The panther man continues his trek into deeper and deeper woods, picking up speed as he leaves the more populous area and you trailing him all the while. He starts leaping and bounding, rushing through the forest faster than you can, and you quickly lose him in the thick trees.
"Wait, what's that?"
Steve's started to look around, and at first you don't understand. Then you hear it. Just faintly, off in the distance, someone is chanting. It's a rhythmic, almost songlike chant, a haunting echo for this dark and empty forest. Of course, the two of you don't hesitate to get a closer look at things.
In a small green clearing, the panther is standing next to a ring of men wearing flowing velvet cloaks, each of them joining in the chorus of whatever ritual they're involved with. At their center is a fairly normal-looking barrel, filled with a swirling, multicolored liquid. The chanting grows louder, more cacophonous, and the substance in the barrel starts to ripple. It gets louder still, and what looks like a massive set of fingers reaches out from the depths of the barrel, grasping at the side. Dark blue liquid starts to gather near the fingers, and the limb they're attached to is pulled out: a wing, whose dexterous feathers you'd mistaken for fingers. The beaked head is next, poking its way out of the center of the rippling surface, and then the other wing appears and helps to pull the rest of the massive, crow-like beast out. It stands no less than six feet tall on taloned feet, and the mere sight of it gives you a chill.