From Tsunami Wiki
Level Range: 4-6
The bard's face twists up into a grimace as if his drink had suddenly turned into vinegar. "Dung Hill Village...Now THERE is a poxed blight upon God's green earth if ever there was one...All right, youngster, I'll tell you a little tale of how good intentions can go ever so horribly wrong...". The chair creaks as the old bard leans back against the bard and strokes his beard with a faraway expression in his eyes. "A long time ago...and no, youngster, I don't know precisely how long.. There was a migration of a primitive people coming to our fair land. They were known to be fierce fighters, skilled hunters, and truly dedicated to their clans. What they liked was wild nature, the joy of the hunt, and the pounding excitement of war. What they didn't like, not one bit, was magic. And so, when they found themselves here, having run into the odd pyromancer or evoker, and making the aquaintance of the other people in existence here, there were great arguments. Some decided the place was too scary, others that there would be room for them too...and a small family, already held in scorn by the rest, decided to abandon their heritage and follow a charismatic leader they had found among the extant population of Tsunami. This leader, a fallen priest, apparently led them to the island of Gladstadt, infecting them along the way with his own rabid xenophobia and general hatred of everything not already known." The bard sighs and takes another swallow of his drink. "Apparently, one of his ideas was that mixing a pure bloodline with outsiders would dilute the quality of his followers and so he began a policy of isolation which led to the current inhabitants of Dung Hill. A small and stagnant community, inbred and festering, thriving on its own evil, and forsaking all learning and any new ideas according to their warped ideal of 'superiority'." The bard tosses down the rest of his drink and fixes you with a hard stare. "If you go there, youngster, see to it your weapons are sharp and that you do not turn your back upon them. A colleague of mine passed through there on his way somewhere else and found the place to be even worse than we could imagine. It is a hell on earth, Dung Hill village...be sure not to overstay your welcome." The bard ponders a while, then speaks: "If you absolutely feel you have to go there, just take the ferry to the Gladstadt dock, go 2 north, 2 west, then northwest... you'll find the village beginning a bit down the westward path through the fog..."