There were bones in the sand. Long dead bones. Damon's gaze lingered on a corpse tangled between the trees, black roots spearing through its ribs like grotesque vines claiming a trophy. The flesh had long since rotted away. Rusted weapons and strips of worn leather still clung stubbornly to the skeleton. From the remains of its clothing, he could tell the body had belonged to a man.
A very dead man, from what he could tell it must have been someone from the second epoch based on the design on his weapon.
Not far from it lay a dented helm and a broken bow, its string frayed and worn thin before finally snapping. It was covered in mud its runes faded having lost all of its magical value.
Maybe he could sell it to a collector or something though at this point he was wealthy enough to not care for it.
