Our heroes are afloat at sea in the midst of a great fog bank having just escaped from the Island domain of Markovia. The howls and screams of Broken Ones linger in the minds of the party as they try and see anything at all through the deep and dark pea soup fog.
The fog parts slightly and a shoreline can be seen to the "east", it certainly is not Markovia, no jungle, the weather is not tropical, some rocks on the shore with forest in the background. Our heroes make for the shore where they step out on land, glad to be off the briny sea again. Summergale travels inland and when she returns Seglun garners that there is a road going parallel to the shoreline just inland. There are farms in the distance, rolling hills and bogs. The group moves inland and heads to the "south" along the road. "We should stop at a farm and ask directions" pipes up Ralom, then he looks around and decides maybe Varrid should be the one to knock on the door. At the sight of a close country house, Varrid goes to the door and knocks. A face peers out of a window to see who might be at the door. Shortly the door opens "An 'ow may I 'elp you" asks a middle aged woman in a deep brogue. "We are just wondering where we might happen to be" asked Varrid.
"This is Mordent", comes the reply in a terse manner. "Are there any towns around?" queried Varrid. "Surely, Mordentshire is just down the road. You should hurry though you don't want to be out after dark." This piqued Varrid's interest, "Why not?"
"The 'ounds are out at night, you don't want to be caught by them 'ounds" replied the woman. Varrid thanked her and headed back to the group. They watched a face at the window, keeping tabs on them as they group headed south again. Passing through forest, hills, moors and downs at just around sundown, dozens of yards ahead, past the flanking farmlands they saw the lights of a town gleaming through the twilight. Sounds of waves crashing on a rocky shoreline were echoing through the air. The folk of the town seemed to be all fishers, farmers, or the spouses of those who toil on land or sea. The folk would give the group a glace, do a quick double take but return to their chores. None of the town folk stopped to ask the heroes why they were in town, the locals seemed intent on getting home. Ralom asked one local if there was an inn close by. He pointed them to the Beached Mermaid that usually welcomed adventuring types, it is down by the harbor.
Arriving at the harbor, fishing boats being pulled ashore, they found the inn. Inside there was an island of warmth amid the autumn breezes blowing off the sea. The interior was dressed with mahogany and brass, the whole bar had a nautical decor. A roaring blaze in the fireplace dispelled the chill of the early evening. The dozen or so patrons were, for the most part, grizzled sea-faring types. They glanced up briefly as the heroes entered, then turned back to their business immediately.
A white haired bushy-bearded bear of a man presently greeted the group, "names Captain Garrett Nancy, The Captain, I prefer. Welcome to the Beached Mermaid, will ya have a beer?"
Baru grabbed a nearby table as Arvien ordered beers for them all. The Captain brought the beers and asked if the group had any news. They told of being on the island of Markovia, which The Captain recognized, but knew little about. Ralom asked if The Captain knew of Corentyn but he hadn't heard of that town. The Captain was very interested in the adventure of the group, "I used to adventure myself but know I just run this here inn." "A night's lodging is 5sp and supper costs 1 gp," The Captain relates as he brings another round, "This one is on the house."
Other patrons come and go leaving 3 or 4 others as The Captain closes and bars the door. "The night ain't safe" he relates with a wan smile.
When he returns to the table Drovic asks about the dangers of the night.
"Mayhap, barring a door at night seems a bit queer to you. Let me tell you why I do it.
"Here in Mordentshire the night is full of strange things. The house on Gryphon Hill... well, thats only one of the places that's said to be haunted. Still, as they say around here, if you don't bother evil, it won't bother you. Bur all that's begun to change recently, Do you hear that howling?"
Above the moan of the wind, there was the sound of dogs baying, The sound is faint, but sends shivers along the spine of every hero.
"Aye, those hounds prowl the countryside at night in Mordentshire. They haven't worked up the gumption to come down into the town, but they've been harrying the outlying farms, killing those who wander abroad in the night and making everyone afraid to travel after sunset. The strange thing is that they never come out during the day -- nobody's ever seen one in the sunlight.
"What this town needs is someone to get rid of those dogs. Everyone here would gladly reach into their purses to raise the money for bounty hunters to get rid of those beasts.
"Now you ... you seem more daring than the rest of the folks hereabout; better suited for danger, if I read you aright. You interested?"
Grunyar asked if the hounds seemed to be undead. But The Captain did not believe they were. Seglun wanted to know if the attacked livestock. The Captain answered in the affirmative, "Several sheep and cattle have had their throats ripped open." The few townsfolk left in the bar passed a hat for a collection, and approached the heroes with 100 gp. "This is yours if you can rid us of the 'ounds."
When the party did not seem interested The Captain said that he could ask the mayor if the town council could sweeten the pot. Varrid agreed that he should query the Mayor while Arvien asked about the local investigation. "Sheriff McAndrew is leading any work in that area, mayhap you should see him on the 'morrow."
The group finally decides to head for a night of sleep, taking two rooms, and setting a minimal guard. The night's rest is fitful as their dreams are plagued by an enormous black Mastiff, a dog larger and fiercer than any they have ever seen. During the night a thick fog rolled in off the ocean, pressing against the windows of the inn as if eager to enter. The embers of last night's fire still warn the empty common room as the group comes down to a splendid breakfast spread.
Just as the heroes finish eating their fill, a boy bursts in the inn's door. Panting and out of breath, he shouts, "Shepherd Dawson's been killed!"
Close on the lads heels the Sheriff and some of his deputies arrive. A crowd begins to gather outside. The Sheriff eyes the adventurers and the innkeeper, and declares, "The Mayor has authorized me to deputize all the able-bodies folk of the village to put an end to these 'ounds. We're going to search out these dogs' lair. They've killed one of the shepherds, and he'll be the last to die if I have any say in the matter!"
The Sheriff, the deputies, the adventurers and a group of townsfolk head out of town to the northeast. The Sheriff invites the heroes to walk with him as they head out. He is amiable, though clearly upset about the killings.
DM's Notes: The party earned 2500 XP for the night and now have 5500 XP requiring 2000 more to reach 3rd level.
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