Curse of the Sorcerer

You lay prone in a field of wet green grass, the sprouts tickling your chiseled arms. Your short red hair, slick with rain, leaks cold water on to your large frame. Before you, just about 100 meters away, sits a small cottage. The walls seem to be crumbling, the brickwork yielding to the elements. This was where the woman in the tavern had told you to go. Supposedly, this was the location of a small of a sorcerer and his minions, but you had been scouting the building for hours and had only seen an old man in the building. He has to be the man I'm looking for, but where are his minions? You think to yourself.

Right now, all you can see is the old man stirring a pot. You had spotted him earlier gathering leeks and herbs in the garden outside. Nothing out of the ordinary. You start to wonder if your information is bad. What if that lady was just trying to get me out of town? She did seem a bit suspicious. As you think, you notice movement inside the house. You can't see the man anymore, but you do hear what sounds like chanting coming from inside. There is nothing you can see from here, so you elect to move closer.