I can’t fix it alone!”
Branwen speaks to the illusion, she makes a will saving roll, she rolls 16 + 5 = 21, just higher than the Pondshades DC19. She sees through the illusion.
Branwen narrows her eyes. The man’s features are indistinct, as if seen through rippling water. His reflection in the pond lags behind his movements, and when he steps, his boots make no sound on the old wood.
Renke hesitates. “Are you the miller? We were sent to help.”
The figure nods, beckoning them closer. “Aye, that’s me. But hurry—the mill’s in danger! There’s something in the water, something angry. I need you to come inside, quickly!”
Lini glances at her companions, unease prickling her skin. The mist thickens, swirling around their ankles. For a moment, the miller’s eyes flash an unnatural shade of blue-green, like the heart of the pond.
Branwen grips her sword. “If you’re truly the miller, tell us—what’s your dog’s name?”
The figure falters, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. The mist behind him churns, and his form wavers, edges blurring into droplets that fall silently into the pond.
A low, musical laugh echoes from the water. The illusion dissolves, leaving only the swirling mist and the faint outline of something watching from beneath the surface.
The illusion of the miller shudders, water droplets trailing from his form as Branwen’s gaze pierces the glamour. The mist thickens, swirling protectively around the dock and pond. The false miller’s eyes flash with anger and surprise, then melt away, revealing the true shape of the Nereila: a figure of shimmering water and tangled riverweed, both beautiful and unsettling.
A voice, musical and echoing, ripples across the pond:
“So, you see me, clever mortal. Few have the will to pierce my veil.”
The Nereila’s expression shifts from playful mischief to cold irritation. The water around the dock churns, sending ripples toward the shore.
“You spoil my fun, but the game is not yet over. The mill is mine to haunt, and your meddling will cost you dearly.”
She glides closer, her form shifting between water and mist, eyes glinting with ancient cunning.
“Tell your friends: Willowshade’s secrets are best left undisturbed. Leave, or face the wrath of the river.”
The Nereila’s voice is both warning and challenge, her disappointment at being discovered fuelling her next act of mischief or aggression.
Lini speaks to the Fey holding the river stone so the creature can see it, she makes a diplomacy check, she rolls 16 + 5 = 21 against a DC of 15. She calms the creatures anger.
Lini steps forward, holding the river stone aloft. The Nereid, still swirling in her true form above the water, pauses. Her eyes narrow, curiosity flickering across her face.
Lini speaks softly and with great respect, “We mean you no harm. This stone was given to Willowshade by river spirits—by your kin, perhaps. Why poison the water that once blessed the mill and the village?”
The river stone glimmers, casting ripples of gentle light across the pond. The Nereila’s demeanour shifts; her anger cools, replaced by wary interest, her expression is more wounded than wrathful.
Her voice, musical and mournful, ripples across the water:
“You see through my veil, mortal. But do not mistake me for your enemy. I am not the one who poisons this water. The rot, the sickness—it is the work of the miller and his wife. Their greed, their carelessness, it fouls my home and brings misery to all who drink from my pond.”
She glides closer, the water swirling protectively around her.
“I have tried to drive them away, to frighten them from this place. The mill was built without respect for the old ways, and now the land suffers. I want them gone—gone from my pond, gone from Willowshade. Only then will the water run clear again.”
Her gaze lingers on Lini’s, pleading and fierce.
“You seek the truth? Look not to the fey for blame, but to those who have forgotten the pact between land and water. Help me, and I will help you. But if you side with the poisoners, you will find no mercy here.”
Lini steps forward, her voice gentle but firm, “We see the harm that’s been done, spirit of the waters. The miller doesn’t understand the pain he’s causing—to you, to the pond, to the village. Let us speak with him. Let us help him change, before your anger brings ruin to all.”
The Nereila,her form shimmering, narrows her eyes, “Words are easy, mortal. Promises flow like water, but few hold their shape. Why should I trust you, when the miller’s greed has poisoned my home?”
Lini meets the Nereila’s gaze, “Because we’re not blind to your suffering. We came to help, not to harm. Give us a chance to make him listen. If he refuses, you’ll have your justice—but let us try peace first.”
the Nereila’svoice softens, a hint of curiosity in her tone, “Very well, little one. Speak to your miller. But know this: the river remembers, and so do I. Fail, and the waters will rise.”
Scene 8. The Millers defense.
Branwen knocks on the door. Does anyone answer? No…
Branwen tries to open the door, does it open? Yes…
The companions take the short walk from the pond to the door. Branwen raps heavily on the door with the pommel of her short sword. With no answer, Branwen tries the door, it begins to open before her and she quietly and slowly pushes it open.,
Branwen is the first to step inside, Renka follows, Lini orders Droogami it wait by the door. The mill smells of damp grain and old wood. Dust motes drift in the filtered light from a cracked window. The waterwheel creaks faintly outside, echoing like a heartbeat.The mill smells of damp grain and old wood. Dust motes drift in the filtered light from a cracked window. The waterwheel creaks faintly outside, echoing like a heartbeat.
The miller sits hunched on a stool, hands limp, eyes hollow. His clothes are stained with flour and pond scum. A cracked mug rests at his feet, untouched. Renka approaches the man, while Branwen wanders around the using the light of a flickering lantern to see what she can find, Lini walks over to the mill stone.
Renka makes a Diplomacy check against the Millers Will. She rolls 15 +5 =20, while the miller rolls 6+ 1 = 7 for his will DC. A Great Success. The miller goes from Indifferent to Helpful
Renka then performs a ‘Sense Motive’ action. Her perception is 5, I give the miller a Deception of 2. Renka rolls 15 on d20, the miller rolls 11, so 20 v. 16, renka succeeds. She knows the miller is behaving normally
Branwen makes a perception check to see if she finds anything out of the ordinary. I make the DC 10, she rolls 7, failure.
Lini spends two actions to cast a detect magic cantrip. Does she detect any magic? Yes, strong aura coming from the mill stone
The millers flinches, his eyes glance towards the mill stone, “It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t poison the tarts. I ate them. I liked them. It’s the grain — it’s wrong. It’s sick. The pond’s sick too. She just wanted to help.”
Renka looks at the Miller, and says in a gentile yet firm way, “The pond’s restless, and Nereila’s illusions grow sharper. She believes you’re poisoning her waters. Why, miller? Why upset the spirit who’s watched over this place?”
The miller replies wearily, “Poisoning? Me? No. No, I’d never harm the pond. It’s her — she’s changed. She watches me like I’m a stranger.”
Renka’s tone softens, “she says the pond is sick, That something’s wrong. The fig tarts, the grain…”
The Millers voice begins to crack, “It wasn’t the tarts. My wife baked them with care. It’s the grain — it’s wrong before it even reaches the mill. The yield’s half what it was. The sacks rot from the inside. Something’s spoiling it.”
Renka curiosity picks up, “Spoiling it how? Mold? Magic?”
The Miller shakes his head, “Not mold. Not anything I’ve seen. The kernels twist. They hum at night. And the stone… the stone feels colder than it should.”
Renka voice falls to a whisper, “You think something else is poisoning the land?”
The Miller nods, eyes haunted, “Yes. Something old. Something buried. I hear it in the wheel’s creak. I see it in the pond’s stillness. I think… I think Nereila’s afraid too.”
The mill’s grinding chamber is dim, the great stone wheel looming like a sleeping beast. As Lini steps closer, her fingers trace a sigil in the air — Detect Magic flares softly in her eyes.
She turns to the miller, voice gentle but curious. “This stone — it’s not just stone anymore. Have you seen anything strange when you grind the grain?”
Miller rubs his hands nervously, “Aye. Sometimes… sometimes the wheel sparks. Not fire — colours. Like oil on water. And the grain, it sings. Low, like a hum in the teeth.”
He glances toward the stone, then back at Lini, “I thought it was just the strain. Or the pond’s tricks. But the sacks rot faster now. The flour clumps. Even the fig tarts came out bitter.
Lini shakes her head, “It’s not the pond. It’s the stone. Something’s bound to it — something that doesn’t want to be ground.”
Scene 9. Nyra Appears.
Droogami lets out a low, rumbling growl — not hostile, but alert. The snow leopard’s ears flick toward the open mill door, nose twitching.
Lini turns, her spell still humming faintly in her fingertips, “and how long have you been there…”
She is cloaked in layered robes of ash-grey and wind-blown blue, her hair braided with silver threads and river stones. Her eyes shimmer like morning frost on still water. A faint breeze stirs the dust around her feet, though the air outside is still.
Nyra speaks softly, “The stone sings of sorrow. And the pond… it weeps in silence. I was called.”
She steps inside, her presence somehow both grounding and otherworldly.
The Miller is startled, “Who—? Are you… are you one of them?”
Nyra continues her gentile speach, “No. But I listen, as they do. And I’ve come to help — if you’ll let me.”
She kneels beside the millstone, placing one hand upon it. Her eyes close. A ripple of pale light spreads across the stone’s surface — and for a moment, the grinding wheel groans like something exhaling in pain.
Nyra turns away from the mill stone, “I have not the power to remove the curse, you will need the help of a power greater than mine,”
Miller answers softly, “If you truly want to help… there’s one who might know more. Elara Moonshadow. She lives in Willowshade. A fetchling mage. People say she’s touched by shadow — but she’s clever. Too clever.”
He looks at Branwen, then Droogami, then the others.“I wouldn’t go myself. She doesn’t like me. But you — you’ve seen the pond. You’ve spoken to Nereila. Maybe she’ll listen.”
Nyra nods, already sensing the arc ahead.
Renka hums a thoughtful tune, composing a verse about “Moonshadow and Millstone.”
Lini scribbles notes in her journal: “Fetchling mage. Willowshade. Curse resonance?”
Branwen glances toward the pond, where Nereila’s silhouette flickers once, then vanishes.
Droogami growls softly — not in warning, but in anticipation.
The mill turned once more, but the shadow beneath it had not yet lifted. And so the companions turned toward Willowshade — where moonlight met secrets, and Elara waited.
Does anything unusual happen in the Singing Creek? (Yes, Great Fortune))
What happens? (Join, Suprise, Joy)
I read that as Lini has a animal companion which makes a sudden return to her.
The room at the Singing Creek Tavern was meant for two, and it had made its opinion known all night. Branwen had claimed the floor with stoic grace, one eye open beneath the blanket, while Renka and Lini shared the narrow bed in a tangle of tails and mossy cloaks.
New to Willowshade and my Pathfinder 2e solo adventures, then please read session 0,click here to do so.
Scene Three: The Walk to Willowshade.
Does anything happen on the path to Willowshade? (Yes, Great Fortune)
What happens? (Supply, join, Scold)
I read that as they meet a merchant taking goods to Willowshade for tomorrows market.
The path to Willowshade shimmered with lantern light, each flame swaying gently in its glass cradle like fireflies caught mid-dream. Renka’s tails flicked with impatience as she adjusted the strap of her Shamisen case, her ears twitching at every rustle in the underbrush. Lini, ever attuned to the whispers of the night, hummed a tune to the rhythm of her footsteps, while Branwin kept a steady pace, eyes scanning the treeline for movement—or mischief.
