Caraguis is an idylic little village, deep in the wine country. It is like the traveller was walked into a Maxwell Parish picture. It is on what was once a main road, but the newer road takes you to the important places quicker. Yet if you are taking in the beauty of the hills and valley or avoiding people on the main road, you will encounter Caraguis.

Other than an Inn which seems larger than one would expect, the village is what you would expect. The plaster covered buildings, in their pastel colors, with tile roofs house farm workers, winesmiths, and other crafters. The village has not suffered much from the lack of travellers, over the last few decades. It supports itself upon it own crops. While the wines are not the best, they are certainly a far cut above the norm, thus consumed by nobles and rich merchants alike.

Being somewhat centrally located, Caraguis is the place where the local harvest festival is held. Once a year, after the bulk of the grapes have been harvested, people gather together to drink wine and talk about the year. Once a year, the inn overflows as do most of the houses (as relatives come and stay). It is a time full of laughter and good cheer, in a place which has more than its fair share the whole year long. It is a good time of the year to be passing though.

Not too far out of town is a nice villa. The Don (Big One) is what the locals call him. His real name is… well you don’t need to know his real name. If you heard it, you would know it. He is known for heroic deeds. He has saved the King numerous times. He stopped great Evils and slowed the advance of armies to a halt. He is a man of legends (and legendary abilities). People from other lands and languages have heard of him. He is now taking his ease in this quiet town.

Now he lives a desperately quiet life in a quaint villa. He is with his third wife, having lost several loves along the way of his adventerous life. She is quite a bit younger than he (but still older than most people), but she fell for him on one of his last escapades. His son from a pervious marriage is the spitting image of the Don, but without the bold adventurous will of his father. Their daughter has all of her mothers incredible beauty (which as faded a touch over the years) and her father’s passion and will. She is quite the problem child.

Old companions and heroes of other times quietly make their way here to visit and tell tall tales (since they were there… they know what happened). Younger adventerous sorts occasionally find there way here (requiring the direction of an older adventurer or special sage) to get advice from the great one. They are told to be quiet and secretive in their travels.

The Don lives in quiet desperation. He lives in fear that one of his old foes (or their children or minions) will come for him and destroy this idyllic place in the process.

The village is not far from Zardee. It is ironic that The Don’s most unplacable foes should be just down the road taking his leisure as well.

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