Seth sat on the Council of Elders of Amandrill. He was the youngest member to sit on the Council, with slicked-back black hair and greasy-looking eyebrows; those who looked upon him felt that their gaze was being slightly warped as it passed through the air directly surrounding his physical presence.
Seth, years ago, was a frail bookworm, and had a wife and three beautiful kids. They were a delight to the community, even though his oldest son was a little peculiar and his youngest son enjoyed tugging the family donkey’s tail at odd hours in the night, awakening the whole village. The common villagers were astonished after Seth returned alone after taking his family on a sudden trip to Qlidourriz, but they figured that his bizarre fascination with line-by-line regulatory legislation had finally driven his feisty wife to seek out a real man.
After he returned from that trip, he seemed a changed man. He cleared large quantities of arcane tax code books out of his house, and withdrew from the neighborhood book club after one disastrous session when, in a fit of literarage, he attempted to beat another man to death with a paperback copy of Qlidourriz Nights. Where before, he had been reserved and empathetic, he grew to be known for his brash disregard for others’ needs and his fiery temper. Other villagers observed him up at odd hours of the night, pacing around his den with the curtains drawn, muttering to himself.
When our intrepid adventurers approached the council with information concerning the dragonling venom farming operations in the nearby forest, Seth craftily led them to his private chambers, where he controlled the nearby guards and commanded them to attack the courageous travelers. He then attacked them himself, reanimating the guards’ corpses, and shifting shape to reveal that he was actually a transplanar werewolf warlock. Really.
The adventurers killed him, and retrieved from his belongings a magical cloak and a map to an unknown location in the forest, suspiciously worn. They also found incriminating vials of the same dragonling venom they had come to warn the council about. The weary adventurers then returned to their rooms at the inn, telling nobody what they had seen or did that day.
As they slept, the High Wizard Ith came upon Seth’s corpse, and decided to frame the travelers for his murder. It made sense; he had already ordered them to leave to seal the portal and end the dragonling venom farming operations, and it seemed to be the only way to avoid a frenzied, rioting mob of townspeople in the streets.
Our adventurers awoke to a frenzied, rioting mob of townspeople in the streets outside the inn where they were staying, brandishing torches and pitchforks and screaming for blood. The adventurers quickly fled, and Ith contacted them telepathically, asking them never to return. It was more important, as far as Amandrill was concerned, that the villagers live their lives ignorant of Seth’s disturbing transformation.