The more money, the stranger the problem.
How are you going?
How are you going, he asked
It’s a bit late for that, I responded.
POEM
The rise and fall of a friendship
My near loss of a brother –
Rocked with illness our father
And the lies I tell for work.
Dajius – the Master
Possible Party Interactions
- A Plea for Cooperation:
The Master might reach out directly—either in person or through an emissary—to explain that the spell sustaining the party’s humanity is failing. In this interaction, he appeals to them as his “children,” asking for their help in stabilizing his life’s work before they revert to something worse. This can lead to tense negotiations where the party must decide whether to trust him or fight against him. - An Ominous Ultimatum:
In another scenario, the Master could confront the party with a stern warning: if they do not submit to his plan (or work with him), the curse will overrun them entirely. This encounter might take place at a pivotal moment—perhaps in the haunted corridors of Wightlych Academy—forcing the party to choose between immediate combat or reluctant collaboration. - Subtle Manipulations Through Dreams or Memories:
The Master might influence the party indirectly by seeding shared visions, dreams, or memories that suggest his intervention is the only path to true freedom. These interactions are subtle enough that the party must question whether they’re being manipulated or helped—a moral gray area that deepens the mystery of their origins. - A Last-Ditch Rescue:
Should the party find themselves overwhelmed by forces working against them (or by the deteriorating effects of their curse), the Master might appear unexpectedly to save one or more members. This act of mercy (or calculated benevolence) forces the party to reconsider their perception of him as a villain.
Possible Outcomes
- Alliance and Redemption:
If the party chooses to work with the Master, they might help refine his experimental magic. The outcome could be a ritual that permanently stabilizes their humanity, at the cost of binding them more closely to his enigmatic vision. In turn, the Master might begin to see the value in their free will, shifting his role from manipulator to mentor. - Conflict and Rebellion:
Alternatively, if the party resists his influence, a direct confrontation could ensue. This battle might reveal that his experiments—while well-intentioned—have led to unintended horrors. The party could succeed in dismantling his arcane network, but in doing so, risk losing the only protection they have against the complete reversion of their curse. - Tragic Sacrifice:
A third outcome might see the Master ultimately sacrificing himself to give the party a final chance at normalcy. In a climactic scene at Wightlych Academy, he could channel all his remaining power into one final spell—either saving the party or transforming them irrevocably into beings that are neither fully undead nor human. - Moral Ambiguity and Transformation:
In a more nuanced resolution, the conflict with the Master might force both sides to compromise. Perhaps his experiments are only a piece of a larger cosmic puzzle about life, death, and what lies in between. The party’s choices could redefine his work, leading to a new understanding of life—a bittersweet victory where neither side is wholly right or wrong.
Possible Motives for the Master
- A Vision of Perfect Life:
At his core, the Master is driven by the desire to defy the natural order of decay and madness. His motive is to create a new form of life—one that carries the intellect and free will of the living but the resilience of the undead. He sees his subjects as a stepping stone toward a perfected existence that will liberate them from the frailties of mortality. - Parental Regret and Redemption:
The Master’s actions may stem from a deeply personal tragedy—perhaps the loss of someone dear or a failure of his own mortal life. In his eyes, reanimating the lost children of Wightlych Academy isn’t an abomination but a second chance, a way to right a wrong by giving them back a semblance of the life they should have had. His interactions are tinted with both paternal care and the bitter regret of what he can never truly undo. - Desperation to Correct a Cosmic Imbalance:
He might also believe that the natural order is broken, and that by reanimating his subjects with true humanity, he is setting things right. In his mind, the experiment is not merely a scientific or magical endeavor but a necessary correction against an inherent injustice of the world—a world where the truly gifted (or damned) are meant to transcend their mortal shells. - Fear of His Own Legacy:
The Master could be motivated by the dread of his own failures. Every experiment, every reanimated soul, is a reminder of his inability to fully control death and its consequences. As the spell weakens, he might be desperate to prove that his creation—his “children”—can continue to defy fate, even if it means resorting to morally ambiguous or drastic measures.
These interactions, outcomes, and motives can be mixed and matched, allowing you to tailor the Master’s character to your campaign’s tone. Whether he becomes a tragic, misunderstood figure, a formidable adversary, or even an uneasy ally, the Master’s layered personality adds a rich, moral dimension to the unfolding story.
The clues of undeath
Additional Subtle Clues for the Players
These details will reinforce the eerie truth of their origins without outright stating it, allowing the players to piece it together themselves.
8. No One Remembers Them
When they interact with townspeople from their reactions are oddly distant. People they believe they knew look confused when greeted. “I don’t think we’ve met,” they say. Even those who should recognize them—the innkeeper who let them stay years ago, the old woman who once called them a nuisance—seem uncertain.
9. The Smell of Old Earth
They occasionally catch a scent on the wind—damp earth, rotting wood, the musk of graves long forgotten. Sometimes, it’s on their clothes. Sometimes, it’s on their breath. It clings to them when they wake, as if they had been somewhere else while they slept.
10. Strange Reactions from Animals
Dogs growl and whimper at their approach. Horses spook and shy away. Even crows watch them too intently—not with fear, but recognition. The birds do not caw at them. They simply stare, as if waiting for something.
11. The Missing Heartbeats
One night, while resting, one of them—perhaps while checking their wounds—presses a hand to their chest. They realize they can’t feel their heartbeat. In panic, they check another party member. Nothing.
But then, moments later, it returns—faint, slow, but not quite right. It happens again at random, their heartbeats stopping for moments, then restarting without pain or consequence.
13. The Stars Are Not the Same
At night, one of them looks up and realizes the constellations feel unfamiliar. A scholar or navigator might struggle to find their bearings, feeling that something about the sky has shifted since their childhood. Perhaps the stars they remember… no longer exist.
14. The Academy’s Forgotten Wings
If they search the ruins of Wightlych Academy, they may find sealed-off halls that are too well-preserved. Unlike the burnt out remains of the main hall, these wings were deliberately hidden, untouched by time. Old rooms remain exactly as they left them, their childhood belongings still pristine, as if waiting for them to return.
One such room might have neatly folded uniforms in their exact sizes, as if they never left.
15. The Blood That Isn’t
If they are wounded and someone examines their blood closely, they will notice something off. It clots too quickly. Under the right light, it seems to have a dark, ink-like sheen.
A trained healer or alchemist might notice something worse—it’s too still. It lacks the warmth and movement of living blood.
Final Revelation (When They Piece It Together)
As the clues mount, the realization will be undeniable: they were never alive when they left Wightlych Academy.
They were undead children, given an unnatural life by the Master’s work. For 33 years, they have walked the world as if they were human—but that spell is now fading. The Master never intended for them to escape.
Because in truth, they never did.
Krhaal – character desc
Before Transformation
Krhaal was always the quiet one, the thoughtful one. Taller than most, always stooping, with a wiry frame that gave him the look of someone who had learned to endure hunger and hardship without complaint. His dark, shoulder-length hair was often unkempt, falling into his sharp, tired eyes—eyes that were always searching for something unseen, something lost. They held a strange mix of intelligence and sorrow, as if he had spent his whole life unraveling a puzzle that no one else could see.
His hands were calloused from years of living rough. Cutting wood, scribbling notes, sketching symbols, and turning the brittle pages of forgotten tomes. Even as a child at Wightlych Academy, Krhaal had an obsession with knowledge, especially the kind that should have remained buried. He was the first to question the oddities of their existence, the first to sense that something was wrong beneath the surface of their so-called education.
Despite his sharp mind, he was not cold. He had a dry, often morbid sense of humor, a way of deflecting fear with wit. He was the one who kept the group steady when they planned their escape, the one who never wavered when they set the fire that should have covered their tracks forever. But even then, a shadow lingered in his thoughts—an unease that he never fully spoke of.
After their escape, he lived in solitude, withdrawing from the world as if afraid of what he might become. His home in The Hollow Pines was filled with half-written letters, books on alchemy and other academic theory, and strange symbols scrawled on scrolls. Over the many years he grew gaunt, haunted, speaking of whispers in his dreams, of a hunger that gnawed at the edges of his mind.
And then, the letters began.
By the time the party returned to his home, Krhaal was already gone.
What they found was not him, but a message scrawled in blooded ink.
Draft Letters
Letter 1:
They are coming for us.
I feel it, more than any paranoia. Their hunger for us grows. Resolute searching that never stopped.
They hunger for us – not as food but as something else. Something darker. Nefarious whispers in the back of my mind, in my dreams, in the silence of the night. It riles with change, of our return, of the purpose we can’t escape. I can feel it, growing is me, pulling at my soul.
We can’t hide from this. Not anymore.
— K
Letter 2:
Help.
Something has changed. I am weary with lack of sleep, and cold. I don’t know what it is, but it’s growing and I can’t stop it. I feel it creeping up my spine, prickly and sharp. It’s not just my body —it’s my mind I can remember the Academy. Do you remember the experiments? We must meet at the Tarn. Tomorrow night at sunset. I don’t trust myself alone. Bring the others, I need to know that you are ok.
Please. I need to know I’m not alone in this.
— K
Letter 3:
I think I’m close to a breakthrough.
I’ve been remembering the Academy and looking through old notes. The whispers in the shadows – do you remember the Master? I can feel his burning voice in my ears. The screams as we fled. The feeling of freedom, light coming into the world. Hope. But now something is gnawing at me. The price of our freedom – I know we don’t speak of it. Remembering our flight chills me to the bone. It doesn’t go away. No matter what I do. These memories are ice in my veins. We must speak, surely they are the key.
I will be careful with my searching. Please call by my house when you receive this. We must talk.
— K
Letter 4:
We promised we would never go back.
But I don’t have a choice. Not anymore. I can hear the Master’s quill, scraping on the parchment of my skin, scratching cursed knowledge into my bones. The experiments. The cold and starvation of our childhood. We can never be free. They kept us, watched us, shaped us into what we are. Something broken.
I don’t want to go back, but I must. I must face what they did to us.
— K
Dungeons and Dragons
Part 1
Tarn Tavern is dimly lit. The scent of spilled beer, spiced wine and old wood is thick in the air. Outside, rain pattered against the windows, casting shifting shadows across the worn stone walls. Four figures sat around a corner table, their faces lined with the years, their eyes carrying the weight of a shared past.
It had been thirty-three years since they fled the halls of Wightlych Academy– not as students, but as test subjects. The memories were fractured, blurred by time and whatever alchemical horrors had been done to them. But some things never faded: the searing heat of the kitchen fire they set as a distraction, the blood boiled dash through Wightgate, the cold night air hitting their faces as they ran for their lives.
They had sworn -staring into each others black and fearful eyes- never to return.
And yet, here they were.
Each of them had received a letter in Krhaal’s unmistakable hand, scrawled in urgent, cryptic words. Pleas for help. Warnings. References to things they had tried to forget. But one letter, more recent than the others, was different.
“They are coming for us.”
It was all the confirmation they needed. The hunt had resumed.
One of Krhaal’s messages spoke of something deeper, something worse. Mentions of a hunger that gnawed at him. Of a voice that whispered in his dreams. Of changes that he would be powerless to stop.
Part 2
What none of them knew—what none of them could have guessed—was that Krhaal had already been taken. Not by those who had hunted them before, but by something older, colder, and patient beyond reckoning.
Somewhere in the shadows, beyond the veil of the living, Dajius Wightlych (the Master) had claimed him. Krhaal was no longer the man they had known. His body had rotted, his soul withered, his mind hollowed to serve another’s will. He was a drone now, a puppet of the powerful undead necromancer who had orchestrated this from the very beginning.
And worst of all, Wightlych Academy had never truly let them go.
Their escape had been an illusion. A controlled variable in a grander experiment. They were still subjects. Still watched. Their lives, their choices—everything they had believed to be their own—were nothing more than data in a decades-long study.
And now, the next phase was beginning.
Part 3
The Next Phase: The Fading
The party is already marked—they just don’t know it yet. The moment they entered Tarn Tavern, the next phase began. Over the next thirty days, their bodies will slowly wither, their souls unraveling as the magic that has sustained them for decades begins to fail.
Krhaal was just the first.
The Truth They Had Forgotten
For thirty years, they believed they had escaped Wightlych Academy. That their daring flight through Wight Gate, the fire they set as a distraction, and the cold night air on their faces was the moment they won their freedom.
But the truth is far worse.
They did not die in that fire. They were already dead.
The children who fled Wightlych Academy that night were not human—they were undead experiments, raised and shaped by the Master in his desperate attempt to create life from death. His goal was never to command mindless hordes or spread corruption. He wanted to restore what was lost—to bring the dead back not as monsters, but as people.
And with them, he succeeded.
When they crossed the boundary of the Academy’s cursed grounds, something impossible happened: they became human. Flesh and blood. True life, not just an imitation. They had escaped—not just from the Academy, but from death itself.
For 30 years, they have lived normal lives. They have been real.
But now, that miracle is failing.
Signs of the Fading
As the spell unravels, the party begins to experience terrifying changes:
- Memories from the Hive Mind – At first, they assume they are suffering from hallucinations. But the memories are real—fragments of their time at Wightlych Academy, seen not just through their own eyes but through the eyes of every other lost soul who was raised before them. The memories of those who never escaped. The ones who never became human.
- Fading Warmth – Their skin grows cold, their heartbeat slows, and their breath comes in shallow gasps.
- The Smell of Decay – Food becomes tasteless, but the scent of rot and old bones fills them with an odd sense of nostalgia, as if their bodies are finally remembering what they truly are.
- Voices in the Dark – At night, they hear whispers. Not just Krhaal’s, but others. The voices of the dead who were left behind. The ones the Master never got to save.
- Unnatural Strength… and Decay – As their bodies weaken, their unnatural abilities grow. They move faster, their wounds close too quickly—but their reflections in mirrors show glimpses of what they used to be. Their true forms, clawing back through the cracks in the spell.
Part 4
The Master’s Dilemma
The Master was never their enemy.
For years, he has struggled to perfect the magic that gave them life. He believed he had finally succeeded with them, that they would be the first of a new kind of existence—undead, made human, given real souls and real lives.
But now, the spell is failing.
Krhaal’s transformation into a mindless drone was his first failure. But it will not be the last. If the party does nothing, they will follow. Not into death, but into something worse—a state of mindless existence, no will, no self, just hollow remnants of who they once were.
And the Master doesn’t know how to stop it.
The Party’s Choices
They have only 30 days before the spell collapses completely. Their options are few:
- Let the Spell Fade – Accept their fate. They were never meant to exist like this, and perhaps it is time to let go. But what if there is something beyond death? What if they are meant for something more?
- Help the Master Find a Cure – If anyone knows how to save them, it is him. But even he is unsure if the spell can be stabilized. And if he fails, they may become something worse than undead.
- Take Control of the Magic – The Master created them, but what if they can change their own fate? They have spent 30 years living as free-willed beings—perhaps they can reshape the spell from the inside. But tampering with such powerful magic could have unimaginable consequences.
The clock is ticking.
And Krhaal is already waiting for them… on the other side.
Swip
Swap, switch, swip.
Bored with André
Sitting at a table talking about Ndia. “I’m bored” no luck for the honest conventions of siblings.
Don’t tell me what I mean. And don’t guess at what I said. You large handed duck. Clumsy and guessing at your 28 year old humanity. Runining my night. Going and coming. Waste less, fruitless. Boring a cheap hole in my heart. “Do you remember Cherry Bar?” – it was a shot. Perhaps not well fired. Broken pots hold memories of before. Before us, voids in the bowels of gutlessness. Truth, clutching at charisma, turned poison at your untranslatability. Your moron face, gorgon eyes, timid and fraught with error and hope. Roll on, with your ones. Incalculable, pointless and inert. My wish that you’re gone. Pizza and all. Charmed I’m sure.
Patience!
The whispers of ADHD
thecoffeetable 