From the introduction:
You have been traveling with a merchant caravan for two weeks through rolling hills and quiet forests. It's early autumn and the trip has been pleasant and uneventful, aside from a few heavy rains washing out the road. Whether a passenger, a guard, or just a tagalong, you've enjoyed the relative security of venturing forth in the company of three dozen people.
Shortly after midday, the lead wagon of the caravan unexpectedly breaks from the road and guides the other carts to huddle up like a half-curled caterpillar. The merchants and guards who have been with the caravan the longest begin muttering excitedly amongst themselves, and you overhear that there is a small fall festival here, a few hours out from the next town. The caravan will continue tomorrow morning, but for now, a break in routine is welcome.
Your fellows are already disembarking, settling the mules and anchoring the carts before funneling towards a gap in the trees. Warmly greeting each of them is a short, plump human man whose ruddy brown skin and neatly-combed black hair are set off by a stunningly embroidered silk sherwani suit in crimson and gold. Past him, you can see the little faire--just a cluster of wooden booths and colorful oilcloth awnings scattered about in a tree-ringed clearing just off the road.
When you reach him, he gives you an earnest smile, an enthusiastic handshake, and a quick bow. "Welcome to Tanglewood Faire, friend! I am Rasud Ikha! Do not hesitate to ask me if you have questions about our humble festival!"
It's a lovely day, bright and cool, and you have a few spare coins in your pouch. Why not have a little fun?