It is late morning, and Tanhok is coming to life under a dreary sky, clouds lingering from the night’s rain, and a fearful air hangs over the populace’s actions. For close to a hundred days now, a spirit has risen under the moonless night of each month, to stalk the village. The first time, it terrorized Stanislava, sending the poor girl running in fright for her life. She wasn’t right for several days after, but finally the infusions of moonbane tea calmed her. The next time the spirit appeared, it simply prowled the street as frightened villagers stared through cracks at the door or down from a roof. Then, 31 days ago, it struck Ranka, a swamp fisher. The spirit slipped through the walls of his house and murdered the boy; leaving a corpse unmarked, save for a twisted look of horror upon his face. Tonight, there will be no moon.<br/><br/>Zenaida, the patron witch of Tanhok, is enjoying many gifts as people are eager to receive wards and poultices to protect them. Several people have secured a pot of blood mixed with willow ash and rust, which when smeared in a circle upon their door will prevent the spirit from entering the dwelling. The two shrines of Tanhok are also crowded with offering. A stout, wooden post, studded with iron nails and crowned with two skeletal hands, bound together with faded red marks the shrine to Bane, a brutal god, but a powerful one, and many people have left a coin of silver or bronze, wrapped in a piece of clothing, drenched with their own blood or sweat, a plea for the Tyrant to lend them strength. The other shrine is less used, but some have still turned hopefully towards the worn leather boot nailed to a stump of wood. Seir, God of the Roadless Traveler speaks to the settlement’s origin before the trade was cut into the land, but now people hope he can convince the spirit to leave.<br/><br/>Despite all this, by day the villagers known they are safe, and there is still land to work, clothes to wash and stitch, fowl to pluck and fish to gut, life goes on, spirits be damned. The main road through Tanhok is dominated by the Ivy Star, a massive, two and a half story inn, older and more imposing than the rest of the settlement’s building. Dwarven craft some say, other insist it was just built a long time ago, when wood was more plentiful and techniques better. Within the thick walls decorated with reed hangings and simple artworks, a dancer practices her routine for the evening, whilst Doroka the land lady fusses over the state of the common room, complaining about her tavern wench who is sick, down with the chills.<br/><br/>On the road approach two travelers, not traders or farmers, but warriors. Mercenaries perhaps, but they look a little exotic. Could they be…hunters? Well then, perhaps there is indeed no need to fear. Lupravia is a tough land, but in turn it breeds tough folk, and will eventually spawn a solution to the any fiend that roams across it.