As a thick, depressing fog suffocates the wooded valley; the rain and sleet beat down upon a desolate path. The birds are silent and the rain's hiss is barely noticeable. It's been raining for hours and it seems as though all of nature is holding its breath; waiting; though what for is a bit harder to tell. The trees' branches lean far down with the weight of hourly repetitive pounding from the raindrops within the clouds above - which show no signs of being ready to stop. A bird chirps suddenly from somewhere in the pines, but the rain makes it impossible to tell where it is coming from. There are tracks in the mud, though they are swiftly fading as the rain storm continues. A herd of elk passed this way some time ago; though it is difficult to tell when and how many there were. Though it may not have been too long ago, given the strength of the present storm. But they are not the only ones and their pursuer - for it is clear enough that the other set of tracks belongs to a predator of the elk; be it wolf, large cat, or human - 's tracks are difficult enough to see that one thing else and only one is clear. It has the element of stealth and therefore surprise on its hand. However, there is blood in the tracks, and if one follows them quickly enough; before the rain washes them away; they would see the amount of blood growing as the trail stretches on. The predator is bleeding, and badly. He may have gained the wound in an earlier confrontation with the elk herd or it may have come from somewhere else entirely. It matters very little. Either way, the predator will be dead soon. If someone were to follow the tracks for long enough, they would probably find the dead body of the stalking predator. There is blood everywhere and the lightning flashes; illumining a pale face surrounded by cuts and bruises. A delicately carved harp is clutched in his right hand and in his left - a sword stained with blood. His ears are pointed and he is dead.