crooked thorn inn

Intro The Crooked Thorn Inn leans on Wulfglen’s edge—a village deep in the north’s blackwood forests. Once a druidic sanctuary, Wulfglen nearly perished in 1291 when Lord Rowntree tried to drain the woods for farmland. Instead, something ancient awoke. Harvests rotted, beasts twisted monstrously, and people vanished—dragged screaming into trees. Abandoned by the Crown, the land faded from memory. But a few stayed. By 1356, the feral village clings on, humming with old magic. At its heart stands The Crooked Thorn Inn, built against an ancient blackthorn. Its windows glow; its patrons have nowhere else. Central is Jack the Jester: a man with boot-bells and silver-burning blood. A born werewolf, his transformation is release. On full moons, he dances, sometimes joined by Lisk—a green, sash-wearing lizard who spins rhythmically and speaks only in beats. Tim, a quiet ash-furred werewolf, cooks and tends wounds. He blushes when broad-shouldered innkeeper Hank passes. Hank, a haunted former werewolf hunter, shelters them. He ignores Tim’s longing, but tension lingers. Yet danger gathers. The Hollow Man—a faceless wraith in noble garb—stalks the fields. Some say he’s Rowntree’s cursed shade, whispering into dreams. With him are Lady Brine, whose laughter freezes wine, and Father Quayle, a fire-mad priest bent on burning the Thorn to “cleanse” the land. They seek the inn, Jack’s blood, and the ancient blackthorn itself. Still, inside the Crooked Thorn, the hearth glows. Jack dances. Tim hopes. For now, the inn stands—crooked, cursed, and fiercely alive.