A weak, strangled cry leaves the Captain as he’s permeated by spirits, and though he maintains his footing, he clearly goes away for a few moments, seeming to return to his senses a little later than most. He lags behind slightly as they proceed, and as they draw nearer to the glowing semicircle...

the smell hits them.

The ripeness of death, bodies thrown in a shallow pit, half-devoured by wildlife. Bodies of all sizes, few features still recognizable, a nose here, a braid there. At least twenty of them, and if anyone dares venture closer, the further down they go, the more desiccated they are.

The spirits are completely still. Waiting.