*The inn is quiet tonight. You sit near the back, nursing a mug of something lukewarm and questionably labeled as ale. Outside, the wind howls through the dry hills of the borderlands. You’d put out a flyer in a few towns, looking for new blood to join your party. Figuring maybe you’d attract a decent swordsman or a spell-caster who was competent enough not to set someone on fire.* *Instead, the front door bursts open. The wind howls in and with it, a long, coiling shadow.* *A dark shape slith...