Although technically not an abbey of any sorts, our Mount Arratan guides insisted on calling it one. After a never-ending night on the northern side of the mountain, with the snow battering down, the star’s rise in the morning cleared the winter veil before us to reveal the abbey’s entrance.
Derenion insisted that the rhythm of construction was consistent with the time in which the structure was built which was the second Zerevonesse era, near four hundred years ago. Whatever light crept through the front door revealed an intriguing yet gruesome spectacle with the walls and pillars covered in what can only be described as depictions of flesh, bone and muscle.
Strangely enough, the antechamber just past the entrance smelled intensely of vilian, a northern plainsflower found usually accompanying the dead to their final resting place. We did not proceed any further due to our guides completely running out on us. Cowards.