Dathla tripped on the rubble, skinning her knuckles as fought to keep her balance. The ruins of the old chapel had been left to molder and rot, but Dathla was convinced something of value must remain.
She slipped quietly down the broken hallway where a glint of light caught her eye. Stooping carefully, Dathla pulled a small, stone tablet from a pile of debris. Turning it over revealed a golden rune of magnificent beauty.
Dathla traced the rune with the tip of a finger and felt a warmth flow into her body. It spoke to her, not with words but with a deeply primal voice. For a brief moment, she thought she smelled sulfur before it was replaced again by the dank smells of rot.
Clutching the rune to her breast, Dathla fled the old chapel as quickly as she dared. She knew she had discovered an object of power, one which held potential for the revival of Stalworth. She knew not what it meant, but there was one man who might. She just had to find him.