You set off on your journey to Fortune’s End, packing what little you could scrounge up; perhaps friends or family gave you some of what they had to help you, hopeful you would bring a bounty home; perhaps you acquired your supplies by less then scrupulous means. Whatever the case, you set off, some of you finding yourselves close to the town sooner than expected, even when you weren’t sure you were going the right way. As though the mere desire to be in the town carried you there. The road leading in is well maintained, though bares no signs of recent use. After an hour of walking in the woods you come across a line in the ground, gouged out of the earth. You kick some dirt into the line expecting it to fill but the dirt simply falls deeper into what you now realize to be a crack. You peer into the woods, first on your left, then your right. The crack stretches past the road into the forest, cutting through ground, but also splitting stones, and stumps, and roots, and the occasional tree. Anything the crack touched had been split. The sight was ominous to say the very least, but the horrors of back home were more than enough to propel you over the line and continue on. 

	The moment you step over the line you suddenly find yourself somewhere new. Before you is a town unlike anything you’ve ever seen, a chaotic cacophony of buildings piled on top of each other, each trying to take up the space of the other. They stretched far up into the sky, with bridges and ladders and rope creating a tangled web of architecture that blocked the light of the sun. Crooked in all ways it could manage, and not looking the least bit stable, the whole place felt as though it was leaning on itself to stay upright. You look behind you, the road stretches on far into the distance, no sign of the crack. You turn back to the buildings and examine them closer, a strange uncanny feeling squirms it’s way into your brain. Each building was made up of numerous planks, and the occasional log, but they all had the exact same windows right down to having the same crack on the same pane. Now and again you’d spot part of a word on a plank, fancy debossed lettering like one would see on a sign. A few nearby spots where the entirety of the sign could be seen revealed what was written. “Welcome to Fortune’s End”, you can even spot a wall that appeared to have a hole covered up with nothing but these signs. 

	You look up, finally noticing something directly above your head. Another sign. You step back a few paces to read it from a proper angle. The same sign was once again used but this time was altered to say “Welcome to Fortune Found” the s was crudely gouged away and the word “found” was made of various broken pieces of wood nailed onto the sign and painted red in stark contrast to the unpainted nature of the rest of the sign. 

	A raspy grunt catches your attention and you quickly look to the source of the sound, ready for some kind of attack. An old man is making his way down the steps of one of the crooked buildings, having emerged from a door that initially looked like just part of a wall. When his feet touch ground he makes his way over with more speed and gusto then would have been expected of such an old and haggard looking person. He glares at you with tired eyes, one of which he seems to be struggling to hold open for some reason. 

	“I see another idiot made their way here, I sure hope you had a damn good reason...” the man didn’t sound mad or disappointed, his voice carried the weight of someone who had long ago accepted what the world was going to throw at them. You like to think you indeed had a good reason to enter the town but before you can say anything the man holds up his hand. “I’m just here to do my job. I long since stopped caring about pleasantries... come with me, you need to meet the mayor.” 

	You hesitate, contemplating if it wise to follow. The old man keeps walking; you’re unsure if he noticed you weren’t following, but doubted he would have stopped even if he had. With little else to do, and a strange warped town not being as bad as the things your imagination had conjured up you take off after the old man. 

	The light from the sun slowly faded to a moody glow, with the majority of helpful light coming from an abundance of lanterns. You are lead through the strange town on a relatively straight path. You catch the occasional glimpse of a person walking around above you across one of the bridges, or make eye contact with someone starring out a familiar window. No one seems to be surprised or to care about your appearance. You spot more examples of the sign being used to build or repair parts of the homes, it felt natural to see them as homes despite nothing about any of the warped buildings appearing very homey.  

	You aren’t walking for long before you exit the area of the buildings and find yourself in a bright clearing, at the centre of which is a small, normal looking town, more along the lines of what you had been expecting. The cacophonous buildings formed a ring all the way around this central town, leaving a 50 meter gap between of nothing. High in the sky sat the sun, as bright as it could be, without a cloud in sight. The moment you enter the clearing it becomes unbearably hot and you almost instantly begin to sweat. 

	Unsurprisingly the old man was not slowed or deterred by the odd change, or the sudden heat, and passed under a sign on his way into the smaller town. The sign was familiar, you’ve seen it several dozen times now. “Welcome to Fortunes End”. You pick up the pace to catch up with the old man. On your way into town you can’t help but take notice of how the heat had ravaged the land. There wasn’t a blade of grass to be seen, every post that dotted the area was split and cracking, and even the dirt seemed unnaturally dry.

	By the time you make it into the town proper you are drenched with your own sweat and in dire need of something to drink. You look around in search of a saloon or other obvious place one might get a drink. Fortune’s End is comprised of twenty or so different buildings all located around a central town hall,  standard for towns once upon a time. The whole place looked fairly normal and unassuming, it was by all accounts a regular mid sized town. You do spot a Saloon, however the old man is making his way towards the hall. Out front of which you can see there is someone sitting in a chair directly in the sun. Given your current state you can’t help but feel that must be extremely uncomfortable for whoever they were. When you get a bit closer you can hear the sounds of hammers and saws and see that there are people who appear to be dismantling the town hall very carefully, making sure not to destroy anything as they do so. You spot a familiar cracked window. 

	Your attention on the building doesn’t last long as the old man leads you straight to the person in the chair. Though person might be the wrong word as they were clearly a mummified corpse wearing the stereotypical finery of the most pompous of pompous mayors. Gold buttons, gold cuff-links, and gold rings adorned the body.

	“This here is the mayor” the old man clarifies. “His name is Finton and he’ll be explaining things to you, ain’t that right Finny.” The corpse begins to move, raising it’s eyeless head, jaw slack, revealing a dried maw on the creature. 

	“Right you are Quill, right. You. Are.” The voice clearly came from the mummy, it useless jaw wiggled and flapped as it spoke. It’s manner of speaking was slow and deliberate, it’s voice sounding akin to if dust could speak. The so called mayor let out a raspy cough and continued, “Welcome to. Fortune’s End. The town. Where you ca-” what ever clearly planned speech the creature was about to say is cut off by Quill.

“Spare me the blabber you dehydrated sack of bones and just get to the main bit.” 

	The mummified mayor slowly raised a pointed finger. “Ah, but surely. This fine. Specimen would wish. To hear about the town.”

	“Trust me, they don’t give a god damn about the town. We all know why they’re here so just get to it so I can go home.”

	The mayor’s raised hand slowly lowered “As you. Wish.” The mayor took a deep haggard breath, “You have. Answered my dire plea for help. I assume?” You nod and show the poster, though it felt odd and unnatural to converse with a speaking corpse.“Splendid. Perhaps you. Will be the hero we need.” Quill kicks the mayor’s chair in an attempt to get him to hurry up his ramble. The mayor presses on, “We, of this town, were cursed. I recall. Not when, nor why. Nor who, nor. How. But I know we are cursed. For what else. Would you call such an existence. You must find. The source of our curse, and, if possible, bring it to an end. As payment. Your weight. In gold shall be awarded. We of Fortune’s End. Hardly need it now.” The mayor, suddenly stops talking and lowers his head back to his chest. You wish to press for questions but are stopped by Quill who spits on the corpse. The spittle hits the dead mans skin with a feint but audible hiss and almost instantly evaporates in the heat.

	“Not a god damn useful thing said, ever. Unhelpful bastard.” He spits again, with much the same result, before noticing your expression. “Ask your questions tomorrow, I got other things t’do then sit here and listen to the same waste of time prattle, now come on. New arrivals stay in the saloon.” Quill walks off towards the fairly typical looking saloon. You are grateful for the sudden development as the potential promise of a drink arises.

	Quill pushes past the saloon doors which surprisingly don’t creak despite your expectancy they do so, and flap back and forth with the vigour that all freshly made saloon doors should. You follow in, still baffled by the never ending barrage of strangeness you are being forced to accept. The barrage does not end; as you enter the saloon you are assaulted by the fresh smell of wood stain and paint, neither of which is as off putting as the grotesque malformed thing on the far side of the saloon existing behind the counter where one would rent a room for the night. You pause just in the entry way, your need for a drink quickly forgotten. 

	“Good evening Fredric.” Quill addressed the creature as he made his way across the room, wearing what one might call an attempt at a friendly face. You wonder why this creature warrants more humanity from the man than yourself. 

	“Well hello there Quill, been some time. Evening to you.” The voice that came out of the malformity was that of a tired old man with a deep American southern drawl. The pair sparks up a conversation comprised of an unusual level of pleasantries given the horror that filled the room. With only a small hint of hesitation you make your way closer, though as you move farther in away from the fresh air entering through the hanging doors the odour of the place becomes even less bearable. Of course bad smells were hardly the most pressing concern.

	The creature behind the counter was an uncomfortable combination of wood and flesh. Its body melded with the counter, and the walls, and the floor, and the ceiling. The grain of the wood flowed into and over it’s bulbous form and warped and deformed as the creature seemed to breath. It’s face was all that was left of it’s head, it’s features stretching out unpleasantly as they tried to go with the flow of the wood and the grain. The creature wore a set of spectacles that it’s wooden body seemed to grow over and hold in place. It had no legs, but still possessed arms; though one was strangely long and gangly like a decrepit branch from a witches tree, and the other was fused into the rest of the body while still holding onto an extravagant cane with a golden handle. The creature, Fredric, awkwardly held it’s free arm away from it’s body, a series of ropes from the ceiling seemed to assist with this. Obviously he was trying to avoid the fate of his other arm. The cubbies along the wall that were normally there to hold onto letters for guests of the saloon were part of the creatures body, creating an uncomfortable holed pattern along one side. To add to the holy nightmare the thing’s entire body was covered in small termite holes, you can tell they’re termites as you can see them skittering over the things body going from hole to hole, and the occasional mite falls out of it’s mouth as it speaks or climbs out from behind an eye. 

	“Well I’ll leave it t’you Fredric. Im off.” Quill waved to Fredric, who waved back with his good hand, and left the saloon paying you no mind. Fredric turned it’s attention to you. When he spoke his voice had the sad tinge of someone in great pain but who had come to accept it.

	“Welcome to the town stranger, it’s nice to meet you, even if under less than ideal conditions.” He smiles at you with a big toothy smile revealing even his teeth are also warped. Several termites crawl out from the corners of his smile when he does this. You worry about the condition of the rest of the building given the apparent infestation, but a quick look around reveals the termites aren’t going anywhere beyond the creature. If the thing noticed you looking it didn’t say anything. “It’s pretty late, you’ll be wanting to get to bed.” with its long hand it reaches into one of the cubbies on it’s body and produces a key, which he hand’s to you. Part of you doesn’t want to take anything from the creature, but futility quickly wins out and you accept the key. As you do you drop it from surprise as a gunshot rings out. You scramble and pick up the key. Fredric, the thing, chuckles. “You’ll be wanting to get used to that. Clock tower doesn’t work so old Thomas fires off a shot every hour on the hour, all day.” The thing waits a moment to see if you will say anything, but you don’t. There are too many things to say, too many questions, too many obscenities to scream. The thing continues once it realizes you aren’t going to add anything.  “Between the heat, the constant sun, and the gun shots most new comers have a hard time sleeping. You can dull some of the sound and block out the light by pinning up the thicker blankets; with the heat most don’t need or want them anyway. Complimentary nails and hammer can be found in your room for just that.” the thing lets out a long tired sigh. “It’s pretty late, you should get to bed. Head on up and find the room that matches your key. There is only 6 so it shouldn’t be to difficult for you. There will be plenty of time for you to unravel whats going on tomorrow.” He closes his eyes. The urge to rouse the thing and bombard it with questions is strong, but you decide against it all the same. It could, or rather would have, to wait for tomorrow.

	With little else to do you head to your room. As the thing, Fredric, had said the room was hot and brightly lit from the sun high in the sky. Normally you’d say the position of the sun meant it was freshly noon, but you had been walking long enough to expect the sun to be much lower in the sky, and your own tiredness did make you wonder how late it actually was. With little else to do you settle into your room for the evening and eat some of the food you had brought with you as none had been offered. You also finish off the last of the water in your canteen which you were surprised but happy to find It wasn’t much left but still helped a great deal. While you ate you contemplated what you had seen and heard so far. Some kind of curse was affecting the town, obvious even if you had not been directly told, but other than that there was little else to go on. To earn your pay you would need to uncover much and somehow undo a curse that by the looks of the secondary town built around Fortune’s End, many many people had yet to solve. 

Will you be the one to free the town?