The Village

The Village of Penwick (pronounced Pen-ick) Gorge is a small, peninsular place, surrounded mostly by cliffs above its deep, eponymous gorge. The eldest remember a few brave merchants visiting, but these days none bother, as the only route out is marshy at best and underwater at worst, as the gorge’s flow often overruns the small spit of land connecting it to the wider world. Very few from the village have left over the years, and even fewer have returned or come from outside; those who do tend to arrive bedraggled, muddy, and usually bereft of any large possessions (as no vehicle can safely traverse the marshes).

The village itself is large, bordering on the size of a small town – arguably past that threshold, but the locals have called it a village for generations and harbour no plans to change. It consists of low, rolling hillocks around a rounded central valley; there are sparse vines on the southern hillsides, grown by a long lineage of purely hobbyist vintners. A Penwick vintage is one of the few things visitors have ever heard of, as it tends to be synonymous with very fine – if sparsely supplied – wine.

The other major feature of the village comes from its relationship to the gorge. An old stone bridge runs across it, but vanishes into the mists that rise almost constantly from the river below; the other side is never visible, though on a clear day it does seem that the bridge may be much longer than it seems. Still, no mountains ever peek above mist, so the folks of Penwick are reasonably sure that their modest hills are among the highest around.

Nobody in living memory – or at least, almost nobody – who has crossed the bridge all the way has ever found what lies on the other side. Most whose Ghosts don't bounce back get turned around in the mists and simply return, though whether this is genuine disorientation or last-minute nerves is a matter of some debate. Still, there is very little reason to cross; nothing ever comes from the other side, so the general opinion is that whatever lies there must be derelict or abandoned.

Besides its sparse orchards, gardens and vineyards, Penwick Gorge is largely sustained by fishing; local legend holds that any rod dipped below the level of the mists will return either with a fish, or with the end bitten clean off. And for generations, that has held true – though lately, fewer have been biting, a fact which concerns the most senior of the village greatly. There are rumours that the coming winter may well tax the village’s stockpiles, and some eyes are turning to the lower rungs of each family tree to make their names crossing the bridge in search of food.

Don’t worry, though. They’ll make sure you’re wrapped up warmly before you have to go.