The Holy Shrine on the island of Tol Vanima is surrounded by the mangled corpses of trees.
Small fires dotted around the area send plumes of woodsmoke into the sky, and a man sits crosslegged in the midst of the destruction, roasting a pig over a slow fire. An axe lies on the blackened grass beside him, stained with nature's blood. The trees were clearly ancients; great old oaks, knotted beeches and melancholy willows. They are now splinters.
The man wears a cloak, and a matching bandana and scarf (which is tied over the lower part of his face, concealing him). It is the dead of night, and the woodland creatures, perhaps sensing the menace, avoid the clearing like the plague.
If you listen closely, you can hear him chuckling.