The day dawned grey with a dull chill on the wind and an angry sea breeze that buffeted the sheer cliffs of the rocky island outcrop. The commoners went about their routines; the fishermen rose before the dawn to braid holes in their rough nets from the last catch, merchants dutifully swept the rough earthen entrances to their modest shops, the executioner made idle chat with the latest tax evader to be thrown in the stacks… until the tall masts of a ship pierced the horizon, aglow with the fierce light of the rising sun.

The commoners panicked and rushed to their homes to look fearfully from their doorsteps for the mobilization of the guard. The mounting dread of another Luskan raid sucked the breath from the small settlement as the commoners watched the retaining wall in terror, waiting for the first grappling hook to signal another day of slaughter. And, to make things worse, the guards were nowhere to be seen. Not one remained upon the wall. Lord Wiltun had forsaken them, drawn into his fortress to wait out the raid!

Mothers and children wept silently as Fathers clutched old, unfamiliar weapons and tried to ignore the tremors of apprehension that shook their arms until the guardsmen, glorious in Wiltun’s dark green, shining crossbows at the ready, burst from the castle and streamed out the gates to meet the threat head on, but the gory sounds of battle did not commence. Instead, the guard reentered, flanking a party of three in the elaborate costume of some foreign land.

Two males and a female were marched to the center of town just below the castle’s entrance. Parrico himself emerged from the castle, his arms held wide, welcoming the new guests.

Commoners were quickly recruited to head down to their ship, a brilliant vessel proudly flying the colors of Calimshan. They unloaded crates full of rare aromatic spices, the finest silks, and barrels of wine. Among the cargo were several heavy wooden crates that, to even the most ignorant of arcanists, were obviously covered with magic designed to keep them sealed and discourage theft.

The ship was unpacked and set sail again just as the sun began to set and the people of Wiltun, done with their involuntary toil, turned their faces to the residence of Lord Wiltun V, eager to hear news of these strangers, gossip flitting amongst them quick as birds…
Eventually Parrico emerged flanked by two guards, and a crowd drew beneath him. He addressed the multitude, though his voice seemed somewhat hollow.

“His Grace Lord Arsant Wiltun V wishes to call together the citizens of Wiltun and all other interested parties to address an important matter at an hour to sundown tomorrow eve.”

And with that, he turned on his heel, and reentered the castle, without so much as another word. Whispers like the crackling of a fire swept the townspeople, many closing their shops early to “rest up” for the proclamation…

//Tonight at 10:30 pm EST.

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