The thick odor of rot clings to every rock and every stone in these abandoned corridors. Somewhere down the caverns, the iron rails grow warm with a foul heat. Sickly yellow light spills over the stones and ores. Suffocatingly acrid steam kisses the decaying wood of the mineshaft's pillars.
Atop his bed of gold and silver, diamond and quartz, sapphire and emerald, the ancient beast can taste the scent of your presence. Though his age is immeasurable, as is