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Since the beginning of history, humanity has measured time in Ages. Ages of Glory, of Dreams and even of Great Sorrow mark the human tally of years, giving a sense of order to the events of past centuries. But one age has yet to occur – an age of darkness, of decay, and of writhing doom. Witty bards and wrathful preachers know it as the Age of Worms, weaving it into the peripheries of their passion plays as a mythic era of destruction that could begin at any time. Astrologers, diviners, and the servants of Fate know more. The canniest among them fear that the Age of Worms has already begun…

This is the game thread for Troy and Kajetan, two adventurers who have gone a separate path from the rest of the group in Mothman’s Age of Darkness pbp game…

Morning, Highday the eighth of Gerron, in the village of Barg:

Troy and Keildrithe emerge back into the sunlight of the village square, from the dark confines of the constabulary, where they have just finished questioning the supposed witch, Gosia Troskie.

Outside in the square, the church bells begin ringing again, announcing the beginning of the morning service. Inquisitor Vorn strides past them, back into the darkened interior of the church.
Only a few stragglers are left in the square with the group of adventurers, although two soldiers continue to stand guard outside the constabulary.

Keildrithe and Troy relate what they learnt from Gosia to the others, and then the group begins to discuss their options and destination. After several minutes of discussion, it is decided that they will seek out the woodsman, Jarred Hale, in the Valley of Snails, deep in the Dimwood. It is hoped that Jarred – a friend of Gosias – will be able to shed more light on the mystery.

However, as the discussions continue, Troy grows less and less comfortable with the idea of going into the Dimwood – high swashbuckling adventure was one thing, but blundering around in a haunted forest was quite another. Besides, he was not entirely sure that he trusted this Inquisitor with the girl’s life for a week or so while they were gone. Just as he was beginning to come to a decision, the halfling, Alton spoke up.

“ I think that either one of us should stay here or that we should ask this Dras person to keep an eye on events here in Barg while we go into the Dimwood.”

Before any of the others can reply, Troy does. “I’m at home – and competent – in a town, or on the deck of a ship. But forests, and spirits, and snails of, possibly, unusual size? I’m not so sure I’d be much help. I also don’t trust that Inquisitor much at all … I think it would be better if I stay here, keep an eye on the girl and the priest. I’ll get in contact with old man Dras too Keildrithe, see what he and his clan can do to help.
“Good luck … and safe journey. I’ll see you in a few days.”

With that, the group says it’s farewells, and the others begin heading in the direction that Keildrithe indicates, the north west gate out of town, and the road leading to the forests’ edge.

Troy waves farewell, and soon finds himself standing alone in the sunshine, under the baleful eye of the two soldiers outside the constabulary, and one or two curious stragglers who have remained in the square, watching the group’s discussions and preparations from a safe distance – few want to be associated with these “heroes” who have possibly just forfeited their own lives for the witches.

Approaching Barg along one of the region’s muddy, rutted dirt roads, the first thing a traveler is likely to notice is the tall, steep sided hill rising up behind the village. High atop the hill, a castle made of dark stone perches like a hunched predatory bird, looking down on the burg below. A long, switchback trail rises up the rocky face of the hill to the castle gates above.

The village itself is walled in a somewhat haphazard manner, here with a head high wall formed of mismatched stone blocks, there with a tall fence of sharpened wooden stakes, and in places simply by the sturdy, windowless rear side of buildings. Rickety gates are pulled shut across the three roads leading into town from the surrounding farmlands (one from the south, one from the east and one from the north-west) as night falls, but are left open and unguarded from just before dawn.

The tallest structure in the village proper – taller even than the three functional wooden watchtowers overlooking each gate – is the bell tower of the small stone clad Artonite church which faces the village square. Few other buildings in town, including the Crow’s Call, the village’s only inn, rise above two stories in height. Sharing the frontages of the square with the inn and the church are the town hall and constabulary, a small general store, and a few other small shops and businesses. Near the north end of the village are two other important businesses, a livery stable and the town smithy. Most of the rest of the village consists of houses and various small businesses and light industry supporting the surrounding farms. The best houses line the four wide, cobblestone streets that radiate out from the square, whilst the others are packed tight around the maze of smaller, unpaved streets behind them.