You've been scrambling about the sprawling, grassy mediterranean cliffsides of the outskirts of Etros for most of the day now, gathering rare herbs that only grow at the highest, coldest points.

For most of the year, the cliffs are nesting grounds for the monster girls known as harpies: winged women who soar gracefully, predatorily down from their mountaintop nests, in search of human mates that might be caught unaware as they travel the winding wild trails of Etros. Luckily for you, and as far as you know, all of the harpies that reside here should have flown south for the fall, putting you at minimal risk of being snatched up and becoming some lusty, feathery maidens nest and body warmer.

You've been strolling around empty handed all day, but a small stream trickling through a well traveled looking outcrop of boulders catches your eye, the perfect spot to find what you seek. As you approach, you realize that the outcrop leads further in and through a crevasse in the mountain, giving you a glimpse of a small, charming looking meadow nestled secretly within. Something catches your ear as well; shrill, ringing song echoes through the pass, gently at first, but soon all you hear is sweet, feminine vocalization and silky smooth strings as you unconsciously head toward the sound. Moving deeper still, a sweet fragrance floods your nose, like all the flowers of spring, coated in honey and blooming before your nose; and before you know it, you end up stumbling in your daze—splashing head first into the shallow pond that the stream feeds from.

A squawk belts out from somewhere beside you, and the music comes to a halt, but is soon followed by gentle laughter just as sweet as the song. A Gandharva, radiating all the colors of sunset and autumn across her feathers, sits smiling daintily at you and clutching a guitar. Her tanned body is luscious, and alluringly bare before you as one of her golden taloned feet takes a curious step in your direction.