Icrpg pdf download free

Log In with Facebook. Log In I am new here. Remember me. Error: No match for email address or password. Password forgotten? Click here. Advanced Search. Average Rating 5 ratings. Until now, it has been found in 3 hardcopy books and numerous PDF's published by Runehammer. Customers Who Bought this Title also Purchased. Reviews 1. Please log in to add or reply to comments. Love this master edition!

Unfortunately I cannot find the print and play figures of the battle suits of the Fall of Arnor adventure. Any chance that thry will be added at some point? Curious about something because I am about to order the hardcover book but I also want the art cards.

Does the Master Ed. Never mind. Quick question, is this a significant rules upgrade from 2E? I'd be very interested to see that in there also! The villains section in the Vigilante City chapter seems to be missing hearts, stun, and other important info. I think they idea is that you come up with the stats, you make them as hard or as easy as you want. Link to Modiphius is not working. Don't know if I'd actually purchase anything from them anyway.

This was mentioned in another thread as well and he said he fixed them but they still appear to be broken. If you have a flgs you can buy from support them. I bought mine from Miniature Market. They still haven't gotten their copies or mine. I reiterate my observation that I would not purchase anything from Modiphius at the moment Did some things get cut?

Don't own that one so I can't compare. I really have to print this out! When will the printer friendly file be available? Seems something still isn't working. I tried the two links in the description and neither worked still. Sorry mate, they look like links, they make the cursor change like links, but they still don't actually click at all. Not a big fan of the new magic system, but having a whole package for the game is great.

From a glance it looks like it updated the rules. Though having it all in 1 place like this PDF would be great. How can a page PDF not have bookmarks? Please please add bookmarks! Either way, folk say she can see the past and the future in that haunting rubble. This is the seat of the Dark Brotherhood, who claim themselves as witch hunters, but are in fact the most powerful witches of all.

Far below these mines are deeper places Some say the Titan destroyed it, or wild seas of old, or even the wrath of snake-men. The mystery remains unsolved, as those who venture there do not return. Many dead ships drift here, voices hang on the ghostly wind. Their architecture stands as a testament to the millennia they have ruled from here, living like demigods among the sublime beauty. Infiltrators, double loyalties, or ensnarements are common here to the unskilled. To the elves who dwell here it is not evil, but simply a way of life that has kept them alive for millenia.

Some are too far gone, mad with lost love or rage, and can no longer communicate as human beings. Using dark magic, they place their vices and sin into other beings. They are sunless, seldom seen, and cannibalistic. Write a mercurial Spell table, and roll it whenever magic is used. Results vary from fizzled Spells to cross-dimensional catastrophes. The elves have kept this creature in perfect condition, and its workings are studied to this day.

Here preserved are the Elven dead, and their endless libraries. Also here is the skeletal snake-king, kept in secret for eons.

Their ranks have been plagued, though, by the ravenous Scorned hordes, who threaten to overrun the island. Dangers from the neighboring Kingdom can be used. Incursions are all too frequent. The city could be a location for several adventures in itself. There abandoned parts of the city, bustling markets, lively arenas and dangerous slums.

Every manner of service and item can be found here, for a price. Evil doers find no quarter here, and are hunted relentlessly. The incarcerated rot in the vast lake castle at Reaver Fjords or are sent to Arlston to fight in the pits. This is mostly due to the dominance of fierce ant people there, who tolerate no intruders. On occasion, they are spotted in foraging parties as far as Nemedia or Gwadan. These subterranean delvers resent the surface world, and though their queen is good-hearted, many of them crave only death for sun-walkers.

They are especially problematic in the northeast, where farms and livestock are raided. For this, they were cursed with immortal wrath, and their ghostly army wanders Grey in a daze of thousand-year old anger. Some say there is a way to free them, but it remains unknown.

Henryk aids the true, defends the weak, commissions noble adventurers, dares to chart the unexplored, and stands firm against all threats to Grey and the wider world. For generations the brewmasters have passed down the secrets of this wondrous drink. The presiding brewmaster is, these days, one Mugs Pink. He is a stout, glad fellow who symbolizes and protects all that is best in the Alfhemic heartland. They are a diverse, boisterous band of heroes, poets, dancers and madmen with little regard for war or doom: they insist the world laugh.

For this reason, the northwestern border of Grey is a forbidden, dangerous place. Though the prison is mostly effective at containing these horrors, the area surrounding the lake is still lurking with what evil seeps out. High atop these snowy peaks, a lost fortress is said to house the old mountain gods. This has long been an obsession of dwarves in the area to discover, but few return from the dizzying heights of those slopes.

The ground has been ravaged and eaten hollow. Things far worse than ant men crawl below the baked dirt. Some say the insects have found a source of power even older than YOG, and will soon threaten all life on Alfheim. For this rumor many explorers have given their lives, but little is yet known Among these is the great henge, which dates all the way back to the Primordius itself.

To even find this place is near impossible in the shifting woods and small-folk roads. Any group entering Mystvar appears in a random part of the forest each morning, unless they can find a way to undo or resist the magic of the trees. Use supplies as normal, but wagons cannot traverse the uneven ground. Roll once per hour to encounter predatory animals.

The beasts grow too large, and the dead often return as banshees to haunt the living. Their howls can be heard echoing across the bare hillsides by starlight, and they have a hatred of the living. They are simple minded, wanton predators who kill to feed, and feed to multiply. They have been driven from their ancestral lands on all sides, and scheme to destroy Nemedia, then all of Eastern Grey. They are a once proud people, now cornered, and they fight like lions. The Nemedians honor a code of valor, but it leaves little room for intruders, weaklings, or civilized men.

They hold their borders with furious, courageous warriors, sometimes only one against dozens, and are said to speak with animals. Little is known of their true ways, for so few are welcome among their mighty ranks. She is a hero to all clans here, and is recognized as supreme war chief for all the clans in time of crisis. Ever has held an alliance with the folk of Westburg, and so keeps that border safe, and open to trade. Deep down, though, he is an honorable and good man. She is Menduh, the oracle of Nemedia, and she seems as old as time.

Their prime directive is to fight the encroachment of civilization and magic into the highlands. They are a loosely affiliated group of raiding parties, whose only code is never to kill one another. They fight for plunder, power, or simply glory. They are most often found near the borders where the action is. Argus is far more ambitious than his predecessor though, and this could prove dangerous for all the neighbors of Nemedia in coming years.

Nemedians avoid the area entirely, but lately the glow of fires can be seen in the sagging walls, and fell voices are heard on warm summer nights.

Something, or someone, has given these creatures the unnatural power to survive across ages of defeat, but no one has returned from the region to tell. It was their blood that battled back the ice Ogres of Bear Crag. Time has left this place abandoned, retaken by ice and rockfall. Still, legend tells of ancient tombs beneath that ruin that hold the relic vault of those heroic highlanders.

Here dark forces take seed, and the land cannot heal. Every day spent there inflicts 1 CON damage, only recovered when free of the area. The mud eats it all. The wall is 50 feet high in places, accented with sharp spiked towers and not a single guard. Its entire surface is hot to the touch. They are cryptic, little known folk who hunt both man and beast for food, and seem to keep some strange pact with the dark forces that curse these lands. They hunt in scouting parties of 4 or more, utilizing snares and other devious methods to make the murk even more deadly.

Every solstice they gather in great numbers and hurl themselves onto the sharp rocks at Spiral Point and Blood Sholes. These spine-toothed giants can eat a horse in one bite, have been seen at more than 50 feet long, and blend perfectly into the baffling scenery. What few dwell here employ armies or corpses, swarms of flies, and sucking mud pits to guard their lairs. Any eye beast located will have magic books in its keeping. It is Ynsmuth, the southern port town.

By magic unknown, it calls to all within 75 miles, luring them to join the gloom there by the Bay of Masts. Any character in extreme duress, be it injury or fear or hunger, while nearby must roll a HARD INT check, or be drawn powerfully to the town. This lure will cause its victims to lie to, betray or even kill their companions to answer its call.

He is neither dead nor alive, but doomed to eternal service. Those who dare the wall must answer to him, but enemies of the Ynsmuth curse find an ally. She is wise, terribly powerful with dark magic, and intrigued by travelers. Few dare the trip, however, as that river delta is infested with gargoleths and tentacled things.

No one knows why, but they leave his ferry unmolested. Its folk have a fishy slime about them, some even hunching over, splitting gills at their necks or concealing webbed fingers.

Many adventurers have gone missing there trying to find the reason for the dark influence. Some believe they are cannibals, or murderous cultists, set to end the world. Mostly they are simply a wretched, quiet folk who live a damp, muddy life in the shadow of a bay crawling with unseen beasts and limbless horrors.

This vile behemoth dwells in a mountain of mud and sticks, fed by human sacrifices. It has enslaved the folk here with its grotesque frogmind. Most devious of it all, it lures treasure-seekers with a vast hoard of gold and magical items retrieved from the sunken battlefields nearby.

Among these caves are ritual sites, foul altars, and the egg-lined oubliettes of fish men. Some say the only known map of Xenos is somewhere down in those caves, but what madman would even dare explore them?

It is at least feet tall, and hewn from charred oak, elm, and basalt supports. It is hot to the touch, seething with smoky fumes, and emits a dreadful dark magic. Long has it stood as sentinel, hemming in the curse of the Dead Lands. How it was built or when is unknown, for few venture there.

What is known is that the dark power that fuels the Charred Wall is focused in this forbidding structure. They tower and lean impossibly. There is no natural landscape whatsoever. All navigational, mapping or scouting rolls are HARD when daring to enter. There is a small chance that explorers could be caught in this shift, and be crushed or dropped into thin air. They have adapted to feed on YOG crystals, which can be found in the odd-shaped catacombs below the surface.

This variety is also deadly in its intelligence. They are known to call to one another, stage ambushes, and even lure prey into primitive traps. Xenos is most likely the origin of these powerful beings. They despise sunlight, and only dwell in the deepest recesses of the islands, poring over baffling inscriptions and forming incomprehensible plans to rid Urth of other species.

They maintain, patrol, repair and protect the islands with tireless mechanical precision, seemingly preparing for some far-off arrival or awakening. They are made out of the same unearthly material as the islands themselves, and blend perfectly into the weird scenery here. Bartleby is the best, maybe the boldest of these.

Part pirate, part archaeologist, he welcomes all who dare the shifting cubic shores of Xenos. The baffling, greenish landscape is more than the mortal mind can handle. It is said they are neither good nor evil, and will answer any question It is a massive statue, that speaks directly into the minds of men.

It is the only way to gain an audience with her majesty, besides walking the halls of the dead. These pearlescent, greenish stone megaliths form what remains of an Ogdru vessel called a starfarer.

When the 4th Realm was formed from the Primordius, eons before the Age of Serpents, this cosmic object formed the anchor point of Alfheim. This ineffable scale has made comprehension of their kind so elusive over the centuries.

One thing has been determined: events in the Primordius echo forever, somehow carried by vibrations or markings on the Starfarer. Some even believe the ship can be activated, or that it contains the secret to the collossa. This puzzling space is ever moving with silver rings and spiral-etched gears. At its heart, a massive array of crystal discs align and re-align, focusing beams of sunlight and radiant energy into the cosmos for purposes beyond mortal comprehension.

The buildings are beyond any human sense of scale, but within is chronicled the starfaring journey of the Xenosians and their Ogdru ancestors. Indicted in these frescoes and star maps are several far worlds, including Xevos, Tortua, and Aster.

What other secrets lie in these towering corridors and galleries? Here the ugly side of the star-fallen can be found: those poor deformed wretches who have been twisted and made hateful by the Ogdru.

They occupy these caves, brooding over plots to eat the world, or burn it, or somehow turn the starfarer against the nobler races out of pure spite. None have ever seen that place and lived to tell of it, for it guarded by constructs and machines beyond mortal imagination. Also, each day encounter 1 or more friendly local merchants. Inns and villages, meals and gar are all plentiful.

Old roads, grave sites, abandoned towns, centuries old cobble walls and landmarks dot the country. This keeps the land green and lush, but also lays a gloomy dim on all its folk.

Travelers make daily CON rolls or get the chills. Left unattended, this can lead to a fever or even pneumonia. These are tangles of eel-like serpents, each lined with barbed suckers. They move in swarms through any subterranean space, and some grow to 20 feet in length.

Contact with them can cause an infection. More of them grow in the host, eventually bursting out with ravenous momentum. Some believe they are related to the Ape Men of Ire. There are squads them still, and they prowl these lands with killing as their only agenda. Theirs is a path of a doomed people, and they see no other way but that of the arrow and the sword.

He is a community leader, and has been instrumental in the rebuilding fo Westburg after the numerous disasters there. At its helm stands Scoots Whiteflag, a dwarven sky capatin. She is a kind ruler, and works daily to route the evil that dwells below that storied city. Some of the tunnels stretch for miles in straight lines, but the main chambers house an elder wyrm. This creature seems beyond time and space, and some say it actually feeds on the timestreams, destabilizing the cosmos.

Now the asylum is there, but that is only the upper layer of a labyrinth as old as Alfheim itself. No place are the eels of Iridess more densely packed in nesting swarms than there. These act as an entrance to a vast undercroft, where the stone giant Lion Sword and his phantom warriors still growl with anger. None go there, for to awaken those titans could spell doom for the entire south coast. Though storms are rare here, when they come, travel is perilous. A failed roll can leave you lost, captured, or facing the wall.

Intruders will be taken to the great hall, to be judged by Queen Knyfe. It is patrolled at all hours, and has no gate. These structures are tough, with few windows, and highly defensible. They have a rich oral history which predates most written language, and stand for all that is best in life. These outcasts succumb to the craven spirit that has given goblin folk their evil reputation. For this, they are cast out. Some have yet to leave, and hide in the countryside laying in wait for the unwary.

No where is this feud worse than here, where high mountain ogres refuse to abandon their ancestral fortress high in the peaks. Their true clan name is Throg-Ungut, but the Thushum simply call them Snogres. They hate this. In fact, this threat is reaching critical mass, as the troublesome little buggers can now be found in almost every corner of the realm.

To make things worse, the Thumush have begun massing down there. He commands the Thushum armies, and is known to love a night of green gar, here called Verdangarst.

They are managed, and kept safe by this one-eyed human, who was raised by the Thushum from birth. They are master chefs and master drinkers.

There is more than 40 miles of wall to patrol, maintain, and repair. This work employs fully half of the Thushum people.

They only employ outsiders after years of residence. This patrol is also sleepy work, though as the wall is constantly assailed by snogres and the glory-seeking hordes of Skar. A small crew of Thushum maintain the cavern, but it has gone too deep, reaching the strange depths where crystal worms dwell.

Faced with an expedition to retrieve the YOG those worms feed on, the Thushum seek adventurers up to the deadly challenge. Not only are these spires haunted by the ghosts of the doomed, many great treasure holds have sunken there, ripe for the taking.

Win the adoration of the realm by finding, infiltrating, and destroying them all. Rumor has it, though, they have made a sinister alliance with other creatures in the deep. In the furthest, loneliest reaches, strange lights have been seen in the endless sky. The nature of these is unknown. Either way, the buttes must be circumnavigated, for their sheer walls are unclimbable in most places.

There is almost no water here. At night, the temperature drops terribly. This diversity makes Skar home to all kinds of shrewd predators, and wildly different are their kinds by day or night. Their bones still tower over those haunted lands in the moonlight, and few dare go there. There is a ceaseless, wild gale that blows here. It drives some mad, pushes men from cliff edges, or topples wagons on frigid nights. Some legends say the nomads even control some of the monsters, but mostly local folk are preyed upon as much as explorers and adventurers.

Species range from giant buzzards and eagles to lions, sabretooths, cave bears, vipers and even crocodiles. They are blood-enemies of each other, vowing to kill each other to the last child.

It is unclear if either is a force of good or evil. They know only hate. The two tribes are called Canus and Herat. Their agenda is a mystery, but they have been known to vaporize, pursue, or entrap various creatures. They still believe themselves on a holy quest. These monsters destroy all they encounter, as is their nature. On a direhorn she rides, and folk say she is guardian of all that calls this place home.

Exactly who or what she is unknown. In a series of cliff dwelling and rope-bridges dwell a group of druids. They are friend to all, and work to find a peace between the Canus and Herat They move in teams of three, with stone tools to hone and keep prefect the ancient lines. Once a year he returns to the Greenway with a catch of direhorn, plains mares, and giant ostrich.

These the folk of Nurin make mounts and breed for war steeds. Here they service their starfaring ships, develop their strange plans, and hold their countless specimens for study. It is a feared, hated place, long abandoned.

Like so many of their enclaves, though, movement has been sighted there recently, especially by night. What is the strange green glow in that black-windowed hell, and what doom lies in store if none dare its shadows? Whoever is right, the rock conceals a labyrinth of tunnels and chambers that, some say, reaches to very hollow core of Urth. Few dare its heights, for it is home to all manner of giant reptiles. Both nations tolerate this arrangement for the dire duty of that frozen shore: to hold watch on the evil island of Crask.

It is a town of soldiers, sparse accomodations, and a grim tone. Never has Crask moved without an alert from these dire watchmen, and they take a fierce pride in their charge. Along that ice-bashed shore a series of hollows is said to stretch under the channel all the way to the forbidden island.

This is unconfirmed. Much of its cold is due to altitude rather than latitude, as most of the realm is near tree line. Some snows even last through the summer, especially in the heights around Dur Moro.

Travelers here should expect a range of conditions that can be gleaned by their approximation to other kingdoms. These titans are still active, and choke the region in smog, heat and ash. Travel there is perilous and requires some form of protection from heat and toxic smoke. An entire city, almost as big as Grey, hewn form one massive outcrop of solid rock. This is the seat of dwarf culture, and was once home to King Akram in his time.

Many spend their entire lives there, and ever do evil eyes look on its splendor with envy. These are the foot-lands of Gem Glacier to the north. Travel here should be treated as if exploring Ire. This monster is 80 miles long and 1, feet tall in places. All navigation up, over or through is HARD.

Here the ancient elves rallied their greatest attack, and failed to break the lines of the Falcon King. The battlefield west of the wall is a terrible, dead place that still echoes with the din of war. No one knows how far and wide these barrows spread, but it is vast. Dwarves are not masterful ship-makers, and so they defend these great cliff walls with a series of ingenious lighthouses.

These rumors speak of a magical aspen growth somewhere down there that holds the life force of all the world in its delicate roots. Staying to these makes travel pleasant, and wandering merchants and smiths may be encountered along its length. Many wars have been fought here, and the countless fallen do not all rest. A curse lay upon the ancestral battlegrounds, and those who have died there, unless consecrated, tend to rise.

These undead are often armored soldiers, archers, or even cavalry on skeletal mounts. Every few decades, though, they dare to expand their borders. Having failed so far, they settle for terrorizing travelers and sabotaging roads. These are squid-faced spellweavers, misshapen deep delvers, and worse.

It is unknown what gives them the power to stave off the dwarves, but they have proven unkillable so far. They are all drawn south, always seeking the Amber Grove for reasons not totally understood. Regardless, there seem to be an unlimited population. They feed on shadows and form from black smoke on moonless nights. Every few years, they gather in great numbers, and all the armies of Alfheim must unite to drive them back. She lures travelers with a bounty of coins, but these coins are the souls of men, and come with a terrible price.

Despite this grim truth, she has been known to aid the greatest kings and lowest slaves, and her exact purpose and agenda remain a mystery. Boot has the strange distinction of being half deep delver, and so has become a bridge between the peoples of the above and below. This has made Duradin mighty, but some dissent exists on both sides, believing there can never be such a peace.

They bend the knee to no one, and answer only to Thoor himself. Their leader is Gilga, a blonde-braided dwarf woman that stands as a folk hero for all the people of the east. Their leader is called Hugh. He is considered a traitor to his kind, but has proven his heroic worth to both sides over the years.

It is a vast place of blocky tunnels, forgotten crypts and towering halls. Here are stored great dwarvish artifacts, burials of ancestral kings, and forbidden places where serpent men pry at the world of the living. Here, a god-forge rests, and is the only way to create weapons and armor as powerful as Angrid the Lawgiver.

This is an insufferable affront to Dwarves. Ever do they seek to reclaim the cathedral, but the ant men have fought them back so far. This temple exists in a sort of tear between times and places, vibrating between the stars forever. Its location changes each solstice, and no one has ever explored its wonders and lived to tell of it. Every 1, years, a sickness comes on this grove of aspens, and shadow wolves spread out across the land. If the grove is not tended, and cleansed, it could spell the doom of all.

Some are nomadic, some dwelling in stone fortresses or timber garrisons. They unify only in groups of 50 to , and their feuds go back centuries. Only Manac has held them at bay. Though defeated, the echoes of those duplicates still wander the wastes here, and are as dangerous as the original Dark Lord. These are called Hydranax, Suros, and Garudan. Each seems to have its own agenda, but none abide the presence of lesser creatures who do not serve as slaves or devotees.

Time itself vibrates and even tears in places. When unto these tears lead is never certain. They have been allowed to reproduce unchecked, and in places they swarm so thick they have turned to eat one another. Woe unto any traveler who encounters such a horror, for they are ravenous. He has been known to aid heroes and wanderers, but he is also a bit mad. His mind has become a tangle of timelines and dimensions, but he still makes a fine mint tea.

This alliance of dwarves and men hold fast against the orcs and ghosts of Olo. To do so, they keep a 24 hour vigil. Many believe it is only a matter of time before the drakes destroy them. They can be flagged down to aid any traveler. They are stout, selfless warriors sworn to a life of service in this forbidding place. Encounter at any one time. A solitary dwarven shieldmaiden with a zest for life and a talent for survival. The location of her cabin is unknown, but those who have met her tell tall tales of her hospitality, heroism, and incredible bravery.

A terrible storm of traps and wonders await those heroes who finally crack its doors. Here also, according to legend, is the frigid orrery of those mighty beasts. What fool would dare such a place? Kazgat has recorded a brilliant gleam of crystal caverns below that place, but it remains unexplored. Its depths are frozen solid, and, some say, home to a forgotten race of frost giants from another world. These are simply rumors. To even verify the story would require a 2 mile descent down sheer ice walls into the darkness.

Is it an evil stronghold? A last bastion of good? A dimensional fold or climatic anomaly? All doors are open. Is it natural or the work of mortals? Dream outside the norm, and dare heroes to unravel the truth someday. Those who go here should dread encountering these beasts, and expect them to leap out at every corner.

No problem. This thing however, could destroy an entire party. This is a giant thing, an invisible thing, or an evil army. Escalate the danger 10 fold with this danger, but make it less likely to appear. A tribe of warriors? A sect of evil cannibals? A brotherhood of witch-hunters?

Again, use these people to reinforce the underlying feeling, story, or theme of the location as a whole. Imagine a calamity that would occur here: a frozen tidal surge?

Eruptions of scalding steam? Poison fog from deep space? Not only is it still unknown, it is deadly. This dares your heroes to find the truth without being destroyed by it. They can serve as merchants, combat relief, shelter, or story motivators. How can you help them? Picture one person in your region who holds such an important task.

These are the best of us, and stay happy and cheerful even in dark times. A simple name is all you need. Get this single word in your head, then start inventing descriptive tidbits that reinforce that word. Examples could be words like frozen, dark, unstable, overgrown, ancient, or inhuman.

Some force has created a great hollow, and wonders await deep within. Heroes dare these halls to confront the vile presence. Count on it. They guard treasures, terrify innocents, or must simply be destroyed. When building such a place, employ curving tunnels, jagged cavities, and bone-strewn shadows. We were marooned in the vapor, two more ghosts to drift through The Wake.

The entire universe is at your disposal! A trek across the ice, a race in hypercars, a gunfight in the jungle Solve this by allowing massive travel through space and time, but each peril or mission the players face is very tight or small scale. A WARP and comprehensible.

SHELL crew has the details covered, they have bigger matters to attend to. No planetary war? Three encounters, a twist in the middle, and working to disable a specific doomsday weapon.

Plana big cataclysmic end works every time. With more details, I may be able to help find some references to these creatures whose remains you have found in the academic library, and learn more about them and the history of those structures in which you found them.

As to this substance, I would likely need some time to safely determine the nature of it, so believe I would need to have some of the sample left in my care for longer than your visit.

I could send word to you after your return to the estuary area with my results when those studies have completed. Do let me know your plans and I will have one of my assistants make hospitable arrangements for you and your friend Glizzard at the University so we can discuss these matters of interest.

Letters are forwarded to me with only minor delay as needed if they cannot be responded to on my behalf, so feel at liberty to discuss any specifics even if I am currently traveling.

Have you been at your art whilst traveling or, I hope, at least gathering inspiration for the same? The real treasures of travel are rarely only mementos one can carry, are they? Perhaps when you visit we can all find a way to play a round here, and perhaps introduce something new to entertain the faculty and students between their studies.

By the by, I have a colleague who has an interest in fungus, and I wonder about what grows where you are currently exploring. I understand that this is exactly the season my colleague would have staged a trip to gather scientific samples, during a traditionally abundant harvesting period, but was unable to do so.

Perhaps you would be willing and able help? You should look to find a variety of the unique local fungus growths from your area. However, I must convey a warning that some growths may be, as one says, aware of you if you approach them. There are in some locales living species who also are able to communicate your presence to others of their own kind and allies, and some locales have even more rare species which may also pose a danger to you.

So I find I must caution you to be wary of complex fungus structures that appear to have been designed to a purpose, which may indicate the presence of these more rare and dangerous species. Do consider gathering what unique samples you are safely able, placing them individually in glass jars for transport. Any other details you observe will be of interest, to be sure.

I have included under separate cover some brief discussion of proper sampling techniques and methods of recording observations usefully which you may find helpful. I know that my colleague will be quite excited to receive those to assuage the disappointment of not being able themselves to engage in gathering this season.