Squish, Squish. Squish.
Bogmoors has been here for 721 years. It started with an ale stop for the Imperial invaders. From there it has been a similar stop for every wave of invaders since then, as well as every local for a good walk’s distance.
A party of adventurers walk along late on an open plain, on a moonless night. Abruptly, War screams, the clanging of metal and death-cries are heard. It is an open plain, and nothing is seen, but the sound of a huge battle is all about them. The sounds continue for a half hour before stopping as suddenly as they started. What was it? Perhaps the ghouls of a long-gone battle, reliving their unfortunate last memories...