The Lizard Warrior Leader stood incredulously amidst a pile of corpses, on a street within the ruins. Between the ancient, mottled walls, the bodies of night lizards and adventurers lay scattered across the ground, clearly showing that both sides had put aside their differences and fought shoulder to shoulder before their demise—but to no avail. The battle had been fiercely brutal, with blood flowing over and filling the gaps between the cobblestones, wetly dripping down the steps, ticking away.
Beyond that, there was no other sound in the darkness.
Only the gaping mouths of the dead, their hollow and silent eyes gazing in one direction, seemed to emit a silent scream that still hovered in this dark underground. In the center of the battlefield, an Avenquin elf and a night lizard stood back to back against their enemies, a space cleared out in front of them, surrounded by the twisted corpses of undead creatures.
Corpse ghosts, skeletons, zombies, and the tattered cloaks of ghosts.
