In the Flanaess, Autumn draws nigh, a sudden and unwanted reminder of the long, cold death of winter to come.
You’re passing through Hochoch, a dull, lifeless city at the rainy borderlands between Geoff and Gran March, to briefly stop, rest and resupply before you move on.
There, you find the normally-tedious city gripped in the thrall of one fearful topic. It seemed all men there, from merchant prince to lowly barkeep, have become skittish, gossiping washerwomen; their nervous lips abuzz with anxious, whispered rumors of strange tales about a village called Briarsgate, to the east, beyond the Dim Forest.
“Sinister and mysterious evil is at work in Briarsgate. The village itself is somehow being altered.”
These dread rumors were already well known by some of you. You had all entered Hochoch on a different road, unknowingly sharing the same final destination:
- The Grey Mouser was passing through Hochoch because his mysterious patron, Sheelba of the Eyeless Face, sent him to investigate the rumors of Briarsgate. Sheelba bribed him with magic potions to use on this mission. “These, I won’t need back.” Perhaps sensing the Mouser’s displeasure at yet another errand, Sheelba added: “A prosperous village has fallen into crisis. Some wealth will be knocked loose, ready to be picked up by the sharp-eyed, industrious opportunist who finds himself in the right place.”
Grothnak Uthglukh came to Hochoch looking for honorable sword work and adventure. Boy, did he get a bum steer. Realizing his mistake, he was now considering moving on home to the half-orc ghetto slums of Hillhook for a while. Or perhaps to more likely lands for a warrior such as he… This Briarsgate seemed like a town in need of help.
Hoom Feethos ventured to Hochoch to find a jeweler named Praetorius whom his father had once known, to ask him about the mysterious silver key. Hoom failed to find him, but picked up a lead on his whereabouts from a merchant who knew the man he sought. Through the center of his fat pale jowls, Rundicant the Plump said, “Praetorius 'ad gone to Briarsgate, poor devil! Just before all the troubles started!”
Ingrid Esthof and Elden Vodarte had come to Hochoch from Geoff, where, after Vodarte had safely settled his family, they had met and hunted fell creatures together. Moving upstream on the rumor-heavy caravan trail, they were slowly closing in on Briarsgate, the latest destination in their solemn quest against the dark hand of supernatural evil that plagued this dire world.
Long Bo had journeyed to Hochoch from Oyt Wood, at the behest of the old, blind, wise Druid, Elakim the Seer who had requested that Bo venture out into the world of men to track these dark tales to their origin. “I don’t like the look of it. It appears something unnatural threatens the balance. You must peer into it, and if necessary, see to it that the natural order is restored, my son.”
Inside the inn, you sup and drink in the chill public room that also holds the barkeeper, the serving wench and seven others that appear to be wandering adventurers or tramps, like yourselves. The hour grows late and the hearth embers die. Outside the inn, the good people of Hochoch are already tucked into their beds, safe against the rain, the cold and other things that weigh fretfully upon their restless brows.
The 'keeper tolls the bell and his fearful voice trembles, “Last call. Any final wishes?”