With a few rubies, you were able to procure a ride to your destination from a kindly yet dour-looking old man and his mule-driven carriage. Not the most elegant, as with every pothole and puddle the dimwitted beasts decided to drag the carriage through, the constant rattling and rocking were enough to nearly jar the teeth from your jaw. Alas, in your case, beggars could not be choosers. So for now, you sat back and endured the ride. You were on your way to Gransylva, the ill-famed Dead Kingdom. You had your reason for venturing into this forsaken realm wrought with peril, and though there may have been protests against such a dangerous journey, you were adamant about taking it.
As you looked around, you noticed others sitting in the carriage with you. "Are they too headed to Gransylva?" You ask yourself. "Why else would they be coming along?"
A while later, you passed through the dense fog, your first reminder that you were entering a land like no other. The old man, out of nowhere, began a fit of coughing and quickly pulled a bandanna over his mouth, urging you and the others to do the same and cover your own. He then produced from the collar of his filthy shirt an odd necklace, some sort of charm you perceived it to be. A few words he whispered, the language incomprehensible to you, and as though by...well...magic, the fog gradually lifted, giving you a clearer glimpse at your grim surroundings.
Moments ago, when you and the others had begun the relatively lengthy journey, the sun was shining at its brightest, the air cool and crisp with the soothing aroma of wildflowers dancing in the verdant meadows, exhibiting such beautiful and frail colors, such wondrous shades and hues against the backdrop of a clear blue sky. But upon nearing the edge of the forgotten kingdom, upon passing through the dense miasma, those colors faded into a drab, ugly, lifeless palette of dull grays and dismal blacks. The trees of the surrounding forest were bare, their naked branches twisted and gnarled with no leaves or foliage to cover their exposed bark from the ill-chilling winds that encompassed you and your fellow travelers.
The skies above were choked with tumultuous, rolling black clouds, the distant sound of thunder growling as lightning flashed and the rain poured down in sheets. No longer was the sweet scent of flowers upon the air but a ghastly, rank odor, a stomach-churning amalgamation of ancient dust and rotting corpses. This place...there was no doubt in your mind that it was evil.
Slowly as the rickety wooden cart, creaking and groaning with every turn of the wheels, continued down the trail, a sudden chill perked your senses. It was...such an unnatural feeling from the typical sense of danger lurking nearby, more or less like the nails of some horrible beast raking down your bare back, clawing at you with such malicious and ravenous fervor. You steadied yourself, a shallow breath you drew while the carriage pressed on through mud and mire.
It would not be long before the carriage arrived at its first stop, the lowly village of Barille. Before that time, you decided it best if you got a bit more acquainted with your fellow travelers. After all, they were going to the same place as you.
And so, with a gruff clearing of your throat, you sat up and introduced yourself."
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