The rough cobblestones of the road rocked and bumped at the wheels of the carriage as it rolled along through mists, only the soft glow of a lanturn there to provide guidance in the night. The moon was hidden behind the clouds, its light muted from the world below. A chill was prevalent, enough to steal one’s breath from their lungs. Puffs of white escaped the mouth of the coachman as he drove his mare on through the night.

It was a route he had taken more often in these past few months. Ferrying all sorts of people down this ruined and cracked road. It was hard not to feel like the ferryman himself. Especially as their destination neared. Tonight there was only a lone passenger, wearing thick clothes and with a hood up over their head. They must have been dead exhausted to be able to get any kind of rest on these rough roads, but the coachman didn’t ask questions often. Only one reason one came along these roads after all and it wasn’t for the sights. 

It didn’t take long before there was a glow in the distance up ahead. They started passing by ruined buildings, wooden homes of rotting wood feasted on by the termites and fields that bore no crops any longer. It was a cursed place. One barely needed eyes in their heads to know that. The outskirts of the Cursed City of Istrel. It was an eerie place to pass through. Like a graveyard of a once proud civilization. Silent but for the crows and the occasional creaking of gnarled tree branches. 

At last the carriage slowed to a halt as they came upon the only well maintained building in the area. A Church of the Venerated. The only place inhabited around here by anyone halfway sane that the coachman knew of. As they stopped in the glow of the light outside the small church there was a loud squeaking of the lantern hanging over the entryway. The aged driver turned his attention to the figure in the back of his carriage. They hadn’t stirred it seemed. Still dead asleep. 

He waited for a tick and got up, climbing into the back of the carriage and gently shaking at the traveler’s shoulder. “We’ve reached the church, traveler. Hey now, wake up.” He said in a gruff voice. 

The clutches of sleep were wrapped firmly around Fiona, ill willing to loosen their grip on her. Yet with the prompting of the coachman her eyes fluttered open slowly and she found herself looking at the gruff driver, squinting in the light of the lanturn. She ran her gloved hand along her forehead, grumbling slightly as she looked around to get her bearings. Her back was aching from the awkward sleeping position and she half wondered where she was. Then it was coming to her. 

Right. Istrel. She was heading to Istrel to answer the challenge issued by its countess. She rubbed her eyes and looked at her driver. “Sorry about that, sir. Has been a long trip.”

The man shrugged. “It's no issue, miss. I’d just hurry inside the Church if I were you. They say it’s a bad idea to linger long outside. Course, I know you adventurers like to sink your teeth into a challenge right away. Sister Ana should still be able to point you in the right direction.” He said. 

Fiona stood up and strapped her sword at her side. “Thanks for the advice and the ride. Hopefully I’ll be able to pay you a lot more by the time I’m done here eh?” She had a tired, but cheerful smile on her face as she offered him a small pouch of coins. 

The man took them as she climbed down from the carriage. Her boots hit the uneven stones of the road and she watched as the carriage was backed up and then started heading away through the fog. Soon enough not even its distant glow was visible, swallowed up into the eternal night of this region. Fiona stared after it for a few moments, taking a deep breath that chilled her to the bone. She looked around at the area. 

There was the Church of course, looming over her. It was a rather modest building of solid stone with icons of the Venerated here or there on it. A crucifix was affixed to the door. Its door was firmly shut and there was a slight glow from within, flickering candle lights suggesting the place was indeed inhabited. Stained glass windows depicted various saints of the Followers and divine miracles performed by their followers. 

All around the outside were a number of ruined structures. Wooden buildings rotted by the passage of time and the fell influence of the curse upon the region. Homes, stables, barns, all of them abandoned by whoever had once inhibited them. This was the village that had existed outside the city proper, existing in the shadow of Istrel. Fog rolled between them, obscuring anything from further out than a few hundred feet completely. 

Lastly, looking to the north up the road further one could see the faint shadows of vast walls looming above. That would be where Istrel would be. Fiona felt a chill course down her spine just looking in its general direction. She was not the first to have traveled here. She knew that well. In the past few months many storied and famous heroes and adventurers had come here to make their names and fortune. All to answer the challenge of one of the most foul creatures of the world. 

Countess Sera Lycromel was a legendary figure, a vampire centuries old. She had cursed the lands of her territory and wrapped it all in eternal night. Armies had thrown themselves at her walls and all had fallen. Yet a few months ago, foul servants of hers had delivered a message across all the land. It was a simple challenge. Within her castle there existed a treasury of riches, such vast wealth that could make kings and emperors appear paupers. The one to reach her treasury would be granted all of the wealth within it and free Istrel from its curse. 

It was a challenge unlike any other, enough to draw names both storied and unknown. Fiona was in the middle there. She had some renown in her home city as a warrior that could get things done. She had faced beasts and undead before, she made her name by deed and blade. The woman stood at a towering six foot height, blonde hair tied behind her head in a ponytail. She was rather pretty, though no grand beauty that would still the hearts of men. Her form was fit and wiry, the body of one hardly novice to the ways of battle. Her steely grey eyes looked in the direction of the accursed city and didn’t flinch. 

Of course it was a question of where she would start her journey in this land…

A-1: Fiona headed into the Church

B-1: Fiona explored around the ruins of the village

C-1: Fiona headed straight for the city.