On a sprawling mound of steel and rust and hate sits a clockwork castle, the technological dread that is a machineÃ¢??s delusion.
Sometimes a painting is just a painting.
This is not one of those times.
The PCs have been traveling for a long time down the same stretch or round with no sign of anything suspicious. As they cross over to the next hill they see a gigantic splater of blood with a bleached dragons scull in the center of it. It the dragon skull's mouth is a tattered backpack with something wiggling inside of it.