Phealafarian Frontiers: 12: Silence in Timberwood
After the festival, when everyone had returned to The Tavern With No Name, Thomas pulled Kira aside, a question weighing on his mind. He asked her how his name had ended up on the job sheet when he first arrived. Kira, looking equally puzzled, told him she had no idea. The paperwork had only listed the other five members of the party—she had personally overseen it and sealed it. As far as she knew, the next person to open it was the clerk who reviewed it after the job was done, at which point Thomas’ name was inexplicably included.
Thomas mused whether it could be the work of a god or some higher being, given the strange circumstances surrounding his presence in this time. He recalled the moment during the destruction of Isenvale when the portal to the future had opened before him—he had felt something watching over him then. Kira, however, shrugged it off. “More likely someone slipped in and changed it,” she said. “Gods are above my pay grade.”
The next morning, Tobias was up early, gathering supplies for the party:
Cooking utensils for Guardian
Woodcarver’s tools for Thomas
Leatherworking tools for Tosk
Cartographer’s tools for Erisa
A grappling hook for Eldrin
Tosk immediately swapped his leatherworking tools for smithing tools, clearly having different priorities. The group took some time to organize their new equipment before heading downstairs, where they discussed their upcoming journey over breakfast. They asked Sweets about Timberwood. He told them that while it was a small village, it was the main supplier of wood for the city.
Guardian questioned why the job posting had been on the board for so long—at least two weeks—if it was such a simple task. Sweets admitted he didn’t know but mentioned that the request had actually been removed from the board once, only to reappear a few days later.
“Because they all died horribly?” Guardian quipped.
Sweets shrugged. “Probably because they decided not to take the job.”
With that, the party packed up and left, beginning the two-day journey to Timberwood. The first day passed uneventfully, with the party making good progress along the road. They camped under the stars that night, discussing past adventures and the mysteries ahead.
A day and a half into their travels, they encountered a group heading the opposite direction—three humans, a kobold, and a bugbear, all in high spirits and chatting about the beautiful weather. The party greeted them, only for the group to casually mention that there was no point in heading to Timberwood; they had already “cleared it out.” Clearly mistaking the party for scavengers, they dismissed the town as abandoned.
Suspicious, the party pressed them for details, accusing them of looting and possibly even murder. The supposed scavengers pushed back, insisting there was no one left in the village—no people, no bodies, just empty buildings.
“It ain’t stealing if there’s no one to steal from,” one of them scoffed.
Tobias, unwilling to let it slide, drew his axe and demanded they surrender their spoils. The bandits responded in kind, weapons drawn, and the road became a battlefield. Tosk squared off against the bugbear, while the rest of the party clashed with the others. Erisa took down the kobold with a deadly shot, sending the rest into a frenzy. The battle was hard-fought, with the bandits proving to be seasoned fighters, but eventually, their leader was knocked unconscious.
Tobias turned his attention to the bugbear, weighing his options. He could see the fight had taken a toll on both sides, and though the bandits had been willing to kill, he preferred not to spill more blood than necessary. Pragmatism won out over vengeance—he offered 20 gold and a chance to revive the kobold, proposing that they take the deal and leave everything else behind, including their stolen goods. The bugbear hesitated but ultimately agreed, seeing no better alternative. Offering 20 gold and a chance to revive the kobold, he brokered a deal: they would take the money, revive their friend, and leave everything else behind—including their horse, cart, and stolen goods. The bugbear agreed, and the remaining bandits left with their wounded, empty-handed but alive. The party rummaged through what remained, finding food, spare weapons, and a few supplies that would help on their journey.
Continuing onward, the party reached Timberwood after nightfall. The air was unnervingly still, the usual nocturnal sounds of insects and rustling leaves absent. A faint, musty scent of decay lingered, mixing with the crisp night air. As they stepped into the village, the sound of their own footsteps on the dirt road felt unnaturally loud, echoing in the emptiness. No lights flickered in the windows, no distant voices murmured—only silence greeted them, stretching out into the oppressive darkness. The village was eerily silent—no lights in the windows, no voices in the streets. As they wandered through, searching for signs of life, Guardian checked a market stand. The milk had soured, and the fruits and vegetables had already begun to rot. The air smelled stale, untouched for too long.
Something was very wrong here.
Tosk turned to the local rats, trying to glean any information from the scavengers. Tobias reached out with his magical senses, hoping for a sign of life. Both searches came up empty. The party split up briefly, checking different buildings for any signs of struggle or distress, but every home they entered was abandoned, belongings left behind as if people had simply vanished.
The party eventually made their way to the town hall. Its entrance was partially obscured by a tree, forcing them to squeeze past to get inside. Within, they found a long, empty hall. At the far end, a desk stood in front of yet another tree, its roots entwined with the floorboards.
Searching the desk, Tosk found a note and handed it to Tobias:
“The first disappearance was in the woods—one of Harvin’s men never returned from his shift. Then two more went missing near the town outskirts. No tracks, no blood, nothing. I’ve advised against anyone going out alone, but panic is setting in. Just this morning, a group of adventurers from New Albion arrived to investigate. I hope they fare better than we have. Gods help us all.”
A cold realization settled over the group. Looking around again with fresh eyes, they saw it—the unnatural placement of trees throughout the village, sprouting in places no tree should grow. Some had burst through the floors of homes, others stood where pathways should be, as if the village itself was being swallowed by the forest.
Deciding not to risk spending the night in Timberwood, they set up camp a mile up the road. As they gathered around their fire, a quiet discussion arose about the village’s eerie state. “If something took the people, we don’t want to be here when it comes back,” Tobias muttered. Erisa nodded, glancing back in the direction of the abandoned streets. “And those trees… they’re growing in places they shouldn’t be. It’s like the town is being reclaimed by something.” Guardian shuddered. “Or consumed.”
A moment of silence passed between them before Thomas spoke. “What if they are the trees?” His words sent a chill through the group. They exchanged uneasy glances, the idea gnawing at their minds.
“It makes sense,” Erisa said hesitantly. “No bodies, no signs of struggle—just trees in places they shouldn’t be. If something transformed the villagers, staying there might put us at risk too.”
They agreed that it was best to keep their distance, hoping that avoiding the village limits would keep them safe from whatever fate had befallen Timberwood.
The next morning, the sun shone brightly as they awoke. Thomas, Erisa, and Eldrin felt an unusual warmth on their skin, a sensation of deep comfort and well-being.
Then came the creeping worry—had they fallen victim to the curse after all?
