Weird things lurk in the soggy pits of caves, and odd shadows loom behind forgotten cellar doors. On the other hand, the things in the daylight aren’t perfectly kosher either, only familiar. I’ve heard tales of things done in the light which make the darkness seem the better place. There was a city, a grand city, loved and respected, the pinnacle of culture. The place is in ruins now, and only whispers remain. I went there in winter after the rain. A cold sun stood above it, and the wind raced through the desolate houses. There I heard whispered tales.
Related: Foreshadow of Death
Tale Told 