Bushes rustled and dry branches cracked as an aged figure made its way through the forest, a continuing stream of curses streaming from it. Upon closer inspection, one would find a man, kicking and showing through the forest, leaning on a wooden staff. Never had he experienced such a cursed place! Each tree like the next, with no markers to follow, only the same canopy, the same trunks and the same flora all around him. There had to be a way out of this damnable forest. Why had he chosen to enter this again? Ah, yes, the hope of finding elves. He had heard they were kinder than humans. So far the closest thing to an elf he had encountered, was a particularly pointy eared mouse, which he promptly immobilized and cooked. What little sustenance it had offered would at least keep him alive. 

The forest grew still. That was new. The sorcerer looked around him, his eyes narrowed to catch any intruder in this serene, albeit dreadfully massive, place. Something moved at the corner of his eye. He turned and raised his staff, feeling the usual calm before a fight. But something was amiss. Fire rolled up his staff, lightning the gemstone it held; it usually kept critters of all sizes away.
Not this one.
Moments before the thing charged, he turned and ran. Anything not afraid of fire and the power of a sorcerer should not be challenged. He ran as fast as his weakened body would allow him, crashing through bushes and past trees. 

Light. Glorious daylight. His run slowed to a brisk walk, his lungs working like bellows to keep him afoot. Was that an inn? He had seen one, many years ago. An inn meant people. People meant he had to watch his moves very carefully. Draften put his staff to the ground and assumed a slow walk, more suited for the age he appeared. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, from both the run and the sting of fear he felt. There was another sting as well, he only just noticed it. Looking down his right side, he found a red patch slowly spreading.

"Blasted forest!" he exclaimed, now feeling the pain of whatever branch or thorn had cut him. It had cut deep. With firm, albeit weakened steps, he made his way to the door of the establishment and shoved it open.

"Help for a wounded elder?" he called. Then he looked up and was taken aback by the number of people in here. And what a strange collection they were. He blinked. Was his vision fading? Glancing down at his side, he noticed that the patch had grown larger. "Blasted forest..." he muttered to himself. This would be an adventure for sure, if he managed to not bleed to death here on the front steps.