Standing on the fringes of a vast and noisome swamp, Thornhill is a miserable, hard place of cloying mud, grasping thorns and insular, superstitious folk. There is a little cheer to be had in Thornhill; the few visitors describing it as dull and dreary as the surrounding swamps. For all that, though, a steady trickle of adventurers visit Thornhill for the half-buried and drowned ruins of several tombs said to lie forgotten in the surrounding marshland and the villagers have friends among the nearby degenerate lizardfolk who make excellent guides in the trackless, far reaches of the swamp.

Ruled over for centuries by the scheming, ambitious Lorsch family, Woodridge is little more than a backwater village standing on the eastern bounds of the Duchy of Ashlar. Standing astride an ancient, now little-used trade route the village is a poor, but seemingly peaceful place. Its folk tend their small fields, pay their lord his due and are content to be left in peace. But all is not as it seems. Spies lurk among the populace, and dark forces gather which would see Woodridge’s lord, Hilduin Lorsch, converted to their faith or dead.

The once quiet and quaint halfling community of Underdell rests along the Old Road near the Salt Mire. Steeped in tradition and idleness, the Underdellians found themselves unprepared to deal with the horrors of the plague outbreak in nearby Ashford. Terror gripped Underdell, tearing apart the strong bonds of family and friendship. Fear and paranoia took root in the halflings’ hearts as they tried to escape sickness and death. As Underdell falls apart, a vile halfling bandit has used the chaos to take control of Underdell, enforcing a strict martial law. As neighbour turns on neighbour, a group of bandits terrorize merchant caravans traveling through Ashlar, raiding with impunity and aided by a rich noble. The Underdellians, their smiles and laughter turned to tears and hopelessness, live in fear of another plague outbreak and the harsh punishment of the bandits who insist they are protecting and enriching the village.

Standing hard against the River Ost, Kingsfell is seemingly a tranquil and prosperous village on a well-travelled trade route. However, the village stands on the site of a long-forgotten battlefield and not all the dead rest easily in their graves. Strangely, while the paladin—and lady of the village—Mira Lankinen, the scion of an ancient line, keeps watch over her lands, a subtle unease shrouds the village. Strangers sometimes arrive in Kingsfell armed with spades and picks intending to dig beneath the Kingstones, for rumours and old stories vaguely place buried treasures beneath their feet. Local laws and traditions prohibit such treasure hunting, however, and few dare to face down Mira Lankinen and her skilled, vigilant men-at-arms. Thus, so far the stones and whatever lies beneath remains undisturbed.