As you travel up a precarious, winding mountain road, the swirling fog and mists curl around your neck and ankles and seem to be picking at you. The air is thin but it seems too heavy to breathe. The looming mountains and grey mists keep the area in perpetual twilight. Gnarled, twisted trees creak and groan as they are tortured by the howling winds and the dank, damp breezes. Wolves, the 'children of the night' are heard baying not too far away. A hideous moss-colored sign covered with unidentifiable crawling things bids you:
Coming to a crossroad you hear a curious highpitched squeaking and sense a fluttering of wings nearby.
run: north west east
carefully look around
If you run South, you run into a wall.