[RP] Averancia: Hero's Call

One of the guides speaks up, agreeing with Aengus. "Aye, these lands are harsh to farmers, most of them moved to the flatlands or the riverlands. This mountainous terrain is mostly clear of communities. These old mines were part of the mine network for Black Hill, which we should be coming up on pretty shortly if we keep to our course."

The creatures of the land lingered, their presence a quiet but steadfast sentinel against the unseen dangers to the north. As the party pressed onward, the assembled animals did not scatter, nor did they follow. Instead, they formed a shifting, chittering barrier between the companions and whatever lay hidden in the looming Blackridge. Their silent vigil held firm as the travelers continued their trek, shielding them from the unseen eyes that might have watched from the distant, shadowed hills.

For the next hour, the journey continued without incident, the dense forest muffling the sound of their passage. The oppressive silence had lifted somewhat, but the feeling of being watched never quite left them. Then, suddenly, a piercing yowl split the air—a guttural, bestial cry that echoed through the hills, rolling down from the Blackridge like a herald of some unseen horror. A second scream followed, then another, a chorus of snarling, inhuman voices raised in an eerie cacophony.

The group instinctively halted, their hands drifting toward weapons, eyes scanning the dense northern treeline for movement. Yet, nothing followed. No shapes moved in the dark reaches of the forest, no figures emerged from the hills. The sounds, chilling as they were, did not draw closer. After a long, tense moment, the guide let out a slow breath, then gave a slight nod.

"They ain't moving yet," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. Then, with a glance toward the companions, he urged his horse forward. "Best keep moving. Whatever’s out there… we don’t want to be around when they decide to come down."

Another hour passed in near silence, the tension lingering like the fading cries in the distance. The thick deciduous forest began to shift as the group climbed higher—the foliage growing sparser, the air crisper. Soon, towering black pines rose around them, their dark needles casting long shadows in the golden afternoon light. The trees whispered with the wind, their towering trunks giving way to a hilltop that overlooked a valley nestled at the foot of the mountains.

And there, sprawling across the rolling foothills, lay the village of Blackhill.

For all the dire warnings and ominous signs, the settlement looked peaceful, untouched by war or ruin. Neat rows of houses, built from sturdy timber and dark stone, lined the winding paths of the village. White smoke curled from chimneys, drifting lazily into the sky, carrying the scent of hearth fires and cooking meals. In the village’s heart, a modest Cathedral of Elion stood, its bell tower rising just high enough to be seen over the rooftops. The afternoon breeze carried the soft, clear pealing of silver bells, a sound that rang out in contrast to the grim silence of the road behind them.

The guide, now visibly more relaxed, pointed down toward the village. "Blackhill," he said with a faint, satisfied smile. "We've made it. And by the looks of it, the village seems no worse for wear."

Though the village is less sparsely populated and is nowhere near as busy as it's building layout indicates it should be, the heroes are able to reach the Cathedral at the center of the village and talk to enough people to uncover the layout of the land and the current situation, though what scouts and messengers have been able to uncover is still being kept under lock and key in proper authority.
 
Blackhill Village
Nestled in the foothills of the Blackridge Mountains, Blackhill Village is a rugged yet peaceful settlement built from dark stone and sturdy timber. Its homes and buildings are tightly clustered along winding paths that climb the hills, giving the village a layered, almost tiered appearance. The scent of pine, woodsmoke, and damp earth lingers in the crisp mountain air, while the distant tolling of silver bells from the cathedral serves as a gentle reminder of the faith that binds the villagers together. Though seemingly untouched by the recent beastmen threats, an air of tension clings to the settlement—watchful eyes peer from shuttered windows, and many of the townsfolk move about their business with quiet urgency.

For weeks now, the villagers have been tormented by the sound of war drums in the night, distant but unmistakable, rolling like thunder from the unseen depths of the Blackridge. At first, only the hunters and night watchmen noticed them, but soon the entire village was forced to acknowledge the terrible rhythm. The drums seem to move, some nights echoing from the abandoned Mine Road, other times rising from the deep forests to the north. There have been no open attacks, no raiding parties seen in the daylight, but the fear is growing. Sleep comes fitfully, with many villagers waking drenched in sweat, haunted by the relentless beating from the hills. It was this mounting terror that drove the elders of Blackhill to send for aid—before the drums are followed by something worse.

Key Locations in Blackhill
The Silver Bell Cathedral – A modest stone cathedral dedicated to Father Elion, standing at the heart of the village. Its bell tower is not large, but its clear chimes can be heard throughout the valley, a comforting presence amid growing fears. The village priest, Father Alric, is an elderly but sharp-minded man who tends to both spiritual and worldly concerns.

The Hearth & Anvil Inn – The village’s only inn, a solidly built structure with a roaring hearth and strong ale. It serves as a meeting place for travelers, merchants, and hunters returning from the mountain woods. The innkeeper, Hilda Karst, is a no-nonsense woman who has heard every rumor that passes through Blackhill’s doors.

The Blackhill Watchtower – An old stone tower overlooking the village, built to watch for raiders and warn of trouble. Recently, the few remaining town guardsmen have begun keeping tighter patrols near the tower, reporting strange sounds at night coming from the north.

The Old Mine Road – A disused path leading north into the Blackridge Mountains, once used to haul ore from the now-abandoned mines. Some claim to have seen flickering lights in the hills, while others whisper that something else has moved in among the ruined shafts.

Though Blackhill appears safe for now, an unspoken fear lingers in the air. The villagers know something is coming—they just don’t know when.