Oakhaven
- Session 131 Prep (← links | edit)
- Session 131 Whispers in the pass (← links | edit)
- Session 132 Prep (← links | edit)
Oakhaven, Village
A clutch of rough-hewn stone dwellings, clinging to the mountainside like stubborn weeds. Snow falls thick, muffling all but the wind's howl. A single, treacherous path, cobbled with uneven stones, snakes up from the valley's maw. The air bites, and a strange, metallic tang hangs amidst the woodsmoke.
Notes:
The metallic scent hints at the arms shipments passing through. The villagers are wary, but attempt to appear normal.
The Shop (General Goods/Provisions)
A ramshackle structure of timber and plank, its sign obscured by snow. Within, a jumble of mundane supplies: dried herbs, cured meats, rope, tools. A stout woman, her gaze sharp, tends the counter. Furs hang from the rafters. The air is thick with the mingled scents of trade and the faint, unsettling whiff of something... else.
Notes:
The woman, named Elara, is observant. She may have information, but is hesitant to share. The "something else" is the oiled steel of the weapons.
The Stables
A hulking edifice of dark stone and timber, its doors barred tight against the storm. The scent of hay and horseflesh mingles with the metallic tang of oiled steel. Within, heavy crates are shifted by shadowed figures. The rhythmic stamping of hooves echoes in the dim light. A sense of clandestine activity pervades.
Notes:
The stables are a key transfer point for the arms. The crates are heavy, and the men are armed. The horses are strong pack animals.
Cottage, Small
A squat, single-room dwelling of dark, rough-hewn stone, built into the very slope of the hill. A thin plume of smoke, tinged with a faint, metallic odor, escapes the chimney. A single, small window, glowing with the flickering light of an oil lamp, offers a glimpse of a meager interior. The door is thick, banded with iron. A lean-to shelters firewood. A palpable tension hangs in the air.
Notes:
This cottage is a potential hideout or storage for the arms. The metallic smell is stronger here.
Padlock, Shop Door
A heavy, iron beast, its hasp thick as a man's thumb. Rusted and pitted by years of mountain weather, it hangs like a grim sentinel upon the shop's thick, plank door. The keyhole, a dark, gaping maw, seems to swallow the meager light of the lantern. A thick, linked chain, similarly rusted, binds the hasp to a stout iron ring, hammered deep into the wood. The padlock is not merely a barrier, but a statement: sturdy, unyielding, and meant to deter all but the most determined or foolish. A faint, oily sheen coats the iron, hinting at recent handling, or perhaps, a deliberate attempt to ward off the encroaching rust.
Notes:
The oily sheen suggests recent handling, or deliberate maintenance to prevent rust. It could be a clue.