You are standing outside the Reay Arms, a narrow white-stone pub flanked by trees. The building's doors have been left wide open, and you can see that the interior of the building has been ruined for several weeks.

Somebody has spraypainted Se@*ing @in*@%b#@@d #en A%e@ * La*ers# onto a wall. The graffiti has been obscured by smears of gore.

There is a dead body here.