The ambient eerie echo rang through the deep-set tunnels of the Crypts. Rustling corpses and undead thralls stir, eager to follow their master. Breadcrumb trails of lifeless Crypt raiders mark the safest paths if you can call it safe. Those who have been to the bottom, a scarce few of them, have made it back to the surface. The Lion's share of raiders are still wandering the Crypts, procuring small treasures, marking new networks, or wander muttering incoherent gibberish.
The events above are but a blink of an instant to the Crypt King, slumbering in the depths of Purgareth. When he rises from his tomb is unknown or why. The certainty, that has lasted thousands of years, is that it is not a matter of if, but when.
"Deep down, miles and miles, beneath the Spire, below the Citadel, through the Black Lake, the Crypt King awakens." - Prophet Cassius
The events above are but a blink of an instant to the Crypt King, slumbering in the depths of Purgareth. When he rises from his tomb is unknown or why. The certainty, that has lasted thousands of years, is that it is not a matter of if, but when.
"Deep down, miles and miles, beneath the Spire, below the Citadel, through the Black Lake, the Crypt King awakens." - Prophet Cassius