The rain poured down upon the land around the town of Argos. It's been that way for weeks. The year's crop has been ruined, and the farmers have moved on to find work somewhere more habitable. The remaining townsfolk have resolved themselves to paying more for importing food from outside the town. They were, after all, making a decent living off the travelers who frequented the area around Norbal.
Norbal.
No one calls it that any more. Not since Deezil disappeared. Nowadays they just call it the Chaos Dungeon. They say it used to be an Elven outpost once, during the last age. An ideal location at the junction of three major trade routes. Norbal had fallen to ruin and decay long before an adventuring party, which included an ambitious and talented young Gnome Wizard named Deezil, traveled deep inside in search of an artifact of great power. Whether they found it or not is unknown, but the adventurers that survived brought with them great riches and fantastic tales of adventure.
When Deezil returned, he petitioned the king for a chance to purchase Norbal and the immediate surrounding lands. It is said that Deezil spent his entire share of the profits of the venture in the purchase. He then descended again into Norbal, this time alone, and wasn't heard from for a year. The day he emerged was the day he chased a Balor out of Norbal's entrance; heading toward Argos. He was able to defeat the demon before it reached the city limits, but not before it killed a local farmer and his young daughter on their way to the market.
Deezil seemed uncharacteristically morose at the vigil held in the farmer's honor. He drank heavily, and began muttering about "losing control of the pacing" and "won't let it happen again". He left Argos that very night to return to Norbal. He returned once each year on the anniversary of the battle with the Balor for four years. Each year his skill in the arcane arts grew. He was even capable of casting divine spells. He proved this by raising the farmer and his daughter from the dead.
He then gave the farmer the deed to Norbal and explained to him that the artifact that Deezil and his fellow adventurers were seeking has created a zone of pure chaos. The effect created life within its area, and altered those who existed within. One could be a Dwarf one day, and a Human the next. It was incredibly dangerous, but also very lucrative. It created gems and precious metals as often as it created Goblins and demons. This effect was restricted to the interior of Norbal, but, as the Balor had proven, the inhabitants were not restricted to the interior. Deezil then called out to his former companions for aid in stopping the artifact. Otherwise, those living outside Norbal would have to enter occasionally to cull the area of dangerous creatures. Three of Deezil's former adventuring party responded to his call; and together they entered the dungeon in an attempt to stop the artifact once and for all.
That was 18 months ago.
All had been quiet in the months that followed their entry. So quiet, in fact, that many believed that Deezil's mission was a success. But lately whispers are passed among the townsfolk that strange noises are heard at night and around the entrance to Norbal. A fisherman has reported his son has gone missing. The locals have begun dumping the bodies of the dead, wrapped in funeral linens, into the mouth of the entrance, as an offering to those inside to suggest they stay there. And a Goblin appeared at the inn carrying a large sack full of ancient gold coins, claiming he earned them in Norbal itself.
These rumors are what drew you to the Steel Staff, the inn in Argos named after Deezil's favorite implement. A metal staff sits in a wooden case over the hearthfire. The fare is richer than most, which is to be expected on main trade routes. The innkeeper is a woman named Gladuse, though she insists you call her Glad. The name fits her disposition well enough. She smiles when she's not biting her lower lip. A Bard in the far corner strums a lute quietly to tune it. A couple of the locals mill about, mostly keeping to themselves, though a small group of them are in a corner engaging in some form of social gathering.
The next escort to the entrance of the dungeon doesn't leave until morning. The lawman, Ward, insists on taking groups himself to maintain the process.
