Deep in the wilds of Tusmorke Skoven, night falls over the forest. Suddenly, a man's incomprehensible, echoed shouting can be heard emanating from within the waterfall cave commonly known among the adventuring circles as "The Cursts Cave." A near-blinding flash of light erupts from within, and a cackling laugh follows, along with the clanging sounds of brief swordplay.
Mere moments later, three figures burst from the cave mouth and scatter into the darkness, looks of complete and abject terror upon each of their faces. A bare-armed man in brownish leathers with a bright green parrot and a raven-haired woman in black leathers clutching a short bow dart off to the south toward Ramulai, while a man in a red kilt, clutching the broken & lifeless body of a diminutive, red-haired elven lass darts off to the north at a completely unnatural pace. Not far behind, a misty figure darts swiftly among the nearly bare, late autumn trees & shrubs, flitting in and out of sight in pursuit.
A cackling laugh echos through the pines, accompanied by taunting cries toward the man as he flees.
Minutes later, silence...