The day has been a long and joyful occasion and the Harvest Festival is now drawing to a close. You and a few other Citizens of Grantonville stand around a dying bonfire with a full moon above you. Sheriff Silas GreenWraith raises a mug of ale up in the dying light and says, “A toast friends, May the coming harvest bring us good fortunes.” As his voice fades and you take a sip of the mulled apple cider, warm and seasoned with cinnamon, a feeling of contentment blossoms in your belly and sleep tugs at your mind. The gathering begins to break and most of the villagers begin their journey home leaving you and a close group of your friends to stand their in silent contemplation.
...
A long and anguished scream tears the quite of the night apart, shattering the solace that was felt only moments before. You glance around and see that the others are just as startled as you. Then you hear it again and realize that it is coming from the direction of the MourningStone Chapel.
