In the great lake of Ture are hundreds of islands of various sizes, and not all have been completely explored by the Modern Races. One such island, with rough and craggy coastlines discouraging landing, is quite remarkable and worth a visit.
Another continuatio of the heroes’ journey through Daemonland.
An ancient spirit known as the Elephant God said to them “Thou hath defeated me, and thou shalt have thy prize: All the valleys and forest beyond yon cliff art for thou and thine.” Having beaten the not-so-malevolent spirit and laid it to rest, the heroes now stand at the edge of the greatest cliff in all the world. The land they see is know theirs, but what does it hold?
An insidious creature, most likely somehow "related" to trappers and lurkers, the Dead Leaves (for no other name exists as of yet for this foul thing), hibernates for three of the four year's seasons, deep underground. Its active time is Autumn, when trees shed their leaves, depositing colorful carpets across the ground. The terror then emerges and blends in with the surrounding leaves, perfectly camouflaged, waiting patiently for unsuspecting victims. In appearance it resembles nothing more than a ten foot square, six inch thick, layer of bright yellow, orange, and red leaves. The only hint that someone is walking on top of it, comes in the form of an unusual amplified sound of leaves crunching underfoot. Too late usually, the victims notice this additional "crunch". The Dead Leaves will then swirl and "rise" up to smother and suffocate the victim, like a colorful, malevolent, boa constrictor.
Fire, as can be imagined, is particularly effective against this creature, but one has to *know* it's there before putting it to the torch. And there's the rub. The creature is impossible to "identify" in a large patch of fallen leaves by eyesight alone.