D&D - Ravenloft - Alba

Rain coats the grass tundra, already slick from the morning dew and mist hugging the ground. Frozen in places, the grass crunches as your horses hooves turn it into a muddy soup along the road to Skara Brae, the capital. It is an overcast day, the sky of Alba hanging heavy with rainclouds.

A gibbet iron creaks as it swings slowly in the air overhead. It's occupant grins skinlessly down from on high

In the distance the capital looms, set atop a low hillside. A loose collection of buildings and hunters huts surrounded by a high wooden wall, this is one of the few respites from the harsh wind of the highlands for miles around.

Far across the plains a column of horses slowly make their way to the capital, summoned as you have been, by the ruler of Skara Brae, Lord Cináed mac Ailpín for the annual Lord's Council. Ostensibly a gathering of the great and the good, the event has descended into political infighting in recent years.


As you approach Lord Ailpin's keep Castle Manifest, you pass a crater burnt into the roadside, the remnant of a recent pyre. The crater is half full of water, a sight which is commonly known as a Witches Chalice. Witch hunters are a growing occurrence, scouring the lands for evil doers.


Deaths on the highlands are not a rare occurrence, but in recent years the number has been increasing. Young women have been found dumped throughout the countryside, a large X cruelly gouged into their faces. In reaction to these attrocities, unrest has swept the land with witch trials and burnings becoming rampant throughout the south leading to accusations of clan genocide.

Your horse trots onwards up the mud path, the castles black stone walls closing in the distance. Above, ravens circle.