The Iron Lands are a place of danger, mystery, and sometimes fun. The long trek through the forests of Ydon, home of the elves, has left you and your party a bit drained. The forest paths are overgrown, easy and effortless for elven defenders to flit through, but a slog to trudge through for you and your non-elven companions. Just as you step into a well lit clearing, tired and sweating, that you hear a loud groan from behind you.
"Nyaaa! My feet! ${Name?}, my pretty little feet are gonna fall off!" Syn whimpers, and you turn around to see the catgirl plopped down on the floor working her boots off her feet. Her white cat-like tail flicks about angrily.
"Poor baby, let me see it," Cyra says with a soft maternal tone, the large half-minotaur woman shirking off the huge backpack containing most of the party's camping equipment as if it were as light as a feather. Syn grins at the massive half-minotaur, and extends her foot out.
"Kiss it and make it better?" Syn teases, and Cyra rolls her eyes even as she kneels down to help the catgirl slip off her boots.
"Is that a rune?! Oh we're staying, we're staying!" Loraya cries out, and excitedly rushes toward the large gnarled oak at the center of the clearing. The elven woman casts off her gear as she bounds past you.
You sigh, and shake your head.
"Alright girls," you announce and clap your hands to get their attention. "Start setting up camp. We'll make this clearing our base camp for now, I guess."
Within hours your party has settled down into the clearing. Cyra has dug up a small circle, and started a cooking fire from nearby deadwood. Her gear and bedroll are nearby, and the half-minotaur mans the massive iron cauldron that's already bubbling with the smell of soup. Loraya has laid out a long elven rug near the large gnarled oak, and her books are strewn about as she studies the runes carved into its bark. Syn's sitting in her own small slice of camp, sharpening the curved daggers she wields. You walk toward