THAT NIGHT, I LET THE CANDLE IN MY ROOM BURN LONGER THAN USUAL.įROM THE MEMOIRS OF SISTER VAUGHN OF CRESTWOOD WERE THOSE FOOTSTEPS PADDING AWAY INTO THE DARK I HEARD THEN, OR A STARTLED ANIMAL? DROPPING MY WALKING STAFF, I SPIED AN OVERGROWN OPENING TO A SMALL CAVERN.

THE NIGHT WAS CLEAR, AND I WAS WENDING DOWN A PLEASANT GLADE IN THE HILLS WHEN I HEARD A RASPING HISS. I SCOFFED, THEN WENT FOR A STROLLAROUND THE AREA. THE LOCALS TOLD ME TALES OF STRANGE NOISES AND EERIE LIGHTS, OF ENTIRE EXPEDITIONS SWALLOWED BY UNDERGROUND FISSURES, OF SCREAMS IN THE DARK THAT COME FROM NOWHERE AND RETURN, JUST AS SWIFTLY, TO NOTHING. I WAS SURPRISED TO LEARN THAT A VAST CAVE SYSTEM RIDDLES THE LAND SURROUNDING CRESTWOOD. I WAS DINING ALONE AT THE LOCAL INN, WHICH IS QUAINTLY PERCHED ON THE TOP OF A DAM, WHEN I OVERHEARD THE BARMAN MENTION TUNNELS BENEATH THE VILLAGE. RESIDENTS TEND LIVESTOCK AND GROW WHAT CROPS THEY CAN, BUT THEIR CHIEF INcoME coMEs FROM TRADE. THE PEOPLE ARE GLAD FOR VISITORS, HOWEVER.

FROM THE DIARY OF A TRAVELER FROM VAL CHEVIN, DATED THREE MONTHS BEFORE THE START OF THE FIFTH BLIGHTĬRESTWOOD IS A SMALL WILLAGE OF NO REAL CONSEQUENCE TO THE LORDS AND LADIES WHO RIDE THROUGH ON THEIR WAY TO VAL ROYEAUX OR DENERIM.