As the adventuring party made there way through the forests, it greeted them with deep growls of ancient trees and whispers from their children leaves, the soft and crisp padding of the dead beneath their feet rustled with each step. Upon reaching the small cliff, you notice a fire, its embers long put out, but still the faint aroma of smoke sits in the air.

Beside it lays a satchel of no notable worth, its linen embroidery crusted with a slash of dried blood.