1. Locations

Khresht Rhyyl, the Forest of Flesh

Natural Feature

Droaam is home to many fearsome creatures. Medusas match wits with harpies and hags. Ogres, minotaurs, and trolls compete in tests of might. Even these monsters avoid the lands around Blackroot. The gnolls call it Khresht Rhyyl, “the Forest of Flesh”—and this is more than a colorful figure of speech. Long ago Mordain released creatures called skinweavers (see below) into the woods. These beasts weave webs, much as spiders do, but instead of producing silk, skinweavers craft their nests using the recycled flesh of their victims, stretching entrails, strands of muscle, and flayed skin between trunk and bough. Many of these are long abandoned, like cobwebs drifting in the wind. Nonetheless, gnawed bones and glistening strands of flesh are a common sight in the forest, and they serve as a clear warning to turn back.

The woods of Khresht Rhyyl are unusually dense and humid for Droaam, which is one more sign of the power Mordain holds over this region. The canopy above remains dense throughout the year, and even at high noon only dim light makes its way to the forest floor. Anyone trained in Dungeoneering can recognize certain plants that are found underground only; this includes phosphorescent fungi that create paths of light snaking through the darkness. Other plants are unknown beyond the forest. These include potent hallucinogens; bloodvines, which produce human blood in place of sap; banshee’s boughs, trees that howl in agony when disturbed in any way; and many others. The ghoul’s rose produces the stench of rotting flesh to attract insects, and the beautiful stormflower deals lightning damage to anything that touches it (1 lightning damage for touching a flower, up to 6 lightning damage per round for standing in a patch of stormflowers).

The creatures of the region are as diverse and dangerous as the plant life. Some are aberrations, though most are bestial creatures unique to the area as opposed to being servants of Xoriat or Khyber. The skinweavers are one example of Mordain’s ingenuity, but tales speak of skinless wolves, insane elementals, and frenzied beasts formed from the combination of two or more of the creatures found elsewhere in Droaam. Adventurers might find a troll with the voice and wings of a harpy, or a hydra with a medusa’s head sprouting from each of its six necks. Rot scarabs, bloodweb spiders, and stranger insects chitter in the darkness. Vine horrors, oozes of colors never seen in the world beyond, and aberrant dryads linger just off the phosphorescent paths. The laws of nature have been shattered here. Characters familiar with Nature or Dungeoneering may claim that it’s impossible for so many deadly creatures to thrive in such close proximity to one another, and this again is the work of Mordain. Many of these monsters have been engineered to survive with minimal sustenance, and predatory instincts and reproductive systems have likewise been altered; some beasts reproduce at a remarkable rate needed to maintain their numbers, and others are sterile and could be exterminated by travelers. Because of this, even the most innocent creatures can pose a deadly threat. The tryyl, a rodent found in the forest, is a little creature possessing the adorable traits of rabbit and hamster. But a tryyl also has poisonous flesh, a venomous bite, and an uncanny reproduction rate held in check by its diet within the forest. Should a few of these creatures be brought to Breland or Aundair, they could quickly spread across the land and become an environmental menace. Both the Gnoll Brotherhood and the Wardens of the Wood have dealt with tryyl before, and they react violently if they discover adventurers smuggling these or any other creatures from Khresht Rhyyl.

Although the monsters are the obvious threat, travelers face other hazards when passing through the forest. Overland speed is cut in half due to the dense growth and obstacles, and in tactical situations much of the land should be considered difficult terrain; alternatively, an adventurer who fails a Nature check (DC 18; PCs should be allowed to make passive checks) could unwittingly walk into a patch of stormflowers or disturb a banshee’s bough. All Perception checks in the woods take a –2 penalty due to the constant cacophony of strange insects, scurrying tryyl, and the distant howls of trees and beasts alike.

Due to the strange nature of the region, PCs can use either Dungeoneering or Nature for foraging, but an adventurer takes a –5 penalty to the check—and with the number of poisonous and hallucinogenic substances in the woods (including the mucus the skinweavers use to preserve their fleshy webs) failure can have unpleasant consequences. One of the most common maladies is a disease known as verdant whispers; however, the DM should feel free to introduce other diseases.

If they can survive the dangers of the forest, adventurers eventually come to a vast clearing at its heart, where the tower of Blackroot reaches up toward the sky. On close examination, the windowless tower appears to be made from the flesh of a black dragon; the walls bleed if damaged, though they regenerate at an astonishing rate. In some of the stories, Mordain welcomes visitors into the open gates of the tower; in others they must battle vicious guardians or carve a passage through the bleeding walls. The reception visitors receive depends on their purpose, as well as whether Mordain thinks of them as guests—or raw material for his next round of experiments.

Skinweavers

No corpse is wasted in Mordain’s domain. The skinweaver builds webs from skin and muscle, stretching entrails between trees and bones in a grotesque mockery of a spider. Heads and hands become hosts for the foul creatures’ spawn. Some might assume that skinweavers could be created only from the bodies of warlocks or wizards, but the arcane powers of these creatures are instinctual; thanks to Mordain’s twisted skills, a fighter’s head can also cast spells in the Forest of Flesh.

Although skinweavers can induce decomposition, a skinweaver head can also produce a clear mucus that preserves flesh. This has an effect similar to gentle repose, and it preserves the creatures’ webs. Most skinweavers work in the midst of a network of vile strands, which are treated as difficult terrain. A skinweaver’s forest walk allows it to ignore its own webs.

Skinweavers are formed from the severed hands and heads of humanoid beings. The flesh is perfectly preserved, and a skinweaver head can even be beautiful—until one takes a closer look. The heads have six spindly, chitinous legs protruding from the sides of the skull and two smaller foreclaws, with a spiderlike abdomen sealing the base of the neck. A skinweaver hand is severed beneath the wrist and mounted on an armored body similar to that of a scorpion, with the hand in place of the scorpion’s tail. Skinweaver flesh is far tougher than that of the original humanoid, and these creatures can take a surprising amount of damage.

Skinweaver hands are psychically bound to a particular skinweaver head, and they act with perfect, silent coordination. If a skinweaver group is present, determine initiative only for the heads; the hands act on the same phase as their linked head. If a skinweaver head is killed, its linked hands immediately focus their attacks on the killer and continue to fight until slain. If the hands survive, they seek a new head with which to bond. Skinweavers do not employ any language, but the heads are excellent mimics and repeat phrases said around them in battle.