You come across a gnarled old tree. Its roots churn and stretch, burrowing into the depths of the earth with archaic longing. Its arms reach to the sky, twisted in some old unknowable desperation. At the base of the tree are candles, forever lit by some strange power. Effigies and spells are set here for various purposes and for various reasons. Insects and grubs swarm the rotting offerings. This is the Shrine of Decay.