It had been three days since the four of them began their campaign into the dungeon. Closing his eyes against the onslaught of dust, Dúnedain prayed for forgiveness. He wondered when he had talked himself into believing that he was still a good soul. Years ago. Maybe it had only become apparent to the stallion when he talked himself into accepting the gold these four desperate, deranged Coursers had offered in his fa...

Deep into the darker reaches of the tunnel, a small group of four Coursers, dungeon dwellers each, roamed through the dark, damp stone. The silence they listened to was suddenly pierced. The mournful cry was a long and haunting one, echoing off the stone walls like an old, traditional hymn of mourning. Grenwyx stopped, and her abrupt halt brought the whole group to a stop.   “Did you hear that?” Grenwyx as...