We made it inside the tomb and we're alive. For now.
Not the case for most of the mage's henchmen. On our way in, we found their camp torn to pieces along with his cook. A cook? Shouldn't be surprised that the Arcanum is soft.
Outside the tomb, we found the scribe. The mage was dropping them like flies. Typical Arcanum behaviour.
The sparklings took some time to enjoy the art before we went in. Inside we came upon a fountain of some of the purest water I've tasted. Next to the fountain? You guessed it, another body. Looked like a man-at-arms of some kind.
Again, the younglings go and admire the art. Sure, might as well enjoy it before we end up like everyone else we've found so far. At least they're not asking me questions about it. Not that I know much about the beginning, nor do I care to know.
An open sarcophagus revealed a way down. Things got worse. A root-filled room with a fountain full of that black ichor. Another dead body, a young human female. A shame for one so young of a race that barely lives to begin with. Something or someone did this. The flames began to rage. I was nearly ready to smash it with my bare fists. My hand is still shaking. I only stopped because little Fonlap made a good point that there had to be a source. Not for long.
I'm really hoping for a someone. A much more fun way to restore balance to nature.