Intros

The sound of rolling wheels, the clap of hooves, and chainmail chiming sang aloud like praises to Fharlanghn, the god of travel. Here in the center of the civilized realms, on the western continent, trade and peace flourished under the warm sun and soft wind. This early summer day was abuzz with movement as merchant caravans and travelers made their way up and down this beaten path between Hommlet and Vorbobonc. The whistles of both bird and man filled gaps in between the occasional exchanges and greetings of each passerby. One such group was a caravan laden with goods due beyond Hommlet, but would stop there nonetheless.

Amid these merchants were hired guard, five of which belonged to an adventuring company along for the ride to tranquil Hommlet. In exchange for their protection the party was provided with transportation, shelter, and nourishment along the way. But most importantly: information. For anyone whom has lived in or around Hommlet, its rich history is well renown for its supernatural disasters, momentous war, and heroic adventurers. The lead driver and aspiring bard, Wilhelm, was eager to tell the tale.

A few hours passed as they ambled by farmlands into the budding city. Wilhelm gave them a map of Hommlet and thorough directions to the Inn of the Welcome Wench –in good heart and self-interest, having planned on playing there that night. The caravan train stopped just outside of town, people leaping off even before it began to circle around. The staff went to work propping up tents and tables for selling excess merchandise in today’s market. Messengers rode into town to spread word of their arrival and arrange the necessary prepping.

The party was left to their devices as their services were no longer needed. The entirety of Hommlet and its surroundings open to them.