A seaside town is plagued by crows. Dark birds nesting in the roofs by the hundreds, cawing at all hours of the night, and ominously following the residents. They call Wraithvine {who might bring someone along if ze feels like it} to save them. For surely this is an omen of impending doom. --Deathhead419
Murder was afoot in Shorevale. It was also a-wing, nesting, and being a general pest, because crows had decided to infest the entire little fishing village. They had forced out the usual plague of seagulls, but the downside was that they had taken over the seagull's general tasks of low-grade menace.
This was a job for a hero. Or at least someone who could unriddle such unusual occurrences.
Enter Wraithvine, and a diminutive companion of uncertain heritage clinging to the name of Scruff.
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