The march over to the cemetary doesn't seem to take very long, though the long hand of the clock on Westering Tower makes more than three-quarters of its circuit before the group arrived outside of the black iron wrought fences that surround the dreary plot of land. Despite the weather being abnormally warm, a chill runs down each of your backs as you regard the field of tombstones, mausoleums and crypts populate it. They seem long forgotten.
The entrance is a rusting arched gate that swings idly ajar, and sound seems strangely muted within the confines of the graveyard. Beyond the gate, to the right, you can see a row of stone and marble crypts where the weathly have paid to make their final resting grounds, and to the right sits a lonely wooden shack. It is adjacent to a larger stone building with a massive chimney towering over its roof.