"What in the world?" a voice came down from above, before a figure in red dropped down in front of Drek from out of one of the few trees with the fortune to still be standing. It was a young man, at least in his mid twenties, with long brown hair, dressed in an old, frayed, hooded coat of faded red. Swinging from his right arm was a sling containing what looked like a simple woodcutting ax, the wood of its shaft the same color as his coat. What was remarkable, however, was the horns.
Well, not really horns. Upon closer inspection the pair of short, stag like horns that pushed themselves up out of his forehead and snake their way around the sides of his skull, cradling it like a helmet, were actually made of wood. The same type of wood, in fact, as the shaft of his ax. From the base of these wooden horns what looked like a root system snaked its way under his skin, down his face and neck, to disappear beneath the collar of his coat.
And this freak had the nerve to look Drek over like he was the weird one. This look extended to the rest of the group, complete befuddlement plastering his face before it lit up with realization. "Wait, are you guys a guild? They actually sent somebody out?"