The Corporal led his three fellow watchmen through the tunnel that lay underneath Sandpoint. Baros had jumped at the statue of the furious lady but the rest of them had simply laughed at him. Now, though, their laughter had died away and dread seemed to close in on them from just beyond the edge of the light.
“Sir,” Baros murmured, “Shouldn’t we report ba…”
“Report what, Watchman?” the corporal snapped. We’ve found nothing that the adventurers who came here before hadn’t already told Sheriff Hemlock. Lord Ashton will be expecting a bit more than that." As if in response, they passed through a doorway and were surrounded by…words. Hundreds upon hundreds of words written on the walls and along the ceiling. They spiraled, grew, and shrank to fill in any open space. The spiky runic language was not one any of the watchmen recognized.
“Maybe we should go get Brodert…” Baros almost whispered.
“Maybe you should…” came a disembodied voice. “But first, you should tell me…what year is it?”
The guardsmen formed a tight circle, back to back. “What?” the corporal asked.
“It’s a simple question. But never mind, you’ll tell me soon enough…” Fog began to billow in all around them and they heard strange noises, like animals…no, like men making animal noises. Then they began to scream.
Then they stopped.