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The End of Sleep takes place in year 372 of the Age of the Widow.  While only a pessimist would say that hope is lost, it isn’t exactly in high supply.  

First it was the [b]efertide.[/b]  An old magic that has surfaced through the Ages to plague [b]the land of Invernier[/b]—“the wrong mist” they call it, the night whispers, the dark sheet.  Every night, when the sun goes down, the black mist of the efertide rises up from the earth, and anyone caught outside without a light is dragged into the darkness.

None of the four previous efernights had lasted longer than a decade.  This one has endured for over three centuries.  Travel at night has become nearly impossible, and interstate trade and cooperation has stagnated.  People are reclusive these days, outsiders are never trusted—and that’s without considering the ghosts, the huntsmen, the wights, the werewolves—all the many ills that have descended with the Age of the Widow.  Most of the old political powers have collapsed.  Eight of the nine great royal bloodlines have died out.  All across the continent, unstable factionalism bubbles and bursts.

The Tempesta, long considered the great gateway between the south and the west, has always been a land of travelers and strangers—people looking for a place to hide, or people on their way to somewhere better.  For most of recent history, it was controlled by [b]the Army of Heroes.[/b]  They proved to be competent, corrupt, and idealistic, all traits that can incur significant anger, and an eventual uprising led the region into civil war.  On one side, the Army—on the other, [b]the People’s Legion,[/b] led by the vindictive [b]General Nostro.[/b]  After three bloody years, the Legion successfully took control of [b]Castle Miranda,[/b] and installed itself as the Tempesta’s new champions.  

Meanwhile, the remains of the Army of Heroes have scattered across the moors, some still fervently opposed to the Legion, most others tired, jaded, and hoping for nothing more than surviving as long as they can.  Nostro sends out his soldiers in search of the survivors, and works to consolidate power over the Tempesta.  Five years have passed since the fall of the Army.  Not much has changed for the average Tempestan or traveler.  However, Nostro has continued his hunt for the old Heroes, and the green cloaks of the People’s Legionnaires have grown much more common as of late—rumor says the General is up to something, and gossip on the subject is colorful, to say the least.

We will start here, at the northern end of the Tempesta, strangers whose paths have all crossed in this little hamlet on the Great Southern Road.