The party met in Carceras, were collected by Magistrate Sevao, and travelled to Echeron. There, they learned of the city’s plight, and Provost Zoaldavis’ big lie. They ended up in the mountains northeast of the city, about to enter Hell’s Canyon.
Carceras proved to be as shallow as it seemed upon my arrival. After a few weeks of exploring the banality of the town I was about to leave when messengers arrived from Echeron seeking urgent assistance. It was an excuse into the larger city and a greater chance at horizon of knowledge I have pledged to seek.
The halfling running the inn’s kitchen and a quiet, disheveled woman answered the call as well. Through the following weeks of travel the former proved to be as entertaining as his food was unpalatable by Elven standards, but the woman remained reserved.
A dust up with orcs and oddly rising temperatures augered the odd state of Echeron. Dense with refugees, the city was in drenched in fear and chaos, and it wasn’t long before the tenuous deceit the city’s elders masqueraded as leadership came to light. The regent was missing, and those that remained were desperate for help.
With the halfling lost to his fragile constitution, the woman and I began out to the canyon where the regent, and various settlers living on the outskirts, had gone missing. We arrived on the precipice of the canyon deep into the evening, and while Adanna set up camp I scouted ahead. Just as I had settled and began to survey the area the indications of a skirmish shot through the forest; I ran back to Adanna and helped dispatch a group of colbalts.
I contained a survivor and managed to tease an account of a large beast stalking the nearby caves and harassing the cobalts. Upon release he fashioned a crude talisman out of branches and handed it to me before rushing back into the shadows of the forest.