"Blood comes first."
-Common Astroyan Adage.

The tiny rowboat, barely large enough to fit the five of you, rolls with the waves, splashing you with icy water. The rising sun is barely visible behind dark clouds, leaving the world in twilight. A sharp wind cuts into you, penetrating your sopping clothes. The cold is unbearable. Then, the boat's hull scrapes against something. Stones. A rocky beach stretches into the horizon on either side of you, choppy grey water behind you, the dissipating fog hanging over it in twisting strands. A belt of low mountains looms over your little party, rubbed smooth by millennia of inclement weather. A few gnarled trees have dug their roots into the stone, but the mountains almost seem to have a life of their own, compensating for the sparse vegetation. Their stubby peaks reach toward the sky, caves and crevices honeycombing the mountainside. A person could retreat to those gloomy confines and reasonably expect to never be found. The only other sounds are gulls and the crashing waves.

The events of last night come back to you - the storm, the mast hurling itself into the ocean like a dying beast, the panicking crewmen, your escape on the lifeboat. Your last sight of the ship was its prow dipping beneath the raging waters. You spent the night aimlessly paddling, bailing water that seemed to come quicker than it could be removed, wishing for warm and safety. Occasionally you would see the outline of another lifeboat, shrouded in the thick fog. Whatever their final fate, it has not led them to this barren shore.

Ahead of you, a valley worms its way between the mountains, perhaps a half mile wide. Pale grass clings to the shallow earth, and a dirt path winds its way up to the valley's end, where around thirty, small stone houses are clustered together in a tight knot. No smokes rises from the chimneys, despite the frigid morning, and the village is utterly still. No one to be seen. Another, similar path leads directly into the mountains, its destination unclear, while yet one more path follows the beach east. Perhaps a minute's walk from your location, a narrow crevice delves into the mountainside, barely wide enough to allow a full-grown human passage. It seems deep. From somewhere in the mountains, to the village's west, a thin line of smoke rises. It could just be your imagination, but you think you see a tiny flicker of light. The boat shakes beneath you.

You have arrived in Astroya.