Scroll Ardinia The Crypt

As the sun begins its descent to the horizon, the call for help sounds out.
A battle wages in the city, of this there is no doubt. A man overwhelmed in his duty,
to keep the city safe, wavers on a precipice, wanting to change his fate.
Weapons wielded, help charged in, to save the man, who cried out within the din. What is found to their surprise,
is a different kind of foe. This is not the sound of warring, a battle based from hate.
It is the roaring trumpets of despair, their wailing, anguish reeling in the air.
Their enemy was not an army come from distant lands. It was desperate citizens, taking fate by the hand.
In this spinning madness, you found your self caged in. The portcullis locked, to keep the hungry in.
The mob yelled out their credence, to fight, but not to die.
We stood among the hungry, who attacked our very lives. They came in droves, and when they fell,
were swept up in the swell. Their fellow citizens saved them, keeping to their pledge.
They would fight to feed their families, their lives saved from the ledge.
It is hard to fight the hungry, to not feel for their cause. We were locked behind a portcullis, a place without any laws.
When possibility did arise, we tried to dodge the fight. It was not our goal to keep the desperate from their plight.
When we found ourselves in silence, we looked for an escape. Some venturing through the city, while others roamed below
It was in the darkened sewers where two found their blood run cold. In an ancient crypt, they found something not so old.
Two mutilated corpses, each with an eye removed. Where placed within a coffin within a sacred tomb.
There bodies fresh with violence, a mystery lay with in. As the city roared with violence, a monster hid within.
The murdering wretch is yet unknown, his sacrifice hard as stone.
Faces frozen in their horror, of an end they should never seen alone.
We are the seers of the fate, hold the memory of their faces.
Yet we have not found the man, who could return them to their graces.