The path twisted onward through the leaning, creaking trunks of the trees surrounding them. Eventually, the trees opened into a small clearing of patchy grass and small boulders. Sitting in the middle of the clearing, upon a rock, was a man draped in a shabby cloak, hunched slightly as he sat there. In his hands, which were noticably gnarled, he held a battered looking scabbard, complete with a sword handle sticking out the top. They could not see his face from where they stood.