Trouble at the inn

As you enter your small yet cozy room, the flickering glow of a solitary candle welcomes you. The humble accommodations reflect the simple nature of the village inn. The room features a sturdy wooden bed adorned with a clean, crisp sheet and a warm woolen blanket. A small nightstand holds a simple oil lamp, casting a soft glow that dances on the walls. A modest dresser stands against one wall, providing a place to store your belongings.

Grateful for the chance to cleanse yourself after a week of outdoor hardships, you proceed to fill the quaint wooden bathtub with steaming hot water . The room fills with the soothing aroma of soap as you lower yourself into the warm embrace of the water. The tension in your muscles gradually dissipates, and a sense of rejuvenation washes over you. The hot water soothes your weary body, cleansing away the dirt and grime accumulated on your travels. It's a rare moment of indulgence and comfort, reminding you of the small pleasures that can be found even in the midst of a rugged adventurer's life.

Once you've thoroughly cleansed yourself, you step out of the bath and wrap yourself in a dry, itchy towel. After drying off, you change into a fresh set of clothes, feeling revitalized and ready to join the lively atmosphere downstairs.

Leaving your armor and "Roses Thorn," resting on the bed, you descend the stairs and enter the bustling common area of the inn. The barkeep greets you with a grump half smile, that fails to hide his missing teeth.

You take a moment to survey the scene. The day's work seems to have come to an end for the town, as the local mill workers gather to unwind and enjoy the pleasures of good food and drink.

Around twenty or so mill workers occupy various tables, their laughter and animated conversations filling the air. The aroma of freshly baked "Darkmeat pie," a village specialty, wafts from the kitchen, making your mouth water in anticipation. The pie, filled with savory meat cooked to perfection, is complemented by a rich, flavorful sauce and encased in a golden-brown crust.

Choosing a table in a cozy corner, you take a seat and beckon a server. You decide to indulge in the village's signature dish and order a slice of "Darkmeat pie" along with a hearty flagon of dark ale. The ale arrives, its foamy head cascading over the rim of the mug, releasing a delightful aroma. You savor the flavors of the pie, relishing the tender meat and the comforting blend of spices. The atmosphere of the inn and the company of the locals provide a sense of camaraderie, allowing you to momentarily let your guard down and enjoy the simple pleasures of good food and drink.

As the revelry gradually quiets down, the atmosphere in the inn takes a somber turn. The jovial conversations give way to hushed murmurs as the villagers turn their attention to an older man who rises unsteadily from his corner seat, his speech slurred from excessive drink. His voice reverberates through the room, capturing the attention of everyone present.

"My son... my son has gone missing," he shouts, his words tinged with frustration and grief. The bar falls into an uneasy silence, ears straining to comprehend his intoxicated ramblings.

The barkeep attempts to intervene, his voice calm but concerned. "John, we've sent search parties out, he's gone, Perhaps he simply desired a change of pace and ventured into the city. He spoke of it often."

"The city?" John spits with disdain. "He's a forager, damn good one too. He's been venturing into those woods for years, always returned home. No, I tell you, he was taken."

A collective sigh sweeps through the room as an observer, seemingly tired of this recurring outburst, groans audibly. It becomes evident that this is not the first time John has voiced his beliefs.

"He was taken, I'm telling you," John insists, his voice wavering with a mix of desperation and conviction. "There are creatures in that wood, snatching people up. Other villages have experienced the same."

The villagers respond to John's claims with skepticism and pity, understanding that his grief has clouded his judgment. While they acknowledge the existence of creatures in the darkwood forest, their own experiences and the village's history indicate that these creatures have not troubled them in decades. The villagers have learned to maintain a safe distance from the forest's depths, and they attribute any disappearances or wanderings to more practical explanations. Despite their awareness of the darkwood's mysteries, they have found relative peace and choose to believe that the creatures, if they exist, have chosen to keep their distance.

As an adventurer, your instincts stir within you. The allure of the unknown and the call to action echo in your heart. Will you dismiss John's claims as drunken ramblings, or will you recognize the possibility that something sinister may indeed lurk within the depths of the darkwood forest? The choice is yours to make as you consider the next steps on your journey in "Woodsedge."