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In the dusty alleys of Ankrahmun, amid the scent of spices and the distant chanting of merchants, sat Melchior the blind. His eyes had never seen the world, but his ears held tales that would make even the bravest tremble. One scorching afternoon, a wanderer, covered in dust and scars, sat down beside him and began to speak.
He told of disgraced Heroes, who once brandished swords for justice but now enslaved dwarves from an old abandoned mine in the cold hills of Cormaya, forcing them to build a dark castle in the icy north of Edron. Melchior listened intently, his lips pursed and his brow furrowed.
But that was not all. The stranger also spoke of Drefia, a cursed and forgotten land, where lies a cemetery desecrated by the Banshees, and where shadows whisper in forbidden tongues. There, in the crypts of stone and blood, he found a sect of necromancers, involved in vile rituals, who sought to revive ancient demons, sealed away for ages.
After many hours and sips of cheap mead, the wanderer stared blankly at the horizon and revealed the latest of his discoveries: a lost tomb, sealed in the depths where only the Ancient Scarabs reign. He said that the entrance had been blocked by forces beyond the comprehension of men, but that behind it lay something... too ancient to be named.
Melchior said nothing. He just smiled. For, even blind, he saw more than anyone.
Diptrath
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