As you travel along the old, winding, mud caked, and dilapidated road a cold wind begins whipping sleet at you that tears at your cloaks. The moon is shrouded behind a gray haze, and you hear wolves baying in the dark woods all around. Against the dusky sky, you can just make out the shadow of a low tower across a bridge in the distance. A lantern burns in one of its windows violently swaying back and forth in the heavy wind, beckoning you all toward the safety of shelter.