Nuwmont 1st, 1002 AC
Village of Mioveni, Principality of Boldavia, Glantri
Why did we think it was a good idea to follow those stories about the walking hut? Really, a hut wandering the world on giant chicken legs can't be a good place, but the stories of treasure were so tempting. And the opportunity to make our reputation as heroes by rescuing the children rumored to have been kidnapped by the witch who lives in the hut seemed easy enough. One old woman who wanders around in some silly tiny hut couldn't be that dangerous, could she? The bosses insisted they would deal with her in short order and we would share in the glory (and treasure) as their invaluable henchmen. It would be just the sort of thing to set us up on the path to becoming famous (and rich) adventurers. And there was no way they would be tricking us because one of our own was family with one of the bosses - nobody would abandon family!
Well, it didn't turn out to be as easy as those blowhards claimed. They went into the hut which seemed so small that it had to be comical to see all those powerful adventurers packed into that tiny hut like so many kippers in a tin. But then the door closed and the hut stood up on those freakish chicken legs and started to dance. The dance was mesmerizing, we watched as it turned and twirled and pranced and suddenly it was gone. Gone! Nothing but some tracks in the dirt that we were not going to follow for any amount of gold.
To make matters worse, we followed that cursed hut to one of the most blighted places in the Known World. Nobody in their right mind visits Boldavia without a damned good reason. The people in this place are the most unfriendly we've ever seen. Walk into a tavern and they act as if they don't want to take your money. Try to rent a room for the night and the town guard shows up to ask your business and quiz you about why you want to stay and how long you'll be hanging around and then they warn you to do nothing that might draw attention to the town. But putting up with their unfriendly nature is better than camping in the wilderness - wilderness is everything that is not inside a town. Go a stone's throw past the last house or the walls and you're in bleak, dangerous territory. Wolves prowl the night, deadly plants line the paths, monsters of every sort wander as if nobody ever thought to hunt them. Worst of all, regardless of the dangers of the wilderness, not a single one of these peasants will open their door for a stranger after dark. We really have to get out of this place and back to civilization.
We found our way to this village three days ago and the locals are letting it be known that we are wearing out our welcome. We tried to appeal to their mercy by pointing out that it is full on winter and the passes through the mountains are blocked by snow. It would be foolish for us to risk travel in this dangerous land before spring arrives but we all agreed that if we stay here until spring we will surely go mad.
Fortunately, a band of wanderers, they call themselves Vistani, arrived in town yesterday. They must be known to the villagers because they were allowed to set up camp on the outskirts of town and they wander the streets freely as if they have nothing to fear. The villagers glare at their backs and make some strange hand gesture when these Vistani leave a room, but they buy the goods the Vistani brought, and the sell local cheeses, sausages, breads, and wines to the Vistani. These Vistani must be merchants, powerful merchants who travel in weather that would even give a Darokin pause. One of the Vistani who appears to be their leader, a man named Stanimir, immediately recognized that we don't belong here when he visited the inn while we were eating in the common room. He joined us as we slurped on the awful beet stew that seems to be the winter staple food in Mioveni. His colorful clothes and open friendliness immediately brightened the dark room. Stanimir asked if we planned to spend the whole winter in Mioveni. In unison we said, "only if the Immortals can't save us from this bleak place." Stanimir's laugh was infectious and he offered us the safety of his caravan if we wanted to travel with his people. He didn't even ask a fee for joining his people, just that we aid in defending the caravan from any dangers we might encounter on the journey. The Immortals are merciful, our rescue has arrived!
Stanimir says we are to leave at first light tomorrow morning. He promised to send his daughter Damia and his son Ratka to collect us an hour before sunrise.
