Dolmenwood and the Crypts of St Clewd are found in the Wormskin zine.
The Company of the Font passed a pleasant evening in the refuge of St. Keye. Keye was an innocuous saint of chroniclers and scholars, but the monks of this spartan place had made a point to study Keye's "Chronicles of the Brewmasters" and now produced a high quality, subtle flavored farmhouse ale. The nightly meal was hearty, though accompanied by the liturgical reads from the Book of St. Keye.
The Company were not the only patrons at the refuge. There were woodsmen, travelers, and a beer merchant. Tales were told of the outlandish breweries in the nearby town of Prigswort, of the curiously resident nature of hauntings in Dolmenwood, compared to the wandering dead of the Duchy of Aerik and the Barrowmoors, and most interestingly, the reward offered by the noble lady of Harrowmoor Keep for the safe return of her missing daughter, Violet.
Nestled in a series of clearings in the deep woods, the Company of the Font came to the the town of Prigwort at the crossing of four of the largest roads which traverse Dolmenwood. Harne the Hermit told that Prigwort was the largest settlement within the wood, renowned for its breweries and distilleries, the like of which a common man has not encountered for which the rich and decadent pay much to sip. The wooden cottages and high-gabled inns — all decorated with colourful, heraldic imagery and elaborate wood carving — welcomed the thirsty travelers in. At the Oaf and Oast, the Company drank deep of the Lord Oberon's Ambrosial and caroused the night away, making fast friendships with the sons of Heggid the Brewmaster, who promised to leave their prosaic lives behind and bear torches to the ruined Abbey of St Clewd. Father Heggid was decidedly ambivalent about this development.
The following day dawned bright in the clearings of Prigwort and the Company dragged their aching heads out of the last soft bed the would experience for some days. A long dusty tramp along the Swinney Road with the Sons of Heggid (Harne the Hermit having stayed behind clutching a cask of saison) brought the party to the foot of a rocky hill, where the road split: a well-used track ran around the base of the hill to join Fort Road; and an overgrown path wound up, via a series of paved avenues and stairways, to the summit of the hill. "Up there," said the Sons, "is the Abbey of St Clewd the Righteous, but we have never been."
The way passed through the toppled frame of the old gate and into the former central courtyard of the monastic complex. Most of the buildings were reduced to rubble, now so overgrown as to pass almost unnoticed. The main chapel, though heavily damaged, remained largely intact, as did a smaller stone building and a crumbling bell tower, which seemed to be the nesting place of a flock of black birds. The whole place had an eerily silent look and the hair stood up on the nape of every travelers' neck.
The explorers first decided to visit the ruined bell tower to get the lay of the land. Entering the dank and mildewed lower chamber they discovered a narrow stair above and three dirty faces staring from a small doorway below. The three face were that of little children, aged no more than a half-dozen summers who told a strange tale of their lives collecting bones and eating worms with their good friend Mr. Rag-n-Bones, who lived in the Belfry. Leaving the Sons of Heggid below with the children, the heroes ascended the stairs, which betrayed them, sending Grack tumbling down, broken but unbowed. Above there was a chamber full of strange ornaments made of small bones lashed together in the likeness of small manlike figurines. They made a diorama across the floor of an invading force descending upon a collection of small boney homes. Calling out to Mr. Rag-n-Bones, the searchers found no answer and so settled down to wait.
As dusk settled over the ruined hilltop, there was a bustling and squawking of birds which rushed into the room and coalesced into an unnerving figure of man made of beaks, claws and feathers. "Who are you who tarry so long in my chambers?"
The conversation that ensued was tense, meandering and strange. The gloaming creature claimed to have great knowledge of the wood but revealed little, claiming the small children as its friends and asserting its right to collect the bones of the dead supplicants of Clewd. Finally, its patience wore thin and it attempted to drive the interlopers from its home, but was surprised by the power of their arms and convictions, and soon a scattering of black birds was sent in retreat.
The way passed through the toppled frame of the old gate and into the former central courtyard of the monastic complex. Most of the buildings were reduced to rubble, now so overgrown as to pass almost unnoticed. The main chapel, though heavily damaged, remained largely intact, as did a smaller stone building and a crumbling bell tower, which seemed to be the nesting place of a flock of black birds. The whole place had an eerily silent look and the hair stood up on the nape of every travelers' neck.
The explorers first decided to visit the ruined bell tower to get the lay of the land. Entering the dank and mildewed lower chamber they discovered a narrow stair above and three dirty faces staring from a small doorway below. The three face were that of little children, aged no more than a half-dozen summers who told a strange tale of their lives collecting bones and eating worms with their good friend Mr. Rag-n-Bones, who lived in the Belfry. Leaving the Sons of Heggid below with the children, the heroes ascended the stairs, which betrayed them, sending Grack tumbling down, broken but unbowed. Above there was a chamber full of strange ornaments made of small bones lashed together in the likeness of small manlike figurines. They made a diorama across the floor of an invading force descending upon a collection of small boney homes. Calling out to Mr. Rag-n-Bones, the searchers found no answer and so settled down to wait.
As dusk settled over the ruined hilltop, there was a bustling and squawking of birds which rushed into the room and coalesced into an unnerving figure of man made of beaks, claws and feathers. "Who are you who tarry so long in my chambers?"
The conversation that ensued was tense, meandering and strange. The gloaming creature claimed to have great knowledge of the wood but revealed little, claiming the small children as its friends and asserting its right to collect the bones of the dead supplicants of Clewd. Finally, its patience wore thin and it attempted to drive the interlopers from its home, but was surprised by the power of their arms and convictions, and soon a scattering of black birds was sent in retreat.
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