Near the western edge of the peaceful Elsir Vale, along the Dawn Way, on the south side of, and one of the only easy crossings for, the Elsir river, which holds back the Witchwood from the civilized lands, near the foot of the Wyrmsmoke Mountains, there lies the small, unassuming community of Drellin's Ferry. A town of a little more than a thousand souls, it's a pleasant farming community... and soon to be the site of a terrible disaster. But not for a couple of weeks, at the least.<br/><br/>It's hot. Midsummer has hit the Vale, and the air is hot and still. The route along the Dawn Way is quite monotonous; endless small hills, farms, and dusty, flyspeck towns. It's but a few miles from Drellin's Ferry, the last bastion of civilization before the Way crosses into the Witchwood. The road crests a small rise and descends into a dusty grove in a large, shallow dell. An abandoned farmhouse partially visible through the trees, stands on one side of the road. Anyone traveling the road has passed a dozen spots much like this one already today, but this one feels.. wrong. An overturned cart sits, in the middle of the road, and it looks like there's a body, slumped next to it, reins scattered, but no sign of the horse, that must've broken free.<br/><br/>(Perception check, DC 12: You spot a glint of metal, off in the woods, and then another, nearby; some group is waiting in ambush!)