Session 15 — Goldpine and the Games Archfey Play
Date played: TBD Location: Goldpine — The Feywild
The path from the rift led to a village called Goldpine. At its edge, a gnome named Alwen Pike and a satyr named Willa Fenn stepped out to look the party over. “You came out of the forest,” Alwen said, “but you don’t look like you wandered.” That, apparently, made them unusual.
Villagers spoke low over their mugs about people who’d wandered into the forest and come back — always came back, never stayed right. “That’s three this month.”
At the Moonjar Green, over tea and sandwiches, Clever introduced the party to Willow for the first time. The dryad behind the counter listened without much comment while they pieced together what was happening: nearly half of Goldpine had drifted into the forest, drawn by lights and music, and come back wrong — smiling, humming, distant. Most of the party spent the night at the Hearthrest with Hollis Bramblewick, a gruff innkeeper very clearly pretending not to be frightened.
In the morning, a villager pointed them toward a farmhouse covered in ribbons, painted symbols, and chiming glass. Blue-green light burst from the well, and a pixie named Splash appeared mid-spin, mid-pose. “Oh good! Big people! We were running out of new ideas.” She informed them they were ruining her schedule, then pulled Dash aside specifically: “You’re writing this down, aren’t you? Not on paper. In here. That’s dangerous. Stories remember people like you.”
A game had stalled, she explained. Someone important was stuck. In Fey logic, nobody leaves a game before it ends — which was why the villagers kept drifting back. Finish the game, and the village goes home.
First, though — costumes, whether anyone wanted them or not. Clever was dressed in silver ribbons and bells. Dash got clean ribbons across the shoulders — “You’re here to remember the story. That’s way more important.” Matuk received ceremonial sashes. Cyrene was wrapped in dark violet ribbon. Luna got pale blue and moon-silver, with flowers tied into the knots.
Then the ribbon course: looping paths, low arches, narrow gaps strung between posts. “They don’t bite,” Splash said. “They just… remember.” Cyrene passed clean through hers. Luna slipped through in a limbo dodge dramatic enough that the watching pixies lost their minds. Matuk jumped one outright. Clever ducked under hers without breaking stride. A ribbon lashed for Dash’s ankle; they caught the motion, shifted their balance onto their tail, and cleared it at the last second. Willow caught one and kept going anyway.
At the end of the course, a tall figure leaned against the fence post — pale gold hair, easy smile. “You can call me Dree.”
He led them to the Elemental Orchard — trees in perfect rows, bearing frost blossoms and ember-warm fruit, leaves reflecting things that weren’t there. At its center: a sphere of crystal-clear ice with a fey woman suspended inside, frozen mid-expression. “That’s not how it was supposed to end,” Dree said.
The shape of it came together slowly. Three Archfey. A game meant to bring the village wonder — but Naralque, the Orchid Muse trapped in the crystal, had started making people feel chosen, and they’d stopped wanting to leave. Draíoctwyn, Judicar of Elements, called that harm and froze her there, the crystal anchored to three trees: frost, flame, shadow.
The party found the three anchors. No force was needed — just attention, and staying steady. The crystal cracked, softened, and unfurled. Naralque opened her eyes. “Oh. You’re not part of the audience.”
Dree exhaled something that sounded like a laugh he hadn’t known he was holding. “There you are. Please don’t disappear on me again.”
The villagers made their way home, quiet and a little dazed. Willow found her cousin Rowan among them and walked her home herself.
Dash, Cyrene, and Luna still have their pixie ribbons and bells. Clever’s is still tied to her tail.