Judging by the sun's position in the sky, it is nearing noon when the heroes-to-be arrive, finding Lancet to be thoroughly deserted.
The cobbled street is a short one, stopping in a sudden dead-end 500 feet from where it begins. It is lined by small thatched, houses, one story high, with shingled roofs and a solid look about them.
At the end of the street, a tree towers: an ancient oak with branches that splay out, casting a long shadow over an out of place dwelling, that sits squatly at the very end of Lancet Street.
The strange house is smaller than the others, and appears to be round, with a conical roof, out of which a chimney can be seen. The few windows are dark and grotty, but the house's single door is open, as though it has been waiting for someone to arrive.