text: He was wandering in the forest the day he died. He came from a quaint little medieval town, the type that hadn’t ever seen any danger or evil. Well, apart from the legends. According to local folklore, there was something dreadful lurking in the forest nearby. At least, that’s what the elderly woman had said to him when he was just a child. Tybalt had grown up obsessed with the rumors, yearning to satisfy his curiosity. So, as a young adult he ignored all the warnings and set off on his “grand adventure”, enthralled with what he might find in the dark forest. Eventually, he discovered a hidden path through the forest, appearing man-made. He followed it deeper and deeper into the forest, as it got colder and colder and the trees got taller and taller, barely allowing any light in. It was at this point Tybalt started to get scared. What was he going to find here, really? Had he just made a massive mistake? In retrospect, yes. But, despite his fear, he kept going. He had to find out what was in this forest. He *needed* to. It was only when the whispering started that the idea of turning back came into his head. But there was no turning back now, he thought. He was here. A deep and dark cave, mysterious symbols carved into the walls? Whatever evil thing lives in this forest, it lives here. He entered the cave, his heart pounding as he took each step. As he walked further into the cave, the enigmatic carvings grew more frequent, until the whole cave, from the walls to the roof, was covered in them. Finally, he reached the end of the cave where a wooden door sat, begging to be opened. He put his hand on the doorknob, slowly turning it and opening the door. Whatever he was expecting, it definitely wasn’t this. He wasn’t even sure what *this* was. The chanting wasn’t in any language he had heard before and all the hoods and cloaks, the massive statue of some tentacled abomination, plus the dead goat on the altar really wasn’t helping. Cautiously, he backed away from the doorway and shut the door silently, his flight instinct kicking in. He had to get out of here, now. As it happens, he was correct in that regard. Getting out of here was the best option. Unfortunately, he was so focused on not making any noise closing the door that he hadn’t noticed the chanting had abruptly stopped. As soon as it was shut, he took off running and it was only then that he noticed the horrific clawing sounds coming from behind him. He didn’t know what these hooded figures were, but they didn’t seem human. They were all collectively babbling something, but the voices sounded twisted, distorted and...well, inhuman. Alas, Tybalt didn’t have long to contemplate what these things were, as they soon caught up with him. It didn’t take long for the village to work out what had happened to him. No one comes back from the forest. They simply classed him as “missing” and moved on. The same thing happened to many people over the course of history. Villagers and travelers would hear the rumors and, curious, venture alone into the forest, only to “go missing” because they interfered in our rituals. That’s why we started those rumors. It says those people taste the best.