As introductions ended, the journey began. The horse puffed a wheezing breath and slowly took the first steps forward, Cabin and occupants groaning in tandem as the cursed thing lurched onto the muddy road. It wasn’t long before everyone had gotten at least relatively comfortable, as much as one could be in an ancient death trap such as the one they were in. Through the weathered gaps in the wood, each could see the land of Olde begin to fade, as though the cart traversed upon the faded edges of a worn painting. The comfortable farming villages and lush forests gradually began to wither into mud soaked hills, distant figures wandering in ones and two’s across the silent plains. To the distance was what could hesitantly be called a forest, the trees having long since died and spiderwebs interwoven throughout. The road grew less traveled, more of a line in the dirt than the well kept cobbles known to most inner hamlets. And what seemed to be their destination, the town of Ash. It’s true name long forgotten, with not a single bright light to even indicate a population still lived there, for all intents it seemed to fit its namesake.