Land of the Lost

No further werewolf or blight crossed their path as the party made their way through the never-changing fog. The continued search ended at the sight of the infamous tree, or at least what was left of it; mist billowed forth out of the scarred and scattered remains. Cautiously, one by one the adventurers strode forth till all disappeared…

From cavern deep the burnt tree transported the six to a meadow, covered thick in the mist. Krill began to lead the way; the desire to get out of the fog became desperation as a magical density grew, sucking their strength from their bodies. The ranger’s instincts guided them out, exhausted but alive. A muddy well-traveled road formed as the mist dissipated, the tracks left behind by wagon wheels assured them this was the way and off to the West they march their way home…or not as massive gates guarded by aging towering statues.

With no way but west to go the party trodded through; Hadrioul shivered at the finality as the gates closed behind them. West, west, west, and then… something from the North. Pulled by the unknown the group left the road and went into the ominous wood discovering a body and a note. Both served as a warning that evil was afoot, a fact that was underlined by an all too familiar sound of unholy wolves and lycanthrope. Quicker than a hare, Honu and the rest made their way back to the road and again strode into the sunset till they found an eerie town backlit by the dusky light.