[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/ZVBroMN.png[/img][/center]

The sleepy little city of Oaken-- a cobble of red-sloped roofs and coppery clocks nestled like a fawn in the forests between the mountains --had long ago forgotten the Rue. Only the Howling Museum displayed relics of the city's founding, when shadows would loom silent and staring at dawn, missing persons would reappear starved with strange eyes, and backward voices murmured in butcher-dyed stones. Illuminated tomes lay open to fables of two-headed dogs and trees with doors. A glass case presented an ancient leather shoe, the last trace of a child who had been plucked into the sky. Crops would sprout toxic flowers, goats would mew like kittens, blueberry pie would turn to rhubarb when cut. There had been nothing in this valley that the Rue had not touched.

Then, there was hope. Crumbling yellowed newspapers declared the long-anticipated arrival of witches who crawled out of the mountain caverns, carrying with them relics of shining stone. In the corner of the museum, a pedestal displayed an intricate replica of a witchcast piling: one of six hundred stone carvings that still circle the city today, protecting it against invasion by Rue.

Oaken is now a peaceful refuge for the Howl: the unlucky souls born with particular sensitivity to the presence of Rue. It is one of the rare cities untouched by the unexpected. Daily life is gently predictable. Perhaps it's this undercurrent of boredom that weighs the street-corner noticeboards with pleas for help against the plague of the Rue.

This newest flyer was just one among the many:

[quote][center][i]FOR A GOOD CAUSE
VOLUNTEERS WANTED

Traveling Apothecary Seeks Howls
As Escort Through Darklight Corridor
For Medicine Delivery 4 Day Journey
Good Food and Hospitable Conditions
Darklight Station 8 AM[/i][/center][/quote]