CHAPTER 1: The Tainted Village of Hommlet

PLEASE NOTE:
Please use normal text for actions etc, BOLD for all IC (In Character/In Game) communication. RED for all non-verbal/vocalized communication and GREEN for other forms of communication. Use

OOC:

OOC

for all OOC (Out Of Character) communication - GM communication, questions to other players etc.

EXAMPLE:
Overhead torches shine down on the card table; peering around the room, you are barely able to see the backs of the cards of the other players. A modest pile of coins and gems sit in the middle of the table.

I look at my cards; with the cards on the table, I think I have a pretty good hand. I roll a gem into the middle of the table and say "Call."

OOC:

I get ready for a fight.

At that moment a flashing light in the corner of your vision alerts you to a growly voice. The merest thought brings the humanoid into view; there was no way you would be able to concentrate on the rest of the game knowing that someone wanted to butt in on the game. As the player on your left folds, the voice in your head whispers:
"Fold young one! You aren't going to win this round!"

Distracted from the game now, you tap out of the game by quickly folding. "Where are you?"
In the meantime the shadowed figure opposite raises. The only other player in the game folds. It's down to the nerd and the tough. A good pair maybe, but what did the other guy have? At the moment all he had was a wide grin, but that wasn’t anything new. The man always smiled.

The nerd says, "Call. Show ’em."

A flush. Typical.

I stand up from the table. I tell him "It’s all yours." On the way out of the bar I grab my cloak and hat from the hook next to the door and step out into bright daylight.

The sun glares down and reflected off last night’s snow, broken and brown where the bar patrons had stumbled in and out, but clean and white otherwise. You take a second to deeply inhale the mountain air. Before you can exhale, a voice snaps you out of your moment of peace.

"You get half!"

"Might be that I will. Who’s giving?"

"Uh, you don’t need to know, but we need to get to the Temple by midnight. Can you do that?"

"Meet me at the corner of the road in twenty minutes."

That would give you time to check him out before traveling with him. Amateurs were usually trouble. It was time to make a few inquiries.

PLAYERS BACKGROUND
The village of Hommlet - or merely "Hommlet" as it is commonly called - is situated in the central part of Flanaess, that portion of western Oerik Continent which is known and 'civilized'. There are rumors afoot that the peaceful, hamlet-sized village has become a little tainted. It is located some 30 leagues south-east of the town of Verbonc, or thereabouts, on the fringe of the territory controlled by the noble Lord of the Viscount of Verbonc. It is at a crossroads in more ways than one.

To the north is the mighty Velverdyva River along whose south bank runs the Low Road. Of late a great deal of pilfering has been happening along this road, making it unsafe for nearly all but the most well-protected traveling parties. It is said that merchants have taken to paying well for the privilege of having their merchandise arrive safely at its destination. Many days' travel to the east, on the shores of the Unknown Depths (Nyr Dyv), is the great walled city of Dyvers. The village of Sobanwych lies about halfway along the route. Below that to the southeast and east are miles and miles of forest (the Gnarley). This forest has become increasingly darker and foreboding. It is fiercely protected by whatever lurks within. Those that enter are never seen again. Beyond lies the Wild Coast, Wooly Bay and the Sea of Gearnat. The road south forks a league or so beyond the little community, one branch meandering off towards the Wild Coast, the other rolling through the lower Kron Hills to the village of Ostverk and then eventually turning southwards again into the elven kingdom of Celene. The Kron Hills has seen the unwelcome return of packs of Dire Wolves with their nasty goblin riders in tow, raiding whatever turns up in the hills. As quick as they strike, they are gone again and have yet to be traced. This has given over to rumor. Has the Goblin Lord returned, dead this long now? Further on the western route leads into the very heart of the gnomish highlands passing through Greenway Valley about a day's travel distant and going onwards to the Lortmil Mountains far beyond.

Hommlet grew from a farm or two, a rest house and a smithy. The roads brought a sufficient number of travelers and merchant wagons to attract tradesman and artisans alike to serve those passing through. The rest house became a thriving inn, and a wheel and wainwright settled in the throp. More farmers and herdsmen followed, for grain was needed for passing animals, and meat was in demand for the innfolk.

Prosperity was great, for the lord of the district was mild and taxed but little. Trade was good, and the land was untroubled by war, outlaws, or ravaging beasts. The area was free, beautiful and bountiful - too much so, in the eyes of some.

Whether the evil came west from Dyvers (as is claimed by one faction) or crept up out of the forestlands bordering the Wild Coast (as others say), come it did and here it lingers. At first, it was only a few thieves and an odd group of bandits molesting the merchant caravans. Then came small bands of humanoids - kobolds or goblins - raiding flocks and herds. Local militia and foresters of the Waldgraf of Osteverk apparently checked but did not stop, the spread of outlawry and evil.

A collection of hovels and their slovenly inhabitants formed the nucleus for the troubles which were to increase. A wicked cleric established a small chapel at this point. The folk of Hommlet tended to ignore this place, Nulb, even though it was but 6 miles distant. But it's out of the way position was ideal for the fell purposes planned for this settlement, as was its position on a small river flowing into the Velverdyva. The thickets and marshes around Nulb became the lair and hiding place for bandits, brigands, and all sorts of evil men and monsters alike. The chapel grew into a stone temple as it's faithful brought in their ill-gotten tithes. Good folk were robbed, enslaved and worse.

In but three short years, a grim and forbidding fortress surrounded the evil place, and swarms of creatures worshipped and worked their wickedness therein. The servants of the Temple of Elemental Evil made Hommlet and the lands for leagues around a mockery of freedom and beauty. Commerce ceased, crops withered, pestilence was abroad.

But the leaders of the disease were full of hubris and, in their overbearing pride, sought to overthrow the good realms to the North, who were coming to the rescue of the land being crushed under the tyranny wrought by the evil temple. A great battle was fought.

When the good people of Hommlet saw streams of ochre-robed men and humanoids fleeing south and west through their community, there was great rejoicing, for they knew that the murderous oppressors had been defeated and driven from the field in panic and rout. So great was the slaughter, so complete the victory of good, that the walled stronghold of the Temple of Elemental Evil fell within a fortnight, despite the aid of a terrible demon. The place was ruined and sealed against a further return of such abominations by powerful blessings and magic.

Life in Hommlet quickly returned to a semblance of its former self, before the rise of the temple. For five years afterward, the village and the surrounding countryside have become richer and more prosperous than ever before. A monstrous troll which plagued the place for a time was hunted down by a party of passing adventurers. Carrying the ashes and a goodly fortune as well, the adventurers returned to the village. Before going elsewhere to seek their fortunes, the adventurers also returned a portion of the villagers' losses. Other adventurers, knowing of the evil that had once resided in the area, came to seek out similar caches, and several did find remote lairs and wealth - just as some never returned at all.

After a time, adventurers stopped coming to the area. It seemed that no monsters were left to slay, and no evil existed here to be stamped out. The villagers heaved a sigh - some pained at the loss of income, but others relieved by the return of the quiet, normal life - and Hommlet continued its quiet existence for four years more.

But then, a year ago, the bandits began to ride the roads again - not frequently, but to some effect. To the good folk of Hommlet, this seemed all too familiar, so they sent word to the Viscount that wicked forces might still lurk thereabouts. This information has been spread throughout the countryside, and the news has attracted outsiders to the village once again. Who and what these men are, no one can be quite sure. All claim to be bent on slaying monsters and bringing peace and security to Hommlet; but deeds speak more loudly than words, and lies cloak the true purposes of the maleovent.

PLAYERS' DESCRIPTION
Your party is now approaching the Village of Hommlet, having ridden up from lands of the Wild Coast. You are poorly mounted, badly equipped, and have no large sums of cash. In fact, all you have is what you wear and what you ride, plus the few coins that are hidden in purses and pockets. What you do possess in quantity, though, is daring and desire to become wealthy and famous. Thus your group comes to Hommlet to learn. Is this indeed a place for adventurers to seek their fortunes? You all hope, of course, to gain riches and make names for yourselves. The outcome of this is uncertain, but your skill and daring, along with a good measure of luck, will be the main ingredients of what follows, be it for weal or woe.

The small community at the crossroads is a completely unknown quantity. What is there? Who will be encountered? Where should you go? These are your first explorations and encounters, so chance may dictate as much as intelligence. Will outsiders be shunned? Are the reports true - is the whole community engaged in evil practices? Are the folk here bumpkins, easily duped? Does a curse lay upon those who dare to venture into the lands which were once the Temples? All of these questions will soon be answered.

The dusty, rutted road is lined with closely-grown hedges of brambles and shrubs. Here and there it cuts through a copse or crosses a rivulet. To either hand, forest and meadow have given way to field and orchard. A small herd of kine grazes nearby, and a distant hill is dotted with the wand stone chimneys with thin plumes of blue smoke rising from them. A road angles west into the hill country, and to either side of the road ahead are barns and buildings - Hommlet at last!

The adventure begins ...

You find yourselves at a fork in the road. There is a road to your left that continues on or a road that heads straight ahead of you.

On the left-hand side (1), a little way up the road that turns to the left, you see a wood and plaster house that is well-kept, and the barn beyond is bulging with hay, grain, and so forth. Several fat animals are about Two large farm dogs bark at your approach, and a rosy-cheeked goodwife appears at the doorway.

Up the road that continues on straight ahead, there is a modest farmhouse and barn (4) to the right of the road a little way up. It is clean but slightly run-down buildings indicate that this farm is not very prosperous. However, the stock appears quite healthy and plump. An active lad of about 12 or so is doing chores. Nothing appears of particular interest.

HOMMLET 1...

You see the Halfling walking down the road towards the farm cottage and barn on the road to the left. The large goodwife waves out to him and says something.

Brocken had been quiet as they approached the village. He had been deep in thought. Perhaps this adventure would be the one that would shower him with glory? He was already 28 and had the notoriety of next to nothing. But a couple of coins to rub together. And armor that didn't shine. This was not how it was meant to me.

Thinking that the sprightly halfling might have found them somewhere to eat, Brock suddenly felt a rush of energy and quickly dismounted his grey horse (aptly name Charcoal). "Cootufy, I trust there's a tavern in the village, that earthquake you may have felt just before was my stomach. I'm famished."