As you leave the dark woods, clutching your trusty sword in your hands and still shaking from the harrowing battle you have just barely escaped, You gaze to the distance and see a small shack surrounded by old, withered wheat. Whoever was living in this shack had clearly left it long ago or had perhaps died and stopped attending his field. You are tired and hurting and in desperate need of rest; The shack will do. The door creaks open slowly, stretching and ripping a large amount of cobwebs as…