The shambling remains of a bridge stand in front of you, although the river it once covered is long gone. Great stone supports jut out at an angle, caught in a slow, centuries-long fall as the Deepwood pulls the structure in.

A Bastone guard stands on the bridge. He has heard your approach. In one hand, he holds a drawn sword. In the other, gripped tightly, is a church talisman. His stance is shaky and his face is caked in mud and blood. Several other guards lay about, but there are no signs of life left in their scattered remains.

"Stand back," he shouts pointing his sword shakily toward you.

As you emerge from the woods, he sees who you are. He lowers the sword to his side and leans heavily against one of the stone supports.

"I thought you were them. Come to finish the job."

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