The ramshackle town of Falcon’s Hollow is a wild place that rests perilously close to the infamous Darkmoon Vale. Nestled in the shadow of Drokar’s crag the shadow of nearby mountains casts a shroud of gloom on the desperate souls who call this place home. It is a place of hardship broken only occasionally by a festival or an infrequent merchant caravan. The people of the tiny village face constant adversity from both the wilderness and the wiles of man. Wolves nip at their heels and cutpurses ply at their pockets.
Still many are drawn here to make their fortune cutting darkwood lumber in the lush forests of the vale. They are undaunted by the mist that hides the feral beasts, trolls and the restless souls of the dead that roam the forest.
Others journey to these remote fringes to start over, cobbling together their shattered lives on the edge of an untouched wilderness far from the things of man. The remoteness also attracts persecuted zealots and outcasts. Here, these fanatics practice their strange and often deviant rites unfettered by the mores of civilization.
Regardless of the reason they choose this town as their home all have heard the legends that below the rocky slopes of Droskar’s crag lies a once great dwarven kingdom full of unsurpassed treasures but also an ancient evil.