Oakenfalls

Oakenfalls is a medium-sized village nestled at the foot of a modest mountain. Surrounded by thick forests and stone-lined pathways, it serves as a quiet gateway between the wilds and the unknown heights above. The mountain itself stands like a sentinel, with a mighty Castle near the top that can be viewed from the village. A village of dark timber houses and moss-covered roofs, built along the rushing Halren River where it spills out of the mountains. Towering oaks surround the settlement like ancient guardians, their branches strung with lantern hooks used during the festival. Smoke curls from crooked chimneys, and the distant silhouette of a lonely mountain castle looms above the valley like a watching shadow. The inn sits at the bend of the village road near the river, where the smell of pine smoke and roasted meat always drifts into the street. The building is two stories of dark oak beams and riverstone, leaning slightly with age like an old man resting on a cane. Moss grows thick between the stones of the foundation, and crooked lantern posts line the front path. Above the door hangs the inn’s sign: A black iron kettle with a carved crow perched on its rim, wings half-spread as if ready to take flight. The wooden sign creaks constantly in the mountain wind. During the Lights Festival, dozens of glowing lanterns hang from the eaves and nearby oak branches, casting warm amber light over the muddy street. A small stable sits beside the inn, along with a woodshed stacked high with chopped mountain pine.