In the beginning...

The four adventurers sauntered down the road, weapons sheathed but intimidating, enjoying the early morning sunshine in a perpetual state of readiness. The leisurely breakfast they'd eaten that morning was still settling in their stomach, and the moved slowly, knowing that they would be in Winterhaven by mid-afternoon. Douvan Stahl, their mutual friend, would have a beer and a dinner waiting for them, despite the surprise of their visit; of that there was no doubt. The journey from Cayo Hueso had been easy, and a good chance for the four adventurers to get to know one another.

They had gathered in Cayo Hueso, at a tavern called the Lion's Honor. After a hefty bout of drinking, Geldon, a halfling rogue from Tsroth Terat, and Angus, the human wizard descended from a King of the Western Lands, began to talk, and discovered that they were both traveling Winterhaven in search of Douvan Stahl, a mutual mentor and friend. For several days, they had prepared for their journey, getting directions, gathering supplies, drinking, and wenching. Azareth, Geldon's half-elven cleric of a companion, had two pour the raucous and belligerent pair into bed more than once.

On the trios last night in Cayo Hueso, they met Bergeron, a dragonborn paladine from one of the northern tribes. He was also traveling to Winterhaven in search of Douvan, who had traveled to Bergeron's tribal lands to explore one of the ancient ruins there. A Dragonborn Paladine can prevent many fights simply by hulking, and so was invited to come along.

As they chatted on the path, swapping stories about Douvan, and exaggerated tales of battle prowess, Geldon, whose halfing eyesight was quite keen, stopped an pointed down the road.

"Look, everyone!" he shouted, speaking so that even those to simple words seemed to blend together. "There's someone coming. A woman, I think, with a basket full of flowers."

"Is she pretty?" Azareth answered. Despite his vow of chastity, he was always interested in knowing what women looked like.

"She's a little tall..." Geldon replied, which was his standard description of human females.

"Let's talk to her and see if she knows anything about Douvan," said Angus. "You talk to her, Azareth. She won't be afraid of a cleric.

Bergeron allowed himself to the back of the group.

As the young woman approached, her steps faltered and slowed, but didn't stop. The adventurers could feel her apprehensiveness, though she had a smile plastered on her pretty face.

"Good morn to you, travelers! Where are you bound?"

"We are traveling on our way to Winterhaven," Azareth said, holding his hands out to his sides and stepping in front of his companions. He smiled warmly. "Are you familiar with the village?"

"Oh, but of course, good Sir! I have lived in its shadow my entire life. My grandmother and I live not a mile from the walls. Though we don't often have visitors as well armed as yourselves." She stared at the hulking dragonborn, and the massive sword that hung from his side.

"And what is your name, child?" Azareth asked.

"Esmyrelda, my Lord."

Angus stepped forward. "Oh no, my dear, there are no Lords here. We are simple travelers, looking to see the world. And you don't have to worry about our arms. These are for protection alone, either for ourselves, or those weaker than us who need assistance."

"What do you have all of those flowers for?" Geldon asked, scurrying forward to peer into the basket.

Esmyrelda, startled by the halfling's approach, took a step backward. "These are for my grandmother. She makes healing potions and salves out of them, but she's too old to go hunting through the forest these days. She taught me years ago what to look for. I enjoy the walk in the woods. It's a time to clear my head."

Azareth put his hand on Geldon's shoulder, whose hands were starting to itch to touch the flowers, and pulled him back away from the lady. "Aren't you ever afraid to wander through the woods alone?"

Esmyrelda shrugged. "Well I don't like to come out alone at night. And there have been rumors of people being attacked or killed by goblins or kobolds or something, but I haven't seen anything around or been bothered by anything."

"Kobolds and goblins?" Bergeron asked, stepping forward. "Where are they coming from?"

Esmyrelda dropped the basket and stepped backwards.

"Apologies, lady," Bergeron said. "I know my appearance frightens humans. I assure you, I mean you no harm. My Goddess will not allow me to hurt one as small and defenseless as you."

Esmyrelda forced a laugh. "No, I am the one to apologize. I've just never seen anything like you before. And to answer your question, the kobolds and goblins have always had some sort of presence in the area. I've been hearing stories of them for my whole life. But lately, it seems like they have become bolder. Lord Padraig, the mayor of the town, has been trying to raise an army to go fight them, but we're just simple farm-people, not warriors like yourselves."

Silence fell for several moments as the adventurers thought about this last statement. Emyrelda knelt to pick up her flowers; Geldon leapt forward to help her before Azareth could stop him.

"What of a man named Douvan Stahl?" Angus asked after a few moments. "Do you know him?"

"Oh, sure, everyone knows Douvan! He's been here for about a year now. Crazy man, he stays at the inn and everyday to study the ruins of Shadowfell keep. He even goes up there at night! It's a miracle nothing has happened to him yet."

"Why's that?" Geldon asked.

She looked at them each. "Haven't you heard of the haunted Shadowfell Keep?"

They all shook their heads.

She took a step forward and dropped her voice to a whisper. "Well, legend has it that decades ago, Sir Keegan, the Lord of the Keep, went crazy. He killed his entire family, and then started slaughtering soldiers in the garrison. He was such a mighty warrior that he killed many of them before they were band together a stop him. The keep was abandoned, but his spirit, and the spirits of his victims, still roam the keep, looking for more victims to take." She shuddered. "You can hear them screaming in the village, some nights, if the air is clear enough."

"Have you ever been there?" Geldon asked.

She shuddered. "Of course not. And I never will. No one from the village does. Douvan is a strange one, and he's going to regret his bravery someday."