Mount Baratok

North of the mountain lake, the trees begin their steady climb up the slopes of Mount Baratok, its monolithic presence oppressive at this distance. The ground here is rocky, uneven, and tiring to navigate. Even the wolves avoid this neck of the woods. Soon, you climb above the blanket of fog that engulfs the valley. Dark thunderclouds roll overhead. You see an elk standing on a rocky spur about sixty feet away. Suddenly, it assumes the form of a man in tattered black robes. His hair and beard are long, black, and streaked with gray, and his eyes crackle with eldritch power.