So this takes place in a teeny-tiny town, not more than maybe 300 people not terribly high in the mountains, more near the base, but we are in a higher elevation than perhaps many of these folks have been to. No one knows the language beyond snippets and no one really knows each other. You may have heard of one another, but beyond that, nothing.
About the village:
The village, as stated above, is no more than maybe three hundred, and beyond that the rest are visitors. The village, it seems, is stuck in a time where there was no running water and things still needed to be hunted, to support the town itself. There is a butcher's shop, and a bakery, as well as a tavern/inn that's not meant to hold more than a few people at a time, but regardless, folks still squeeze in. There's several houses and farms in the are, though they farm mostly hardy things like wheat and some fruits to be traded to the merchants that come through two or three times a year.
There is a small town square with a fountain at the heart that the town idiot occasionally takes baths in. Houses line the area, usually small homes, with people who work as herbalists, and a witch or two, serving the guests that come through with tours and their eccentric behavior.
The Castle:
The castle is a dark looming thing, up a ways on the mountain overlooking the village with its darkness. It's built into the side of the mountain, dark and foreboding as it rises up over the people below it. Most folks are afraid of it, and won't go near it, but the bold few dare step into it, come back mad, or blithering idiots. The castle is full of many twists and turns and secret passageways that take the visitor all sorts of uncomfortable places. What lies within these walls has led to many a man/woman's undoing.
The Crew:
A crew of about five to six, a psychic to detect the dark vibrations within the town and the castle, an archaeologist/demon expert/historian (or any derivation thereof), one or two spiffy paranormal investigators, experts on ghosts, goblins, and things that go bump (thump, lump, hump, or otherwise) in the night, and the obligatory muscle to protect against those things that would haunt them, or even hurt them on the trail.
The Story:
The story is controlled by myself and Autruna. The way it works is the story plays and at points in the story there will be two choices, one that will be written by myself, or one by Autruna. There will be polls put up so that the players can choose which way the story goes. Popularity, of course, wins, and then Autruna, or myself will write the continuation thereof.
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