The Cursed Brooch of Cormanthor

Walking down the Halfaxe Trail the forest crowds, reaches, and slowly wages its war to return our path into nothing more than a deer trail; salmon berry and nettles defending the soil as their roots moves ever downward. The light that reaches you is quickly extinguished as it tries to penetrate the forest. The wind sifts lazily through the bows causing dappled light to dance around your feet. The smell of decay and life inundate your nostrils as the damp vacuum of verdigris slowly chills your extremities. The magic in these woods is palpable. You recall the tales of Drow, beast, and magic of the forests of Cormanthyr and check your weapon unconsciously, your nerves are aware of every slight movement on the path and its walls. Ahead you can make out the faint sounds of a struggle, but even that seems distant in the dense presence of the forest. The bend in the trail seems to go on forever, wandering deeper and deeper into the nautilus of the forest, you press onward for twenty minutes, the sound all the while not appearing to be getting any closer. The trail straightens and you come across a young woman in robes and a lean man, lithe and expert, prepared for combat, but no signs of battle are apparent. Upon closer inspection you see the man, wearing the raiment of a monk, clutching his side as he receives some invisible blow.

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Once the threat has been dispatched everyone looks about then for the path, but somehow in the midst of all that was happening you have wandered off the trail. Search as you might you cannot regain the road, but instead seem to walk deeper and deeper into the heart of the forest. While you are searching you hear something approach through the brush.

The Cursed Brooch of Cormanthor