After a long day’s travel through the lonely glens and dark woods of northern Cairn Kainen, you are finally drawing near to civilization again. A signpost on the road indicates that the small settlement of Loch Finnere lies only three miles ahead. A low sliver of daylight still lingers in the western sky, but dusk is rapidly approaching. The evening is cold and gloomy, and a chill mist seems to gather beneath the branches of the black, tangled forest beneath the hills. There is a tangible aura of menace in the air, but you cannot find its source.
Suddenly the brooding dusk is broken by the sharp report of a pistol shot from the woods on the west side of the road, then a second shot. A moment later, you hear the clash of steel against steel!
The misty forest feels unnaturally cold. The black trunks and bare branches seem to drip with menace. Up ahead you spy a small clearing. A pair of men stand back to back with broadswords drawn, defending themselves against several ghostly apparitions!
The men are dressed in kilts and jackets; one is a young, red-headed fellow, and the other is a grizzled veteran with streaks of gray in his brown beard. The dreadful specters attacking them look like skeletons clad in the tatters of highland garb, wielding ghostly swords that ring and clash hollowly when they meet the living men’s blades.