As summer approaches, Gort Riasc, the small village on the western Irish coast, celebrates Bealtaine (BYAHL-tin-eh). Set just off the rocky sea coast, this oasis of soft green earth shelters a traditional community. Work has reawakened, filling the village green alongside the tender oat, barley and flax that have burst forth, brightening the dark tilled earth with green shoots.
The constant sea wind has settled but still carries the scent of salt and fish. Currachs, simple boats of wicker and hide, have been pulled up above the tide line. No one is fishing today. Dwellings with small eastward facing entryways huddle together for warmth. Smoke rises through chimneys in the thatched roofs. Garlands of yellow primroses and marigolds drape every threshold warding off wicked fae from spoiling the milk. Wreaths of rowan, fruit-bearing shrubs related to roses, grace the heads of cattle destined for grazing further afield. Today, the village green hosts several open fires, roasting meats and bringing large cauldrons to a simmer.
Several women churn cream into butter while gossiping about their foolish husbands. A blacksmith hammers away on black iron and without hesitation or missing even a single stroke of his hammer, pulls canvas over the glint of an exposed sword blade. Young people weave reeds through willow stakes to make baskets that today will carry flowers and tomorrow assume some new role.
As the evening progresses the sounds of hammering steel and preparation give way to the joyous music of fiddles, pipes and drums. Children laugh and play. Young people dance, circling the village green, no longer weaving baskets, but now community. Elders wistfully clap out rhythms from nearby benches remembering the dances of their youth.
The party is all here, milling about amongst these hardy folk. You've been drawn to this village for some practical reason, though that business has faded like a dream you can't quite remember. Everything seems insignificant compared to the urgent, deep pull of this land. You have found a place set apart from the harshness of the Sea and those damnable foreign invaders.
The revelry, however, is abruptly disrupted by a druidic novice, Farech, breaking through the circle. His breath is labored and his eyes gleam with fury under the hood of a blood-splattered green cloak.
"Bocánach (BOH-kawn-akh) have raided the MacCarrick homestead! Those nasty little buggers are on a killing spree. The family's holed up with my master, Cruimín Ó Cuimín (KRIM-een oh KIM-een). He sent me for help. I sneaked past them. They didn't see me. There's not much time left. Please, help me save them!"
As if waiting for this moment your entire life, you step forward and volunteer for adventure!
Quest Through the Cov is a story-based scavenger hunt with light RPG mechanics. Each player chooses a character and follows that character through the same larger story, but with character-specific choices, flavor, and routing.
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Each adventurer brings a unique set of skills, instincts, and loyalties. Who are you?
You step up out of the rising floodwater into a square stone room. The water has not yet reached this chamber, but dark waterlines mark the walls. Set flush into the opposite wall is a stone door with no apparent means of opening it. Beside the door stands a table supporting a bowl filled with Ogham runes. Inscribed on the wall above the table is a riddle:
A riddle unfolds, let truth be told. Four runes unlock the way. Solve the riddle, don't go astray.
Four runes lie in the bowl: Quert, Fearn, Muin, and Duir. Place each rune into the alcove whose clue it answers. The water is now to your ankles. Choose wisely — electricity strikes those who guess wrong.
Select a rune, then click the matching alcove:
Choose an action above first.
Select one of your three eligible abilities. Higher modifiers improve your odds.
Choose an action above first.
Roll a d20 — You need a total of 15 or higher to succeed
Quest Through the COV is an original adventure created for CONington, based on a three-year tabletop campaign by Steven Smith. © 2026 CONington. All rights reserved.