Far below the forest, past the corrupted tree where the chieftain met the demonic trolls, stood a place that no adventurer dared to pass.
An old, worn-down barracks.
Its original purpose was still visible at a glance. Squared stone foundations and the skeletal remains of collapsed watchtowers marked it as a former human stronghold, once maintained to hold a fortified position against invasion.
Time had not been kind to it.
Entire sections of the outer wall had collapsed inward, their gaps filled with crude reinforcements of bone, scavenged metal, and blackened timber. Rusted ballista mounts had been torn apart and rebuilt into monstrous launchers capable of firing thick, iron-tipped spikes. They weren't elegant, but they were placed at exact angles, covering every viable approach.
Barbaric modifications were everywhere.
