Lore
First a grinding, as of two clay slabs scraping together. Then came a slow inhalation — maybe the first in centuries. The warden had woken, roused by some unnatural summons, bent on a single purpose: slay the intruder. What was it — a man sealed in clay, or a clay effigy quickened by ancient powers? Did it act of its own will, or did unseen hands pull its strings? I do not know, and I doubt I ever shall. It seems one more of the elder secrets buried deep under Vale Sangora.