"Protect us, oh holy one,
from the dangers of the night
may your smoke and ashes
to our souls with clarity ignite"
On an Alien World where life last 100s of years and memories only a decade, a cult has arisen that defines truth only as what is under the sun.
They will serve up the Light to appease their dark gods.
The PCs have travelled long and far. As nightfall approaches a mighty storm is unleashed. Luckily there is a lush wood nearby the path.
A good shelter for the rage of the unnamed weather gods it seams at first. As the PCs enter under the roof of this dense wood, they are welcomed by only a few drops wich is allowed trough the thick forest crown. A fire is offcourse required to warm the weary bones of the travellers. As one of the party is set to the task of collecting firewood the others settle down at a suitable location. But alas, they did not know the perils of this forest. But it seems clear to the rest of the party that something ill is at work as the woodcutters scream echo from afar.