Song Day, 9th of Bright, 7728. Dry Season.

The refugee village is Kettledark is a humble but well-loved place. To an outside observer, it is but a few hovels spoiling an otherwise lovely hill. Few draw close enough to realize the grassy berm conceals a deep crater, populated by a cozy village shielded from the gaze of the Stranger or the roaming hordes of Husks that roam the Shuddering Grasses.

Tonight, it is Dustset. There are no grand parades, but there will be festivities and masks for all.