Faux nods his assent as well and picks up Andromeda.
The group slowly makes their way forward, following Inquistor’s trail of decay. The webs only seems to become thicker, often tripping up Chariot as his light steps seem to allow it to accumulate and stick his hooves together… somehow. It’s quite impressive if you think about it.
As the trek continues on, the group notices something else that’s unnatural in the supposed feywild. Not a single sound was being made (aside from the muttered curses of Chariot). No chittering of insects, no leaves rustling in the breeze, no animals. Absolute silence.
The group, after a good hour of walking, stumble into a clearing. Straight into another nightmare. In this small clearing free of trees, are dozens upon dozens of bodies. Their size and skin color are varied, as are their style of clothing ( if any), the materials are all plantlike. Many of the bodies are crumbling away, withered as if the life had been sucked right out of them. Others appear to be gutted, blood pooling into the dead grass. The smaller ones have been smashed their limbs twisted at odd angles.
Fey, the spirits of the forest. Nyaids, Dryaids, sprites, pixies, all those little fairytale creatures. All dead.
