Two great stone idols, their features long eroded through aching centuries,
stand vigil before the tomb. A gentle stream of rainwater runs from their
hollow eyes, choked by a richness of lichen. You pull your worn cowl over
your head in refuge from the worsening storm, the towering pines howling
in sympathy as you spy the fractured gateway half submerged in the dirt.
You hesitate, consider turning back, but the forest you traversed to reach
this place does not permit journeying after the sun has set. The
moss-eaten fragments of bone littering the scarcely defined trail are a
testament to the warning given to you by the innkeeper with the sunken
face. With a grim resolve, you step forward and enter...
The Cleric's Repose
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