d100
Wilderness Discoveries
Landmarks, finds and strange places off the beaten path.
Ready
| d100 | Result |
|---|---|
| 1 | A ring of standing stones, waist-high, warm to the touch, humming very faintly. |
| 2 | An abandoned campsite with a cold fire pit and a kettle still hanging over it, full of fresh water. |
| 3 | A tree struck by lightning years ago, still smoldering gently at the core. |
| 4 | A perfectly straight path through the undergrowth, a hand's width wide, made by nothing you know. |
| 5 | A hunter's blind built for someone twice human size, recently used. |
| 6 | A shallow pool that reflects the sky of a different hour. |
| 7 | An old boundary stone with a name on each side; the names are the same, spelled differently. |
| 8 | A beehive in a hollow trunk; the honeycomb is built in perfect squares. |
| 9 | A rope bridge over a gorge, well-maintained, with a toll box on the honor system and a guest book. |
| 10 | A clearing where all the grass lies flat in a spiral, still slowly settling. |
| 11 | The skeleton of an enormous fish, miles from any water, half-buried, ancient. |
| 12 | A woodsman's cabin, swept and stocked, with a note: 'Take what you need. Replace what you can. - W.' |
| 13 | An orchard gone wild; one tree in the center is pruned, recently, with love. |
| 14 | A stone well in the middle of nowhere; the rope is new, the bucket is missing. |
| 15 | Wolf tracks and a child's bootprints, side by side, unhurried, heading the same way. |
| 16 | A shrine to a forgotten travel god, seeds and coins in its bowl; the birds will not touch either. |
| 17 | An entire hillside of flowers that close when spoken to loudly. |
| 18 | A rusted portcullis set into a hillside, no walls on either side of it, locked. |
| 19 | A waterfall that falls in silence; the roar begins twenty paces downstream. |
| 20 | A cart wheel nailed high on a pine trunk, the old sign for 'ford this way' - or 'plague', depending on whom you ask. |
| 21 | An oak split by an old storm, healed around a sword nobody could pull free, so the tree kept it. |
| 22 | A salt lick visited by deer, boar and, judging by one set of prints, something that walks on two legs and has hooves. |
| 23 | A ruined watchtower, top floor intact, reachable, dry, with a magnificent view and old initials carved by other travelers. |
| 24 | Butterflies wintering in a sheltered hollow, thousands of them, opening and closing like a slow breath. |
| 25 | A dry riverbed paved with flat stones - too flat; this was a road once, and the river used it. |
| 26 | A tree with a door-shaped scar; knock and the woodpeckers answer, mockingly. |
| 27 | A stone table in a meadow, big as a barn door, with benches for twelve; locals leave it strictly alone on solstice nights. |
| 28 | An old trap pit, staked, and at the bottom a skeleton - of the trap's builder, by the tools. |
| 29 | The wreck of a river barge in a forest, upright between the trees, leagues from the nearest river. |
| 30 | A patch of forest where it is always dusk, pleasant and cool; birds sing evening songs here at noon. |
| 31 | A crossroads of game trails marked by a cairn with fresh flowers on it, this deep in the wild. |
| 32 | A hermit's garden, immaculate, unfenced, unraided; the deer stand at its edge and do not enter. |
| 33 | A hollow filled with mist that does not burn off; things thrown in land, audibly, twice. |
| 34 | A hot spring terraced with careful stonework, centuries old, still perfect, still hot. |
| 35 | An answering echo that takes one syllable too long, and adds a friendly tone. |
| 36 | A ranger's cache in a hollow tree: rations, arrows, a map, and a note asking whoever takes it to mind the western bridge. |
| 37 | A ruined mill with a wheel that turns steadily in a stream that has moved forty paces away. |
| 38 | Berries out of season, one bush only, heavy with fruit, in the exact shape of a sleeping bear. |
| 39 | A stone stair, twelve steps, up the side of a bluff, ending in air; the top step is worn deepest. |
| 40 | A grove where every tree has been struck by lightning exactly once, and all survived. |
| 41 | A giant's cairn - or just a hill of boulders, except boulders do not stack like that, and one of them snores in winter. |
| 42 | A ford where the stepping stones are old millstones; number seven wobbles, and always has, says the carving on it. |
| 43 | The bones of a great serpent arching over the trail like a gate; travelers hang ribbons from its ribs. |
| 44 | A lone chimney standing in a meadow, hearth swept, no house, smoke on cold mornings. |
| 45 | A pond that freezes with a pattern of concentric rings; skaters swear the middle ring hums. |
| 46 | An avenue of poplars along nothing, planted by someone with a plan the centuries misplaced. |
| 47 | Wild horses that watch from the ridgeline for a full day, then send one, alone, to look at you closely. |
| 48 | A shepherd's shelter with a slate roof and a slate library: two dozen slates, each carved with one hard-earned lesson. |
| 49 | A dead forest of white trunks, utterly silent, where your breath fogs regardless of season, and paths of green moss show the way through. |
| 50 | A tar pit ringed by warning stakes in six languages; the seventh stake is newer and just says 'STILL'. |
| 51 | An eagles' nest the size of a rowboat on a crag, decorated - unmistakably decorated - with blue things. |
| 52 | A meadow of night-blooming flowers that open at moonrise with a sound like a sigh. |
| 53 | An old battlefield gone green; the barrow in its middle has a door, and the door has a knocker. |
| 54 | A creek that runs uphill for thirty paces to clear a rise, then resumes as if nothing happened. |
| 55 | Cave mouths in a cliff face like a row of windows; swallows use all but one. |
| 56 | A fairy ring of white mushrooms, and inside it, the grass is a season ahead. |
| 57 | A hanging bog where the ground breathes underfoot; locals cross it only behind their oldest goat. |
| 58 | A single grave with a fine headstone: a name, no dates, and 'SHE WAS RIGHT'. |
| 59 | A wooden footbridge over nothing - the stream is gone - kept in repair by someone who remembers it. |
| 60 | An ancient road revealed by drought, running straight into the lake and, presumably, out the other side. |
| 61 | A tree grown through and around a knight's breastplate, wearing it now at heart height. |
| 62 | A colony of ravens that have learned to say 'beware' and clearly enjoy the effect far too much. |
| 63 | A landslip that exposed a wall of fitted stone deep in the hillside - fitted from the inside. |
| 64 | A box canyon full of drift-blossom in every season; weddings are held here; so, once a year, is something else. |
| 65 | A salt spring where the deer stand in line, actually in line, at dawn. |
| 66 | An abandoned village reclaimed by forest, except the bakery, which the moss will not touch. |
| 67 | A stone head, house-high, half-buried, ear to the ground, expression attentive. |
| 68 | A row of seven wells along a dry ridge; six are dry; the seventh is always exactly half full. |
| 69 | A blackberry hedge grown in a perfect square around nothing visible; the birds inside sound different. |
| 70 | A trapper's line of snares, all sprung, all empty, all reset - facing the other way. |
| 71 | A midden of cracked nuts at a trail crossing, tidy as an office; the squirrel in charge accepts tolls. |
| 72 | A cliff face streaked white where, once a year, per the shepherds, the mountain 'weeps'; the pool below cures headaches and causes honesty. |
| 73 | An old signal beacon, stacked and dry, tarred and ready, tended by nobody for a war that ended long ago. |
| 74 | A forest pool with a rowboat exactly in its middle, painted fresh, no oars, no rope, no tracks. |
| 75 | A lightning-glass scar in a sandy hollow, branching like a buried tree of green glass. |
| 76 | A stand of pines that have grown in a perfect grid; the forester's guild denies planting them and has opened a file. |
| 77 | A cairn trail up a mountain nobody climbs, maintained, with a summit box holding a logbook of one repeated name. |
| 78 | The rib cage of a leviathan converted, long ago, into a barn; the farm around it is gone; the hay inside is fresh. |
| 79 | A moss-covered milestone reading 'THE MIDDLE'; equidistant, scholars confirm, from nothing in particular. |
| 80 | A stream that carries blossom in autumn and leaves in spring, arriving from somewhere with opposite seasons. |
| 81 | A hunting lodge of the old kings, sealed by ivy; through the window: the table set, the chairs pushed back in haste. |
| 82 | A whistling gully - wind through rock - that plays, on stormy nights, an entire recognizable melody, always the same one. |
| 83 | A badger sett under a ruined shrine; the badgers have inherited the offerings and the attitude. |
| 84 | An erratic boulder balanced on three small stones, placed, physics agrees, by someone very strong with a sense of humor. |
| 85 | A firefly hollow where the lights move in slow formations; shepherds call it 'the parade' and doff their hats crossing it. |
| 86 | A dried lake bed with hundreds of small stone cairns, one per drowned name, tended by the fish-eagle that nests above. |
| 87 | A yew older than the kingdom, hollow, room for six inside, with benches, a candle shelf and centuries of carved confessions. |
| 88 | An icehouse mound, intact, still cold, still stocked with last winter - and one block of ice with a fish inside that watches. |
| 89 | The bed of a vanished river with a ferryman's bell on a post; ring it, and somewhere upstream, water begins to move. |
| 90 | A larch that drops golden needles into one stream-fed basin only; drinking there returns one lost memory, small and kind. |
| 91 | A wall of stacked antlers, generations deep, at the treeline; the herd renews it each spring; nobody has seen how. |
| 92 | A sunken lane between hedgebanks, older than any map, that shortens every journey by an hour and asks nothing for it, yet. |
| 93 | A clearing of ash and rebirth: fire-scarred trunks, and between them, the densest, greenest growth for miles. |
| 94 | A boulder field where every stone fits its neighbor; from the ridge above, it is a face, asleep. |
| 95 | A brook that runs over a bed of old coins, offerings of a village that no longer exists; the water tastes faintly of luck. |
| 96 | An owl parliament at noon: forty owls in one dead tree, awake, silent, attending to something you cannot see. |
| 97 | A high pass shrine with a bell rope and a sign: 'RING ONCE FOR THANKS. TWICE FOR HELP. NEVER THRICE.' |
| 98 | A green lane of soft turf that keeps beside you, one field over, for half a day, and is gone when you look for it deliberately. |
| 99 | A hollow tree stuffed with decades of travelers' notes to each other; the newest is addressed to a party member. |
| 100 | Roll twice more; the wilderness put them next to each other on purpose. |