Yawning Maw at Dawn
Enter if ye dare,
the bravest souls tread lightly
and the wisest consider twicely there
if there is a cloak and daggered plot unsightly
or if murder simply reaches out of thin air?
The most powerful magicks seek and find not
that in the fog of the Fell Jawbone they dread
no spirits, or tricks await among the death and rot
only the lost, damned, treasure hunters, and all the other dead
no legend can explain the sharpest teeth of a slain beast freshly stained red.
So it is said, that none shall go near the final resting grounds
and for thousands of years none do go,
miles far and thunderous near, hunger pains and rumbling sounds
frighten all who know
fearful, an army gathers though.
The fog lifts from the skeletal remains as they march steadfastly down upon,
the grave of a great and ancient beast that is dead, and long since gone
they search long, and inspect the site, day and night but find nothing amidst the ruins
declared safe and centuries turn it to a settlement, home of the haunted