The rough-cut basalt walls grow from the forbidding landscape and form a shape reminiscent of a giant ossified tree. The dark red glow discharged from the encircling windows into the predawn darkness is the only sign that someone is home… From his throne, Aracan Katuvana surveyed the room around him, his hood obscuring his face. A suit of black armour hung on a stand to one side, a sinister helm with a mottled gold crown riveted to the brow on a table beside it. On the weapon’s stand next to the table, a massive double-handed sword and black steel mace glittered in the candlelight. Clapping his hands, the Aracan summoned an ancient, gnarled Goblin wearing a black tabard. The goblin bowed to the red and black robed figure on the tarnished throne and turned to a pedestal where a large, polished basalt Jar with a carving of a monocular face on the front rested. The eye opened; an iris like green swirling mist regarded the goblin.
