A fishing village has gone quiet. The boats still go out, but they return empty, and the fisherfolk speak in someone else's words. The village elder, Mira Denn, dove below to check the reef and surfaced unable to remember her own name for a day. Something beneath the bay is not finished, and the tide is rising. The party must dive into the flooded ruins below and seal the fissure before Carrow's Reach forgets itself entirely.

This is an eerie, mournful underwater exploration that builds to a tragic boss fight. The antagonist, the Warden of Sorrows, is not wrong about the injustice she names, only about the solution. Give the players a sinking settlement that is remembering rather than haunted, two simple pressure mechanics (the visible Descent Clock and the draining Lungwater), and a climax whose real weight is emotional: a grief-entity who stops mid-fight to ask whether anyone even remembers this place had a name. The promise is quiet dread, moments of wonder, and a confrontation that lands harder than its HP total.

Velthuryn is a world where land remembers grief. Along the Bangrave coast, the small fishing village of Carrow's Reach sits above a sheltered bay. Three weeks ago the catches dropped to nothing, and the fisherfolk began speaking words in an archaic dialect, pausing mid-sentence, staring at the water. Below the bay a griefglass reef has cracked, and the fissure runs down into Vel Annis, a pre-Concord settlement that sank centuries ago. The settlement's grief is rising back up through the water, and the village above is beginning to drown in someone else's sorrow. At the center of it is the Warden of Sorrows: Seren Dault, Vel Annis's last tide-reader, whose echo consolidated into a being of pure crystallised grief that is now actively pushing the settlement's sorrow toward the surface so the living will finally understand what was lost.

Wanderborne

Wanderborne characters are well-suited to this adventure's demands, from coastal navigation to improvised equipment to reading tidal conditions. They are at home on the water in a way most people are not, and this stretch of coast is exactly their kind of terrain. Their disadvantage here is social, since the village is an insular community that reserves its trust for people with roots, and a Wanderborne who has not spent time in fishing villages may find the locals less forthcoming than expected.

Loreborne

Loreborne characters are often the first to make sense of what is happening. This world's older records were built by people like them and assume a reader who can interpret notation, citation chains, and forgotten scholarship, and much of what waits here was left in place because someone believed a reader would eventually come. The people you meet tend to default to treating Loreborne PCs as authorities on whatever strange thing is unfolding, and that comes with pressure, since the village wants answers quickly and a Loreborne who cannot deliver risks losing what trust they have.

Underborne

The later stretches of this adventure descend into cramped, enclosed spaces, and Underborne PCs read those places fluently. They notice the structural details that reveal how a place was meant to be used and catch signs of intention where others see only ruin. They may also feel this world's resonance differently, recognizing a pattern that other characters experience as wholly alien, familiar to them if not comfortable. Their disadvantage is that some of the village's suspicion of the sea and what lies beneath it extends to those who seem too at ease with the underground.

Highborne

Highborne characters can buy access to equipment, records, and goodwill that others must earn, and old money runs through this coast's trade routes in ways a Highborne who speaks that language can use to move faster through the village's initial resistance. Their disadvantage is the same as everywhere, since these fishermen distrust people who have never needed the sea to survive, and a Highborne who cannot demonstrate either competence or genuine care will find themselves frozen out at the moments that matter. The forces at the heart of this story, notably, are wholly unimpressed by authority.

Elf

Elves are born of dreamtide light and perceive resonance with unusual clarity. An Elf PC will likely feel this world's echoes more vividly than other characters, not just as impressions but as full sensory fragments. That sensitivity is a gift in places rich with memory and a liability where those same forces press hardest against them. Some of the people you meet associate elves with older, half-remembered things and may initially over-trust an Elf's instincts, a trust that can be earned or squandered.

Dwarf

Dwarves carry deep resonance traditions natively, and they recognize memory-keeping practiced by others as kin to what their own deep-singers have long done. A Dwarf PC may have lineage ties to old coastal settlements and can read construction and craft in a way that reveals what a place understood about itself and chose to become. That recognition gives them an edge in understanding the forces at work here and makes the hardest truths of the story harder to dismiss.

Halfling

Halflings bring the quiet adaptability that this adventure rewards. Their smaller size is genuinely useful in the cramped, difficult passages where a larger character would struggle, and their cautious instincts help them move through danger without being overwhelmed. Some of the people you meet will underestimate a Halfling's ability to handle what lies ahead, which occasionally lets them overhear things that were never meant for them.

Human

Humans are found across every coast community, and this village is no different. A Human PC with any coastal background will find its rhythms familiar, its distrust legible, and its people reachable in ways that take other ancestries longer to navigate. Humans also carry what this adventure is ultimately about, the weight of ordinary grief that the world does not make space for, and its central sorrow can land differently for a character who might recognize its truth in their own family's history.

Faerie

Faerie PCs adapt to liminal and dreamtide spaces in ways that matter here. This world's echoes are legible to them in ways that resist precise analysis, read less like scholarship and more like memory that was never quite put away. They may be among the first to grasp the true shape of what they are facing, and among the first to find that understanding is not enough to resolve it. Their disadvantage is that the village's distrust of the uncanny extends to Faerie, and in a frightened community that unease can complicate the party's credibility.

Goblin

Goblins thrive in the improvised, resource-constrained situations this adventure creates. Where the usual equipment is scarce and the environment is actively hostile, a Goblin PC's ability to build a solution from whatever is at hand can be the difference between the party moving forward prepared or moving forward desperate. They are also naturally suited to tighter spaces and tend to notice the small, useful details that everyone else walks past.

Sage

This is a place that expects you to have answers, and that pressure to explain what others cannot is exactly what makes the Sage shine. Scholarship and historical insight are rewarded, and the people you meet will look to you for judgment whether or not they have reason to.

Bard

A Bard's gift for holding onto what they have heard opens doors here that stay closed to everyone else. They are also the best placed in the party to understand this adventure's central sorrow as a kind of music that has gone unheard for too long.

Druid

Druids feel this stretch of coast as living tissue, and they may sense that something is wrong before anyone else can name it. Their read on the situation is likely to be complicated by ecological truth, since what looks like a problem to solve may also be part of how this place is.

Wizard

Wizards treat this world's deeper forces as formal knowledge to be studied and understood. Their spell-craft may let them recognize patterns and anticipate dangers that a less analytical mind would only meet by surprise.

Rogue

Rogues thrive in tight spaces and difficult terrain, and they have the Finesse for delicate, hands-on work. They are also unusually good at sensing when they are being watched, which turns out to matter more than once.

Ranger

Rangers read a wild landscape with the same fluency scholars read a page, and this is a place that rewards that kind of attention. They tend to earn trust quickly, since their competence with hard terrain is immediately legible to the people who live with it.

Guardian

Guardians anchor the party when things turn genuinely dangerous, making the difference between chaos the group can handle and a fight that goes very wrong. Their steady physical presence also offers plain reassurance to frightened people who need it.

Seraph

A Seraph's light and healing feel like answers in a place full of questions that may not have them, and the gap between what they can offer and what is actually needed is one of the adventure's sharpest emotional edges.

Warrior

Warriors bring tactical discipline to an adventure with real physical stakes, making every encounter more survivable even without deep thematic ties to the story. When the danger is at its worst, that survivability is exactly what the party will be glad to have.

Warlock

A Warlock with a covenant tied to grief, memory, or oath carries particular weight here, marked as someone who has made binding agreements in the dark. Some of the people you meet may distrust a Warlock's power the way they distrust the sea, as something that takes more than it gives, and whether that distrust is warranted is the Warlock's own question to answer.