The Village of Hommlett—or merely "Hommlett," as it is commonly called—is situated in the central part of the Flanaess, that portion of western Oerik Continent which is known and 'civilized.' The hamlet-sized village
(local parlance having distinguished it with the greater term) is located some 30 leagues southeast of the town of Verbobonc, or thereabouts, on the fringe of the territory controlled by the noble Lord the Viscount of Verbobonc. It is at a crossroads.
To the north is the mighty Velverdyva River, along whose south bank runs the Lowroad. Many days' travel to the east, on the shores of the Lake of 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 southeastand east are miles and miles of forest (the Gnarley), beyond which is the Wild Coast,Woolly 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 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 tradesmen and artisans to serve those passing through. The resthouse became a thriving inn, and a wheel and wainwright settled in the thorp. More farmers and herdsmen followed, for grain was needed for the 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 assert), come it did. 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 the flocks and herds. Local
militia and foresters of the Waldgraf of Ostverk 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 its 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 its faithful brought in their illgotten tithes. Good folk were robbed, pillaged,
enslaved, and worse.
In but three 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 this cancer were full of hubris and, in their overweaning 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 collective sigh—some pained at the loss of income, but others relieved by the return to 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 malevolent.
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 Temple's? 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 graze 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...
Nomin, shakes out what's left or rather the lack there of his pipe weed and grunts looking at this quaint little thorp.
Nomin, looks at the sole of his boot and thinks "There's not much left there, I wonder if I can find a cobbler and more over a way to pay for it?"
Nomin is still a few miles from Hommlet. As he nears the town, the sun begins to set. Deciding to risk traveling in the dark, he knows he can make it to the small village just after night fall. With the last rays of the sun cresting above the changing autumn foliage he stops. The sound of cries and grunts is muffled from ahead. Who and how many can't be determined, just the sounds steel and pain. As he pauses he catches movement far behind him. A dark skinned man wearing outlandish armor and wolf skins is creeping toward him along the side of the road.
Timur, also traveling to Hommlet noticed the lone traveler ahead of him a short while ago. Being naturally wary of strangers, he kept a safe distance. With the setting of the sun, the road becomes even more dangerous. The sounds of battle ahead catch the first traveler's attention. Timur watches as the traveler snuffs out his pipe and inspects his boots. Also hearing the sounds, Timur peers ahead on the darkening road to see what the stranger does. He thinks to himself, "Better him than me"
Does Nomin hear anything ahead? If not he proceeds to the distant village.
Nomin draws his rapier and main gauche and prepares himself for pain and bloodshed.
As you peer ahead down the dark road, you see a petite feminine form, staggering around the heaps of fallen combatants. The light cast by the rising twin moons reveals small humanoid bodies and a few larger perhaps orcish, mixed in with a handful of male humans. Upon closer inspection you see, that they are not human. Slender features and tapered ears reveal them to be the prone forms of elves.
The lone female also appears to have elfin features. Her silver hair and gleaming violet eyes mark her as a Grey Elf. She is quite wounded, leaning on a staff to remain standing. She wears a translucent robe, with badly smashed delicate chain mail accents now useless as armor. A tiny silver circlet rests upon her head, balanced and not out of place, despite her ordeal. Simple sandals cover her feet. A silver lace sash, embellished with silver bells, rows of tiny hooks and threaded with hundreds of beads circles her waist. A mirrored shield lies on the ground near her. She wears a medallion, depicting a small silvery crescent moon, with a larger full moon suspended by it.
You can see her coughing and retching. Blood sprays from her lips as she heaves.
" నన్ను రండి! నేను వెళ్ళడానికి , కానీ నేను పాస్ నేను హెల్ పంపుతాము ఒక మంచి ప్రదేశం తీస్ ! "
The elf maiden, tosses her head back and mutters. The sound from her mouth is a voice, but not hers. It's as if a chorus of other people are yelling and their collective voices are escaping through her lips. The sound is definitely a language, but not one you recognize.
Two smaller forms emerge from the brush along the side of the road. A pair of small sickly puce colored humanoids, with blades drawn, close in on the girl. They have extremely long tapered ears and fierce scowling, savage faces. They advance upon her slowly, as if they are afraid of her, yet also trying to intimidate her. They growl and hiss, chattering in a strange tongue. Gleeful snickering emits from them both as they charge her.
Hisssssss!
Grrrrrr!
Nomin dashes to the side of the embattled elvish girl. He skids to a halt on the dark road. He grimaces as he realizes the mud he is sliding through is dirt mixed with blood. The smell of sweat and irony fluids lingers in the air. His blade flashes in the moonlight, like a silent flash of lightning. It slices the air over the first goblin's head. The diminutive creature screeches in fear, yet it's psychotic mind can't help but advance on the ever weakening elf woman. Nomin turns on his heel undaunted by the near miss. He casually aims his weapon at the goblin before him.
Timur steps out of the brush, his falchion raised high upon his head. He lets out the load primal howl of his clan and rushes in the direction of the goblins in front of the elf maiden. He then yells in common "BATTLE! REJOICE!!"
Combat soliloquy at the goblin "I will have your twisted head upon this spike, filth!"
Goblin 2 stops in it;s tracks. He sees Timur's weapon. The shadow of the blade all but covers him as he waits for the impact.
Timur's blade, held high begins it's descent. The Goblin seems mesmerized by the reflection of the moonlight on the blade. It's eyes focus on the sharp edge as it comes closer. The humanoid's face never changes it's fascinated expression as the blade cleaves into it's skull.
The goblin never ceases grinning it's stupid sneer as the falchion passes through it's face and continues down it's spine to the ground. The sickening suction sound as Timur retracts it, resonates in the night. The goblin falls in a heap, It's face just separated enough to make it's smile seem unearthly. The moonlight shines in it's dead eyes.
The elfin priestess continues to chant in the alien multi-toned voice. Her hands let go of the staff and she sinks slowly to one knee, never losing focus of her actions. Sweat beads up on her forehead, mixing with blood. Her hands splay out and her fingers gnarl into claw like half fists. An electric blue flash of light plays along her knuckles and fans out, arcing between her outstretched hands and the remaining green humanoid.
Goblin one sneezes. trying to recover from it's discomfort, it thrusts it's weapon toward the elfin lass.
The goblin sneezes and trips over itself, missing the elf. It hisses and grunts. A savage reddish gleam flashes from it's eye's. It shrieks a cry that echoes in the night. The elfin maid sighs and keels over. Her eyes begin to glaze over as her life force diminishes.
Nomin tries to feint and attack the remaining goblin.
Nomin leans to one side and draws his weapon back. The goblin attempts to parry, with a quick well executed circular counter swing of it's weapon. At the last second Nomin shifts his weight in the other direction. The goblin parries empty space and blinks, quite confused.
Nomin uses the momentum of his changing stance to redirect his blade.
The goblin hisses and blocks Nomin's attack.
Timur's eyes widen as he surveys the carnage. Dead elves and goblins everywhere. The split humanoid at his feet, still oozing blood, sets him off. Timur howls, like some beast and raises his blade again. He brings it down with full force on the goblin.
The flat of Timur's blade hits the goblin at an angle. The sheer force of the blow, combined with Timur's growing battle lust, just shatters the greenish head like a ripe pumpkin. The appendage separates in multiple sprays and splashes of viscous dark blood. The rest of the goblin falls to the ground.
Timur stares around the darkened road, warily.
Nomin thinks to himself "There's nothing left to put on this spike." he sheathes his blade.
Timur silently begins rummaging through the dead goblins for anything of value, ignoring the others. He finishes off any who still stir.
Vanyalanthiriel is coughing up blood. Multiple fractures are apparent. She gazes up at Nomin. An unearthly wisdom seems to descend on her. Her eyes show no fear or worry. in broken common speech, she asks him, " you to has bring mine to Cuthbert church. I'm to go..soon. Y'dey!" She holds up her twin moon medallion. Her eyes implore you to perform this task. She says the name again, "Y'dey, she priestess. Her to help send them."
She is barely able to raise her other hand. She motions to her dead brethren.
" Bones to dirt, dirt to bones"
She coughs up more blood.
Timur finds 520cp, 212sp, 20gp and a very small sapphire(10gp. The goblin equipment is scarce and battered. There were a few orcs here, their weapons seem intact, but inferior. One Orcish double axe seems to be at least worth a few gp if a merchant is interested in such things.
Though nobody is searching overtly, it's hard not to notice. The elves seem lightly geared. It's not unusual for small scouting parties to be on the roads. Still, with rumors of brigands and worse on the roads, it's not surprising to see a small group end up like this. No sacks bags or pouches. You do notice hoof prints. You can't tell if they are fresh or not. There are 3 elven males and another female. All wielded curved blades, much like sabers.
Nomin says "Stay with me m'lady, hold on. I will take your amulet to the Church of Cuthbert, but your not going to die!"
Speaking toward Timur "SMy strong friend, do you have any skill in binding wounds? This lady is in sore need."
Vanyalanthiriel seems almost disturbed, that you are trying to help her. It's an alien concept to you, but she grows almost irritated. She isn't struggling, but she's acting as if she's even more uncomfortable, if such a thing is possible.
Nomin says "Weigur, help me with this woman's wounds, she is dying quickly"
Timur looks up from the looting, frowns and heads over to help.
Vanyalanthiriel's breathing becomes more relaxed. Much of her bleeding seems to be staunched. A few makeshift blankets seem to keep her from shivering.
Nomin and Timur sit quietly in the dark forest. The pale moonlight does little to illuminate the road. The corpses of a dozen elves and humanoids surround them. Slowly the sounds of whatever dwells and lurks in the wooded area return and get louder. It's as if the sounds of battle quieted the spot. Now without any distractions, the creatures that make these woods home, resume their existence.
The sounds of flying creatures and tiny scurrying things are abundant. Here and there, larger sounds can be heard. The one certainty is that the three travelers are not alone.
Timur moves the bodies of the enemy to whatever underbrush can be seen. He selects an area safely away from the party. He mutters "food for the wolves".