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.

Welcome, adventuerers!

Under the stoic gaze of the timeworn Mountain, the Hollow folk roam the grasses, staring into their blue bonfires and calling for their loved ones to join them. The village of Kettledark lives, peacefully concealed, packed within a crater disguised as a hill. From the birdhouse, fletchwind archers, scanned the horizon for trouble, while the mushroom forgers provide abundant food for the inhabitants. Here is Home, though he does not come easy.