A dull orange skyline with a backdrop of dark reds turning slowly into a dark purple high above, dark gray clouds stretched in isolated splotches. The backdrop of the dark forest, many trees illuminated by that dark orange from a source not seen. Truly it were as if there were a moon or sun above sending out a cascading light; though one look to the sky would confirm that there was no such orb present, such appearing as if the landscape itself was glowing this coloration. There were stars glistening above however, albeit rather faded into the purple maw- which to the absolute top of this canopy of a clearing faded from the purple into utter blackness.

A vast, VAST clearing lay just short of three square kilometers; however it most certainly was not an empty clearing. A town lay propped near the middle of this empty void of trees, structures of mostly wood and stone standing. Many small one to two story homes dotted this town, of which there were no more than a couple dozen. Multiple houses appeared worn out with broken windows or fallen shutters, boards falling from the structure or holes in the walls, a few with their roofs even caved in.

Dirt walkways dotted the town for the most part and it wasn’t until one neared the center of the town that stone walkways were laid. In the town square three stores, an relatively large inn, a tavern, and most striking of all a large stone cathedral with a bell tower, one which held a tremendous clock face. An icon of this ghostly town with so few souls present in the streets, most held up in their homes or straight up not around.

Little to no sign of life aside from the stragglers, and the approaching convoy of which there were now three carriages, many horses, and many guards. The clatter of hooves and the crackle of the cart wheels echoed as they strolled right along. To one side of the convoy moved Elise with her hood up at the present. Her gaze crossed over the landscape and around the town. Beside her still walked her ally from before who now stared out at the town as well.

“This is Lox Town?” Elise murmured to her friend.

“Not at all what I was expecting,” he grumbled back.

The group closed in on the town, the carriages continuing to rattle right up to the town’s entrance; however as they got closer to the main gates the guards to the front of the group held their arms out. The horses let off their cries as they came to a halt, eyes of the coachman and guards stationed around looking up. Four individuals stood near the gate, all of them men, all of them in ragged stitched up clothing.

Stitched up vests, brown and blue. Stitched up pants, some with the length cut back or torn. Two with crossbows that looked cracked and worn, one with a chipped dagger ready to fall out of the handle, and one with torn apart gloves. Not a single one of them appeared all that built, some tone and muscle but certainly not much of a presence.

The Caravan Guards readied themselves, some with swords a tenth unsheathed or bows loaded up with arrows. Even the five cloaked figures were standing uneasy set to pounce. With the carriages stopped and everyone tensed up, it came as no surprise when the well to-do man from before in the fine furs popped out of the back and began to bark away~

“What is the meaning of this hold up? Have we arrived at the-” he began while walking ahead, immediately spotting the four rugged goons, “What malarkey is this then? Men- ready up and arrest these rapscallions!”

“Hold it sir,” the cloaked man beside Elise called out, throwing his right arm out and then approaching forward.

The four tensed up and readied their weapons, while the guards behind the cloaked figure did the same now at half ready to attack. As he approached the hooded man dropped his hood, revealing a relatively handsome figure- sculpted face, well looking black hair that seemed freshly washed somehow, visible cross-earrings, amber eyes with a hint of glow to them. He appeared relatively young, in his late twenties at the very most.

“We intend no harm here. We’re simply traveling through on our way from Glastol to Hanover Pass on the other side of this here forest. Buncha our fellows are ‘sposed to meet up with us here,” he stated.

The four said nothing, and no one moved a muscle from the caravan side aside from the man in the fine furs who appeared to look only more displeased with a growl, “Such insolence… ready arms!”

“HOOOOOOOOOOLDIT!” came a shout from behind the four, who now appeared surprised.

A gruffly response, raspy somewhat. There came a clatter behind the four guards of the town who quickly stepped aside. From the gates came two newcomers, one a woman in similar attire to the other men whilst the second figure was a short old man. The old man had thick bushy eyebrows that mostly covered his eyes, a very messy thick white beard and stache combo that obstructed his mouth entirely, little hair atop his head, and he himself was dressed in even worse rags and holding a cane. He scooted passed the four, easily done as he was around half their size, and stopped before the unhooded member of the convoy.

“Well now… we don’t get many visitors. Actually since I’ve been mayor, we haven’t had ANY visitors. Who…….. are you people??” the old man questioned.

“My name is Blake Holkot. I’m one of the guards of this here convoy. Bunch of folks here are lookin’ to move some cargo out of the mountains through these here woods to Hanover Pass,” the man of black hair replied, “Bunch of small groups set out with a wagon a’piece. All agreed to meet up at this small town. According to the maps it was a good mid-way.”

“Guh, maps? Sonny if we’re on a map then your maps are damn well older than I am. No one goes through these woods anymore, and no one ever leaves. Been that way for the better part of the last eighty-five years.”

“What uh… what do you mean by that last part? No one ever leaves?”

“Course not youngster, not since those cult folks cursed the damn place. Once you fall under the shroud there ain’t no leavin. Most folks that walk in wanderin ‘round for the rest of their days searchin for an escape. Ain’t no way out of here.”

“I beg your pardon!” the man in the fur barked, now storming ahead, “We are on an important mission for the Region of Glastol, to deliver this cargo to our benefactors for their professional aid in dealing with a number of issues concerning our brethren. We do not have time for such superstitious insolence.”

The old man looked from Blake to the bureaucrat before him, “Sonny, ain’t no superstition. This here is the real deal. There ain’t no escapin the Eternal Hollow. Ye be daft ta think this is some joke. Our folk been stuck here in this place for a long time.”

“Now listen here, I don’t care what you might believe or say. If these savages you speak of are of such danger, then we will appropriate them proper!”

“Heh, heh heh. Ye fools be walkin to yer deaths with attitudes like that,” the old man chuckled.

“How dare you, you wretched- filth!”

“Sonny, I never said it were the cultists stoppin’ folks from leavin. I said it was the curse they put down. Guarantee ya this- you keep on goin from here and you won’t be walkin back out. Be lucky enough to find our here lil town again.”

“Wretched-” the man growled, growled that is until Blake placed a hand upon him.

The man looked to Blake who was already in the process of speaking, “Magistrate Garvin, please,” he began, “Lets just let calm heads prevail now, alright? What does it matter if you don’t agree with the geezer? We’re here now, and we have to wait for the other wagons anyway. Why not settle in for the night and organize your men. Maybe a couple people from our team can inquire about these cultist guys and the curse?”

Garvin stared with irate fire for a few brief seconds, until finally sighing out a, “Very well Mercenary.”

Garvin then turned and walked from the presence of Blake and the old man, brushing right passed Elise. Blake in turn turned with an apologetic response, beginning to converse further with the old man. All the while Elise stood motionless, lost in thoughts of her own given by the expression she now wielded. Around her the guards of the convoy would begin to break off and head back towards the other carriages, following up with the magistrate. The cloaked figure that had sat beside the coachman for the majority of the journey hopped down to the ground with a slight thud, joined soon after by the other two of the group of five.

“Elise,” Blake called back, to which the hooded folks all shifted their heads back to look ahead, “I’m going to go with the Mayor here and negotiate our stay in town. I want you to come along. Andi is in charge while we’re away. You hear that Dante?!”

“Yeah yeah,” a loud bark came from one of the hooded figures.

Elise broke from the group and strolled ahead. As she did the old man had already begun to walk back into town with Blake right behind, as well as the woman who was accompanying the old man. Entry into the town was swift, just through the gate, and within the boundaries of the town all was as it appeared on the outside. Inside the houses appeared boarded, some secure, others falling apart.

There was little to no life in the town, simply a few people in the same baggy stitched attire as the old man and the woman. A few faces could be seen poking around corners and through windows. As Elise flipped her hood back she did so slowly, turning her head left and right, looking upon the place. Broken crates and carts in the streets, stains on the ground that looked slimy.

The group walked up to a particularly well-to-do building, single story though very wide with a large window to one side of the home. The young lady accompanying the elderly mayor opened the door, to which the entire group walked in and entered the foyer. The inside of the building was very open, no walls on the inside dividing up the rooms aside from the apparent bedroom and bathroom which had open doors at the present. All else- the kitchen, the living room, the foyer, it was all open.

The old man moved across the room to a large torn up chair and sat upon it, with the woman standing right beside him, “Ooof, yeh, sorry bout that. Now what was that ye spoke of before? From Glastol?”

“That’s right sir,” Blake began again, “My team is helping to escort a bunch of folks from the Glastol Region. It stands about a good couple days journey East of here. It’s surrounded by mountains and rough seas to the East and North, and to their South is an enemy kingdom.”

“So what’s the hot head’s story with all of this?”

Elise looked around the room briefly, her thoughts trailing off for a short bit as Blake and the old man began to talk.