Horror at Dagger Rock
Welcome to Relford
As you crest the rise, the settlement of Relford comes into view. Beyond, the shadowy pinnacle of Dagger Rock sits starkly upon the hills behind the village, pointing accusingly at the grey sky. Dark clouds rumble and a fork of lightning briefly catches your eye. Perhaps there is a promise of rain. The land needs it, this is a desolate place. Drought has stricken these once-verdant hinterlands since the Rel River stopped flowing, diverted by the earthquake last year. You can see the forked, jagged scar where once the river flowed, cutting through the earth. A number of farms sit on the outskirts of Relford, nursing dry and yellow crops. There is a mine in the hills to the south, sitting in the dark shadow of Dagger Rock. The city states along the coast prize the garnets, amethysts, and aquamarines the mine yields yearly. However, the mine shut down last year when a tunnel collapsed, killing nine miners. The mine never reopened, and folk say things have not been the same since. Some people have packed up and left, others have simply disappeared. It is said that between the dark and dead trees of the hills, inhuman tribes lurk, preying on the unwary. Surely such talk is fanciful, and just folk seeking to blame superstition for the hard times that have fallen upon Relford.