[It is late-Autumn and the nights are getting darker. It’s around 8:00 pm.]

From the bay to the south a frigid wind blows. Over the city walls, around the corner of a stall, beneath the gap under a door, and right through a woolen sweater -- chilling the tired and aged bones that wear it. Overcast and with light rain beginning to fall, the sighs of deary workers add to the clanking wooden carts and gruff, muffled voices.

This is Tragos. A small port city tucked neatly in the folds of a peninsula to the east. What was once a bustling trade center has, in recent past, been reduced to a mere waypoint for travelers passing through to neighboring coastal hubs.

Centered around the local exchange is an assortment of homes and the odd alehouse or inn. It is to the road north of this that we find a modest convoy making its way across a bridge to the city’s gates; straight to the port, no doubt.

One coach, however, splits off from the company to allow those who have booked passage to disembark. The cabin sways as a handful of tradesmen and migrants step off, and after a pause, they are followed by two unusual characters.

[Introducing Mike]
The first: a long, slender wizard; pale as marble and just as warm. He grabs the swaying carriage and stepping down, lengthy black hair spills from the hood of a time-worn cloak, revealing a pair of smoldering vermilion eyes. With one hand on a tooled, leathery tome bearing the image of a tentacled mouth, he pivots to offer the other to his associate.

[Introducing Emily]
The back of a dark palm appears, ruthlessly smacking the offer away with a crack. The wizard laughs. Heeled leather boots tread forward to meet the earth in earnest as the jingling of a sorceress’ charms coincides with the first rumble of thunder heard in the distance. An ivory comb, set in gold, sweeps several locks of dusty rose hair to one side as she turns to her colleague with flickering green eyes.

You’ve heard abroad about some strange happenings here. Being students of the esoteric yourselves, your interest was peaked and have journeyed to Tragos in order to satisfy your curiosity.

The horses whiny as the hired coach teeters off to the stables, the sky continues to darken as our light shower increases to a downpour.

Before you lies the Open Arms Inn. What would you like to do?

[PC's enter inn]

A wooden plank creaks as a thick rope is gathered from a bundle to the side of the deck of a longship. Two surly sailors hop down from the side and begin working to tie it off to the dock they’ve arrived at. A board is let down and a collective of travelers and crewman pilfer out into a dimly lit marina. As they disperse, another foot steps onto the pier.

[Introducing Dave]
Slick black scales cover an imposing, tailed figure. His mixed eyes open and close, revealing a second set of wet eyelids in the process. A rough, patchwork cloak pinned to one side by a silver broach conceals a well-used greatsword, and *tink* *tink* *tinks* as our weary traveler looks about.

There is a handful of crewmen still working nearby, but the road extends to the north. What would you like to do?

[Dave explored the dock and made his way to the inner district and into the inn]