Alcoves line the narrow passageway, empty save for the occasional scrap of refuse or abandoned nest. The air here feels dense, oppressive, as if
the protective wards that no doubt once held strong still lingered as memory. You scan the crumbling walls in the vain hope that some relique may have been overlooked by those who came before.
Nothing is known of the lower regions of this vast tomb, which leads people to speculate that the worldly possessions of the nameless cleric interred here remain undisturbed. Those who have ventured here and returned tell of movement in the dark, chittering and faint voices heard at the bottom of immeasurably vast chasms. Many more have simply been lost, but fortunes are traded for even the smallest trinket retreived from this hallowed ground. For this reason did you make pilgrimage to such a bereft land.
The light of the torch catches a faint glinting up ahead. Pulling your dagger from its sheath, you slow your pace and approach the object that rests in a dusty alcove. It is a metal tooth, resting in a tarry substance. What will you do with it?