The Hall of the Blood Warlord…
Vast. Gloomy. Unholy.
Pillars, thick as a dragon's thigh, clawed toward a roof hidden in shadows. Their surfaces wept with carvings of—heaps of bodies, rivers of blood, and twisted creatures kneeling before an unseen horror.
The air was suffocating with the copper tang of spilled blood and something fouler... as if the Hall itself had been steeped in death for millennia.
At the far end stood two colossal doors. Black. Silent. Shut.
Massive and unyielding, they devoured the faint light around them. Bone and sinew coiled across their surface, forming omnious shapes—warriors kneeling, blades dripping crimson, and a faceless figure at the center... its void-like gaze promising death.
Beneath the doors sat a fountain.
Not of water.
