D20 SYSTEM✦ Normal

The Sedated Howl: Tethers of Blackrock Keep

# Wilderness# Beast# Dark Fantasy# Investigation

You are drawn to the remote, perpetually overcast Blackrock Keep, a frontier bastion where the ruling 'Iron Guard' garrison tames and war-rides fearsome wargs. For months, reports have filtered out: wargs breaking their magically-reinforced tethers, going berserk on handlers, or simply vanishing into the screaming wilds. The official line blames a potent 'plague of madness' in the beasts. But a desperate, anonymous groom within the Keep's stables has smuggled a plea for help, claiming the truth is far worse—that the wargs are being deliberately poisoned with a cheap, hallucinogenic chaff blended into their feed by elements within the Keep itself. The Iron Guard's entire military doctrine, their regional supremacy, and their very survival hinge on the wargs. To investigate is to challenge a desperate army that cannot afford to be seen as weak or wrong. The truth, buried under layers of fear and necessity, is a powder keg waiting for a spark.

Chronicle Prelude

The campaign begins at the muddy, makeshift 'Wanderer's Rest' camp a league outside the looming, scarred walls of Blackrock Keep. Refugees, deserters, and wary merchants huddle around sputtering fires. The air smells of wet stone, beast musk, and paranoia. The Keep's main gate is a heavily guarded checkpoint, and the surrounding wilderness—the 'Howling Demesne'—is a treacherous mix of rocky badlands and dense, unnaturally silent forest, home to what remains of the untamed wargs.

Environmental Traits

The regional crisis is the systemic collapse of the Iron Guard's warg-rider program, threatening to destabilize the entire province. The 'victory condition' is uncovering the source of the warg madness and deciding the fate of Blackrock Keep: whether to expose its sins and risk its annihilation, or help cover them up to maintain a fragile, monstrous status quo.

Legendary Archetypes

Rayan

HP:45

STR:16

WIS: 12

CHA:11

Key Factions & Autonomous Nodes (8)

Commander Varek
A tall, gaunt man in immaculate, scarred plate armor. His face is a map of old battle scars, and his eyes are cold, calculating pits. He wears the Iron Guard's signet ring prominently. His posture is rigid, exuding an aura of absolute, uncompromising authority.
Head Groom Maren
A sturdy, middle-aged woman with weather-beaten skin and strong, calloused hands. Her hair is tied back practically, and she wears a faded leather apron. Her eyes hold a deep, weary sadness but are fiercely determined. She smells of straw, beast musk, and herbs.
Ser Geffen
A young, nervous-looking man in a junior officer's uniform that seems too big for him. His eyes dart around constantly, and he fidgets with the hem of his tunic. He looks exhausted and guilt-ridden.
Korvus
A swarthy, rat-faced man with a perpetual, greasy smile. He operates from a shadowed corner of the refugee camp, his stall draped in tarps and displaying an eclectic mix of 'found' goods: looted trinkets, caged vermin, and dubious-looking bottles.
Feral Warg Alpha
A massive, scarred warg with matted, dark fur and eyes that burn with a feral, intelligent light. One ear is torn, and its muzzle is flecked with old foam. It moves with a predatory grace, its pack of lesser wargs circling it like satellites. The air around it smells of musk and ozone.
The Mycelium Voice
A shifting, hallucinatory presence that manifests as swirling spores in the air, forming briefly into ghostly, vaguely humanoid shapes or the impression of a vast, silent scream. The air hums with a low, psychic vibration that presses against the mind. It is not a single creature, but the collective, wounded consciousness of the fungal network.
Groom Kael (Deceased)
The body of a young man in groom's leathers, slumped against the back wall of a stable stall. His face is contorted in a final rictus of terror. Thick, white fungal mycelium sprouts from his mouth, ears, and eye sockets, and a fine, shimmering dust covers his torso. His personal journal is tucked inside his tunic.
Quartermaster Grell
A portly, sweating man in a fine but stained silk doublet, far too luxurious for his post. His fingers are heavy with rings, and he nervously mops his brow with a lace handkerchief. He smells of strong perfume and fear.

Chronicle Prelude

Environmental Traits

Legendary Archetypes

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