Entero Island is located in the more frigid reaches of the Sea of Os’r, and is quite cold year-round. Ice can often be seen in the surrounding waters, and the prevailing current comes from the north. There is only a single village on the island, and it is self-sufficient in its needs for food, clothing and shelter. Due to the proclivities of the inhabitants, no luxury goods find a market here. Thus, due to these factors, the tiny island is not a destination for traders or their ships. Once upon the island, adventurers without other means of travel at their disposal could find themselves in for a very long stay indeed.
a - the village
If the village once had a proper name of its own, it long ago died of neglect. The residents do not travel, do not speak of other lands, and live but in this single locale. The few items which cannot be produced on the island (there is no metal-bearing ore, for example) are well cared for, and passed down as heirlooms. They live in yurt-like but stationary huts, in family groups of 4 - 7. There are currently a total of 37 adults in the village, living in 15 huts.
Due to their arduous lifestyle, all the adults are at least equal to level 1 fighters, with a handful being equal to level 2. This hardiness can easily be scaled upward by as much as 2 levels, depending on the strengths of the adventurers. None should be above level 4, however, and all will be equal to a fighter.
The solitary domestic animals on the island are the herd of goats, which belong in common to all the residents. These goats are largely left to roam the island as they see fit, with only a few of the females kept in simple pens around the village for milk.
When approached, these people will not seem overly surprised by new arrivals to their island. Neither will they be hostile, but they will not seem friendly either. Their most common form of social intercourse with strangers will take the form of leisurely assessing stares. If pressed, they will speak as succinctly as possible, though preferring mild grunts (“hmmm..”) shrugs and nods. Although they have personal names, they will not use or share these in the presence of strangers. Overtures of friendship will meet with vaguely distrustful indifference, even from children, while threats and acts of violence will generally meet with measured, calm flight.
Under their quiet veneer, all the residents immediately see any strangers (and their gear) as a mere resource to be exploited. All that remains is to determine how best they might be used. As soon as they can get away unnoticed, a group of 1d4+2 adults will go to area ‘d’ in an attempt to get advice from their Sea Mother. If unmolested, they return bearing her dire wisdom in just under 2 hours.
If their plots proceed apace, the player characters will be treated to a feast of shellfish, crab, a richly tasty goat cheese, a large white root (similar to yucca) baked under the open fire and served like a baked potato, unleavened bread, and even a heavy chowder made from the preceding. All this out on the beach, in front of a roaring fire of driftwood. Nonetheless, the countenances of the many gathered villagers, upwards of a dozen in attendance, remain as before - slightly wary, unemotional and watching.
The goal of the villagers here is to put the player-characters soundly to sleep, their bellies full of heavy provender, cozied up to a roaring fire on a chilly beach. If none stay awake, they next find themselves secured to sacrificial stones at area ‘b.’
If, on the other hand, the adventurers always maintain at least one person awake, the villagers will continue to bide their time. They will provide space in one of their dwellings for the player-characters to sleep, but at least two villagers will be inside with them at all times. The feasts will continue for the next two nights before another group of villagers goes back to area ‘d’ for more advice. This further advice should be determined by the DM, as based on the remainder of this information and the progress of play up to that point.