Cult Of The Bloody Pumpkin

The autumn wind whistles and blows through the branches of now barren trees. In the light of the harvest moon, orange and red leaves can be seen dancing through the streets; a tell-tale sign
of winter’s approach and summer’s end. As the party leaves the local tavern to make their way to the inn of this small village, they have chosen to stop at for the night, they hear strange chants originating beyond some thick bushes to the south of the village. Jet black clouds begin to form and swirl above what appears to be firelight in the distance, and a woman’s scream echoes out, pleading for mercy…