Wendell’s Wonders - Player Wiki

Welcome to the player reference for our Wendell’s Wonders campaign. This wiki contains information your characters have learned through play.

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People We’ve Met

Everyone the crew has encountered, from Grove Proctors to mysterious protectors.

Places We’ve Been

Wendell’s Landing, the Saw Mill, the Festival, and beyond.

Factions & Organizations

The powers that shape Wendell’s Landing and the wider world.

Key Concepts

The Grove, the Mixtape, GrovePass, and other important terms.

The Crew

We are childhood friends, reunited at the Bioluminescent Festival in Wendell’s Landing after years apart. We’ve discovered that our shared memories of a childhood dance recital were fabricated — we were actually trained by our friend Stevie to fight a creature called the Metronome, and our real memories were erased and replaced.

Our Members

• Albert Foley - Martial artist, dojo owner (Diamond Martial Arts — now destroyed by The Grove)
• Frankie - The prankster, the GOAT — warrior with a different kind of magic
• Harmony Demise - Super-klutzy everywhere except home — loses the clumsiness in Wendell’s Landing
• Royvan Ashbark Emberstone - Dracona with a glow-up, builder and tinkerer
• Spark - Grove Agent turned rebel, the one who engineered the reunion
• Tarine - Go Go Gladiator celebrity, turned against The Grove after they exploited her likeness

Campaign Timeline

Session Zero (Parts 1 & 2) - World Building

We built the world of Wendell’s Landing together — a coastal town where the Bioluminescent Festival draws us back after years apart. The Grove has taken over everything.

Session 1 - The Reunion

We returned to Wendell’s Landing for the Bioluminescent Festival. The bay glowed neon blue while Grove-Green floodlights covered the boardwalk. We drifted to the Old Saw Mill — drawn there without knowing why. Found a dusty cassette labeled “Stevie’s Mix.” Memories started flooding back. A Grove Proctor came to investigate.

Session 2 - The Mix Tape

In the Saw Mill, we played Stevie’s Mixtape on the impossibly-powered boombox. Each song peeled back a layer of fabricated memory: “Gas Leak Gospel” revealed the memory technicians in white rooms. “Snow in September” showed us Stevie dying, not moving away. “Missing from Class” turned our recital applause into the sound of arcane combat. We remembered the Metronome — a towering figure of interlocking gears we defeated through ritual choreography at the cost of Stevie’s life. Grove Proctors Jim and Janet arrived. We fought them — punched, bound, charmed, and escaped. The session ended with Diamond Martial Arts burning on the horizon. The Grove’s answer to our rebellion.

Session 3 - Fugitives at the Festival

We woke up to the smoke of Foley‘s dojo still burning behind us. Foley on his knees in the street: “Why? Why?” — and Tarine slapped him out of it with the line that became our anthem: “Hit me. I know how to defend myself because of this.” Foley fed his student John a cover story about a candle left burning. Then we ran. Through the festival, with the bay glowing too-blue and the wristbands pulsing wrong on our wrists. We discovered the wristbands were alive — thin tentacles of grey threading from underneath, trying to burrow into skin. We made it to Winnie and got moving. In the back of the RV, Spark played Stevie’s tape through Royvan’s tape deck. Harmony’s voice came through in our heads — telepathy, suddenly, all of us patched in. The tape glitched mid-song and a calm older voice came through — Mister-Rogers warm, James-Earl-Jones deep — saying simply: “Anomaly detected. Signal lost. Go to the seaside.” Hours of road later, headlights came up. Four figures were standing in the middle of the highway, waiting. End of session.

Session 4 - The House on the Hill

The figures on the road were not Grove. They led us — or escorted us — to a place we’d known about our whole lives but never gone to: the house on the hill above the bay. When we crossed the threshold, the sharp stone underfoot softened into moss (or shag carpet, depending on whose feet were on it), and the bone-cold of the room melted into perfect comfort. Mr. Wendell was there. Older than he should be. Warmer than he had any right to be. He told us what Stevie hadn’t lived long enough to: that we weren’t the scary thing. We were the helpers. Stevie knew it. He’d taught Stevie how to teach us — “This is how she taught you the magic, but I taught her, and this is how she brought me back here.” Then he gave us each something we’d been carrying without knowing it. Royvan‘s rusty tin lunchbox (the brass-and-iron pieces inside lifting and assembling themselves into whatever the moment required). Tarine‘s industrial flashlight (filled with concentrated starlight — blinds the wicked, clears stress from allies). The pristine leotards. And, for Harmony, a small silver tuning fork that hummed when struck. Then he named our enemy: the Metronome. A being older than the Grove, older than the Blackweald, older than most names — co-opted by the Grove now, but ancient. He sent us back to the festival to find more clues.

Session 5 - The Bleeding Is Not Inside

Back in Winnie, we had a tied-up Proctor Judy in the rear. She didn’t beg, didn’t fight — she pitied us. “You have mistaken pain for identity,” she told us, calm as a doctor. “The bleeding is not inside. The Bleed is out there — the chaos, the grief, the fire. We are just the suture. Why do you fight the bandage?” The line carved into us. The Grove was already at the Old Saw Mill — capping our childhood sanctuary. We snuck back through the festival in stolen Grove uniforms, slipped past the beer garden and the local rock band, and looked down on what they were doing: the Mill wrapped in translucent plastic and grey fungal resin, dozens of Proctors moving in silent unison, pumping freezing foam into the earth to cap the magical aquifer beneath. Then the pressure broke. The Bleed punched up through the roof — a column of impossible light, sparks like shattered stars, shedding color in a way nobody else in the festival could see. And as our eyes lifted, the Bleed stretched across the night sky and wove itself into a web — connecting to other dormant antennas across the continent. A star map. A network. We had seconds before the Grove’s cap took hold and the map faded. We recorded it every way we could: phone photos, Spark’s data banks, Harmony’s journal sketch, Royvan opening his rusty lunchbox so the erector-set pieces flew out and built a model of what we were seeing. We escaped down the steps as the erector-set pieces tripped Proctors behind us, dove into Winnie, and tore away. The final image in the rearview mirror: the Bleed stuttering, shrinking, going dark. The door to Wendell’s Landing was shut. The road trip began.

Session 6 - The Open Road & Hollow Creek

Driving through the night, away from the only town we’d ever called home. Dawn rose over a small town called Hollow Creek — pop. 400. We stopped at a gas station and met Marco, 17, a drummer, friendly. He mentioned his uncle Lyndon Gravelli. We ate at the Owl’s Nest diner where the jukebox seemed to know us — Starlight Atlas gave us all Hope; Clockwork Beast gave us all stress. Then Lyndon walked in mid-meal, and he was off in ways we couldn’t name. Never blinked. Watched the parking lot through the reflection in a napkin holder. Smelled like antifreeze and burnt sugar. Counted out crisp ironed bills. He cornered Royvan with non-stop RV talk and knew Winnie’s chassis specs to the year. Harmony’s new telepathy reached three of us, broadcasting “something is wrong about him.” Spark spilled marzipan technical fizz on his windbreaker as a deflection. He left. Foley tailed him out and confirmed, with horror: Marco didn’t recognize his own uncle, and Marco himself looked frightened as Lyndon approached him at the end of the night. We ran. Left Marco at the diner. The session ended with us tearing south on the open road, Clockwork Beast fading behind us.

Session 8 - Code Blue, Sector Eleven

We didn’t run. We trapped Linda. At an abandoned weigh station three miles down the valley, Spark played stranded hitchhiker and the rest of us laid in wait. Three Grove Proctors came out — Jamus, Jeremiah, Julie. Frankie slashed a tire. Royvan‘s crossbow killed Jamus, who collapsed into mycelium goo on the asphalt — the first time we’ve actually seen what a Proctor is. Harmony Shadow-Bound Jeremiah, who told us “ten of you next time, twenty the next.” Royvan severed Jeremiah’s shackles with an axe and sent him back as a message. Linda drove off with the puddle. The Grove knows we kill now. Then we descended into Arborolus — living-wood mid-rises, streetcars on grown rails, hurdy-gurdy festival posters everywhere — and checked into The Verdant Mare. There we met Greenlace, a tiefling-blood waitress with a Grove-issued mechanical index finger. Harmony’s tuning fork made her drop a tray of drinks. Greenlace described the Grove side effects in two words: amnesia, loss of identity. She asked us to help take the finger off. She also pointed us at Old Tracks Antiquarian, where Royvan‘s cousin Edward apparently runs a shop — but we didn’t get there. We went after GroveWell Clinic instead. Frankie posed as celebrity-adjacent “Gina Davis” with Tarine as her emotional-support companion. The receptionist, Cynthia, recognized Tarine on sight as Go Go Gladiator and got us through intake, blood draw, and — via Tarine’s fan-charm — lab access via her keycard. In the lab, Harmony‘s tuning fork crashed two computers and Spark sat down at a working terminal and deleted every one of our files (except his own). Every file was stamped “CODE BLUE — IF FOUND BRING TO SECTOR ELEVEN.” Spark also asked Cynthia about “the metronome” — she went quiet and answered “did you say metronome?” The Grove knows the word too. We learned the Grove tests blood for coltanite — “God’s blood,” the ore that has powered our world for centuries. Cynthia gave us her Mycom number. We left. We walked toward the Heartwood Cathedral spire as it began to bioluminesce silver-blue at dusk. And at an outdoor café in the cathedral square, sipping tea in a too-tan jacket, was Lyndon Gravelli: “Oh, hey kids! You made great time! Marco says hello.” End of session.

Session 7 - The Long Drive South

The morning after Hollow Creek, dawn breaking over the foothills, we sat with the weight of leaving Marco behind in the diner with a man who wasn’t quite his uncle. Spark ran blood tests on the party using a centrifuge in Winnie — and found us clean. No mycelial threads. No Grove infection. The scars on Tarine‘s skin from her Grove-treatment career looked, impossibly, softer than the week before. Most of us — bar a few humans — turned out to be descendants of older magical ancestries, and our real, inherited magic was beginning to wake. We compared every record of the Star Atlas we’d captured: phone photos, Harmony‘s journal, Spark‘s data banks. Six nodes, all over Calandria. Then Royvan opened his rusty erector-set lunchbox — and the brass-and-iron pieces inside self-assembled into a small skeletal model of the continent, and a seventh, hazy node hovered in empty air over the strait. Nobody else’s record showed it. We decided to head south toward Arborolus — the closest node — to find out what these places really are. On the road, Tarine got a phone call from Pyro Turbo that started cheery and rehearsed and ended with a whispered “whatever you’re running from, keep running — you were always the better one.” We did. And as we descended into the valley toward Arborolus, Royvan heard the unmistakable V-8 turbo of Winnie‘s twin engine somewhere down in the dark. Then a pair of headlights flickered on across the valley, held for three seconds, and snapped off. We’re being followed. The session ended there.

Session 9 - The Man at the Café

We walked out of GroveWell at dusk and Lyndon was waiting for us — sitting at a café in the cathedral square, smiling, offering to buy us tea. He already knew we’d been at the clinic. He kept Marco’s name in his mouth like a lever (“He’s fine. He’s better than fine”) and, on his way out, casually threatened our family: he knew about Royvan‘s cousin, the collector on the south hill — “we’ve been meaning to pay him a proper visit ourselves. Soon.” We didn’t take the bait or the fight. We took the long way up the hill to reach him first. The shop, Old Tracks, turned out to front an estate: Pell Manor, ivy-grown living-wood, three stories. Cousin Edward met Royvan with “You’ve got your mother’s spots” — and he is everything the Grove’s smiling fakes are not: real family, still himself, the sharpest and best-resourced person in the city, and he’d been waiting for us. Over tea (and his butler Arthur, and Millie his glowing pet centipede), Edward gave us more straight answers than we’ve had all campaign: the antennas are “windows,” not weapons, built by the same hands that built the cities; the Black Wheel of old myth is the Grove of today, and it can mimic anything — even, in legend, a living train; the Grove wants the antennas in order to become “seven minds in one place.” Our gear symbol is an ancient surveyor’s mark — “an invitation.” He offered us Pell Manor as our home base (he owns nothing Grove-made), promised to research our artifacts, and pointed us to Brother Aldred Pell at the cathedral as our way up the spire. For the first time this whole campaign, we have a safe harbor. We took the keys — and headed back out toward the cathedral.

Last Updated: Session 9