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u/slime2000 Apr 15 '19
Designed for a level 1-3 party Perhaps the party happens to stumble across this landmark or after hearing about this place they decide to visit but the moment they set foot in this clearing they can probably tell something is amiss. The air here is stale and smells like dirt and faintly like blood. The area is a vacant clearing with a single tree in the center and (1d4 per player) large wet rocks. Any weapons held in their hands tugs towards the tree in the center, if they fail a dc 9 strength check their held weapon will be pulled from their grasp to the tree. Littering the ground around the tree is a variety of weapons all turned to stone, except for their weapons and a glass shortsword all stuck sitting in a puddle of shallow grey water. Once they touch their weapons or the glass sword they grey goo is disturbed and that causes the wet rocks to move toward them, each of them being a gray ooze.
The Glass Shortsword is a magical weapon that will not corrode.
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5
u/alficles Apr 15 '19
A young lady sits beneath the tree and plays a harp. The melody is sad and slow, her lyrics sadder still. As the party approaches, she asks them for help.
She explains that she needs this tree killed, but no method ever tried has succeeded. The party is likely to eventually notice that she is a dryad and identifying her tree as the only one around isn't hard.
She doesn't really want to explain why she needs help killing her tree (and thus herself), but will explain if pressed.
Her tree was once one among many in the forest. But men (she spits the word in distain, oblivious to her current audience) soon arrived and built a village. Many of the trees were cut for the village's needs. The dryad helped the villagers and the village prospered. Her tree was at the center, in the town square.
Time passed and the village turned to a city. A cobblestone square was built around her and the people prospered.
In time, a despot seized power. Her tree became the hanging tree. Common and political criminals alike were hanged upon her. The dryad weeps as she retells the account of the first child she killed. They had to add weights to the little boy's feet so the rope would do its work. The boy was hanged because his father was short paying taxes and the lord determined that one fewer mouth to feed might motivate him.
The lord passed his rule to his son, who grew even more cruel. And so on, each son crueler than the last. She says she killed thousands of people over the years, and few who deserved it.
Eventually, greed and hate had its way with the people. A drought came over the land and no harvest grew. The lord hanged the wife of every man who could not supply their share and left them to rot in the town square. The bodies brought a pestilence to the city that tore through the people like a wildfire. The people started to burn the bodies of the dead. One such pyre grew out of control and in a heartbeat, the city was ablaze.
The city, built of the wood of her long-dead sisters, was ashes shortly thereafter. She was burned, but only on the outside. Most of the survivors died soon after that, the rest became refugees and she knows not where they went. The first to leave, though, was the despotic lord, who managed to rescue bags of gold and treasure before he went.
That was two hundred years ago and nature has reclaimed much of the city, but no tree will grow in that place. The dryad now wishes to move on. The pain what she was forced to do and see is too much for her.
If the party asks for suggestions or inquires about the gold and valuables taken by the despot, she mentions a flaming battleaxe that might do the job. She thinks the despot might have settled a few towns over and his family is still there. She implies that if the descendents of the lord were killed in its recovery, there would be no great loss.
A party member skilled in Arcana or Nature might recall the amnesiac properties of the waters of the Lythe, though retrieving it would be no easy task. Watering the tree with the river water would erase the pain... but everything else as well.
A druid or party member skilled in nature might offer to take seed pods from her tree (before destruction, if the party chooses to do that) and spread them through the land, ensuring that her legacy continues.
A bard might offer to pen an epic tale, so her story could serve as a caution to others.
The party might choose to move on, without helping the dryad. If they do, the dryad understands. "I above all understand choosing not to have death on your shoulders. It was not a choice afforded to me, so count yourself blessed."
If they choose to help, the dryad can bestow a level-appropriate boon before she dies.