Chapter 1: The Adventure Begins

After a long day on the road, you crest a hill and see the lights of a town. According to maps and helpful locals you’ve consulted, this must be Langston. Though the last blush of sunset still colors the sky to the west, lamplight is already visible at the gate and in the streets.

In the dim twilight, you can clearly see that the dirt road you’ve been traveling transitions to cobblestones, and a simple stone wall rings the town. Even from this distance, you can see the timber-framed walls of the buildings in town are well-maintained with fresh whitewash that glow golden in the lamplight. It’s a beautiful little town, a prosperous trading hub nestled among the fertile farmland and old-growth forest you’ve spent the last few days traversing.

The stars are just starting to emerge as the lone howl of a wolf splits the silence off somewhere in the woods. A chorus of responding howls take up the call, some uncomfortably close. And getting closer.

You pick up your pace to put more distance between you and the wilderness in the hope of a soft bed, a hot meal, and some work for an enterprising adventurer. A town as prosperous as Langston looks like a place to do good, earn coin, and achieve glory. Maybe all three at once, so long as you aren’t eaten by wolves between here and there.

Roll a Wisdom (Perception) check. If you get 10 or more, go to 23. If you get less than 10, go to 11.

Surina Perception: 4 Go to 11

You continue down the road, a growing sense of dread in the pit of your stomach. Looking around you, you see nothing in the trees or undergrowth on either side of the road even though you feel like you should.

You stop walking, pausing to listen to the dark woods around you. Without the sound of your footsteps, you can now hear a low rumbling growl and excited panting coming from around you.

All around you.

A large but scruffy wolf pads into the road in front of you, moonlight shining in its gray fur. Half a dozen more of the beasts step into view, sizing you up. You’re surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves. Your odds aren’t good, but at least you can go down fighting (go to 33).

You square up to defend yourself as the pack of hungry wolves starts to circle, looking for an opening to attack. There are at least ten of them, and something tells you more are waiting in the darkness of the tree.

It looks like an early end to your adventuring career, but you’re determined not to give up without a fight. You’re just about to unleash your attack and go down fighting when you hear a bellow behind you on the road.

You turn around to see a bald dwarf dressed in rough-spun clothes and animal hides pointing at you from on top of a rise in the road. Or maybe past you. Moonlight shines off the skin of his head; his face is lit by small balls of fire dancing in the air over his outstretched palms.

“Oh no you don’t!” he yells, the flames flaring with his emotions. “Get back, you lot!”

The wolves immediately tuck their tails between their legs and lay their ears down flat. The apparent leader looks at you and whines.

“Not a chance,” the dwarf scoffs. “Go on now.”

The wolves slink quietly back into the woods, and you realize you are still poised to attack. The dwarf doesn’t seem to notice as he approaches. He eyes you up and down, the silence between you stretches.

Until it breaks with a massive sneeze.

“Sorry. You all right?” he asks with a lopsided smile and a sniffle. “Didn’t have a chance to get a piece off you, did they?” You let him know that you’re all in one piece and thank him for his intervention.

Go to 4.

“Well then, lucky for you I was here,” he says with a wide grin and a slap on the back hard enough to throw off your balance. He opens his mouth to speak again but nothing comes out until he unleashes a sneeze that makes his beard bristle. You wait for him to regain his composure.

“You must be hungry then. Go straight down this road and you’ll reach the town of Langston. Find The Pickled Hen and if anyone asks, tell them Roi Sunderhammer sent you.”

You stammer out a thank you despite the adrenaline coursing through you.

“Think nothing of it. I’m on my way there myself. Funeral you see, doing my druidic duty to the circle of life and all that.” He guffaws as if he just told a joke. “But before I do that, I’m going to have a bit of a chat with these naughty pups. They should know better.”

Before you have a chance to respond, the dwarf lopes off toward the woods with a surprisingly graceful gait given his stocky build.

Between the darkness and another night on the road or a hot meal and a soft mattress, it’s hardly even a decision to head towards the lights of Langston.

Go to 1.

Your hopes for a meal and friendly conversation are dashed with what you find in the marketplace. More specifically, you’re disappointed with what you don’t find.

It's empty, filled only with a mournful hush. Street vendors are closed, windows are shuttered. Lamplighters have still passed through to fill the square with warm pools of light, but everything feels muted under the weight of an oppressive sadness.

You’re looking around for someone - anyone - when a solitary figure in a white robe bustles out from a side street, nearly dropping a sheaf of papers. The robe’s hood is down, so you can see that it’s a young human woman with light blond hair. Her robes bear sunburst motifs around the neck and collar and a similar symbol made of gold hangs from around her neck. This appears to be a sun cleric.

Call out to the cleric (go to 27) or follow her down the empty streets (go to 3).

The cleric jolts and turns and you see a moment of fear as her hand reflexively snaps to her holy symbol. She looks either way down empty streets before breaking out in a wide, kind smile as she approaches.

“Hello, and welcome,” she says, her voice high and bright. “Can I help you with something, traveler?”

You ask her where she's going in such a hurry.

“I am on my way to perform a young woman’s last rites,” she says, her kind smile still fixed to her lips. “Such a sad day.” You ask if she is on her way to The Pickled Hen. “I am,” she says with growing uncertainty. “Did you… you know the deceased?”

You say that you do not, but someone named Roi suggested you go to The Pickled Hen for lodging.

“Ah, of course,” she says with a sigh. “A truly good dwarf, Roi. The funeral will be starting soon and I must be on my way. But I can show you the way if you’d like.”

She walks beside you in silence, occasionally consulting the sheets in her hand and reading it to herself. After a few moments of awkwardly accompanying the young cleric, she shows you to an inn whose sign says it’s The Pickled Hen.

The cleric absentmindedly opens the door and steps into the tavern at the ground floor. Having clearly forgotten you’re even there, she closes it behind her.

Go into the tavern (go to 34) or look into the tavern through the window (go to 19).

You find a window to peer into and see a packed room. It’s almost impossible to guess how many people are inside, but it’s at least a hundred. People seem to be speaking quietly to one another, though everyone seems to have a drink in their hand.

"You a prowler?" asks a timid voice. You spin on a young barmaid who seems to be throwing away some food scraps. She jumps more than you did as fear pinches her face..

You answer that you're a traveler and an adventurer.

"Then you should probably go in,” she says with a small smile. “The mayor'll want a word with you after the service. And the folks of Langston are a nice bunch, even in the face of so much grief. In life, Maybelline was the nicest person you’d ever meet. She’d want everyone welcome at her funeral. Come on in."

You follow the barmaid into the tavern (go to 34).