Few buildings still stood in Okly. Burnt Timbers were rampant though and they defied the pouring rain with their residual heat. All around were half eaten corpses of adult men and women, though some were bizarrely melted into the stone itself. From the center of the town anyone could here a strange and otherworldly chanting, though those few aware of such things would recognize the language as from the void itself. In the center of town were a large assortment of beings, maybe 50 in total. In the center of the square was charred and broken down monument to an old Okly hero, but around it were a group of ten figures in black cloaks. They faced it in a ring chanting, but their cloaks did little to hide the fact that underneath their bodies were misshapen with unnatural bulges in various places. The cloth did however, hide just what deformities each chanting figure had from closer inspection. North of the chanting cult was a group of ten motionless men in battered armor. Their skin was peeling and they reeked. The tallest of their member was the only one to move, his eyeless head moving as if to scan the perimeter and nothing else. To the east of the town monument was a group of around thirty human bandits in ragged leather and furs. They were all unkempt and talked amongst each other or else seemed utterly bored by the goings on. The biggest of their number, an unnaturally huge man who was as wide as he was tall and covered loosely in furs stomped his way up to the chanting circle with a disgusted look. "How much longer will this take?" he asked putting a hand on what one could assume was the leader of the chanting circle. The chanting stopped. The leader of the cloaks turned just its head to speak with the hulking bandit. "The whole reason we snuck out of the encampment was to worship the work of the magnificent creatures of your world. Your Dragons are so regal and magnificent. There's just nothing quite like them back home. Besides there's plenty of time left in the day to pillage the next town down the road."