A harvest queen, a druid of war, a monarch of leaves.
A burned and withered female elven ranger, with a hatred of giants, a love for animals, and a desire to seek out and thank the man who saved her life and disappeared just as quickly.
Has your kid been acting strangely? Returning home late at night, bearing bruises and clothes torn? Something else than puberty may be the reason.
Some elves lose patience teaching the ‘young’ races, and set out to employ harsher methods. A few doubt the very intent of mother nature, and set out to bring their own vision to life.
An environmentally-minded dwarf who opposes the mining of the Kalorsan, the exploitation of goblins in mines and the poisonous, choking fumes from the furnaces of Tr’S-Nang. He is an active member of “Green War”, the dwarfish environmentalist sect, who (though they have renounced their innate dwarfish industrialism) have yet to reach the stage of pacifistic demonstration.
It seemed like a great place to camp. The clearing was good sized and sheltered from the wind. The brook just a few feet away. There is a natural hallow to keep the horses.
Then the night came.
It was like it became a different place. The temperature dropped. The wind, which does not seem to disturb cloth, almost cuts through you like an arctic wind. No one can sleep, as the soft ground has turned hard. The horses are uneasy. The Bats are flying over and stopping in the trees.
And then there is the eyes. There are glowing eyes just inside the tree line watching your group. The mages and clerics can detect nothing, but there is still something there.
(yet there is nothing at all... The Darkness will do nothing unless the players do something to it. And even then it will all seem to be a conincidence.)
Of course, in the morning, it all becomes sweet and light.