cattered throughout the great land of Arcanum lie many ancient ruins. The remnants of past settlements, lone shrines and vast fortresses all lay hidden amongst the undergrowth, their few remaining secrets slowly decaying into the dust from whence they came. It is my advice to you that it is always prudent to avoid such places, unless well armed. Even then I would not advise casual observance, and would myself only venture near such a place if I were in the most extreme of circumstances. Many have proven that wandering aimlessly into such an area can quickly become a fatal endeavor.

I find it highly probably that many of these decaying ruins hold ancient secrets, perhaps items of power or even untold wealth, but, if they do, then they most certainly are also in possession of guardians to protect those very same objects. These guardians come in many guises, from elaborately laid traps and magickal protections to vicious demons and armies of the gruesome undead. It is the latter I will speak of now.

I was on expedition with several colleagues of mine, searching vainly for the elusive Forest Ape. My companions and I were in the company of several travelers, warriors in appearance and mannerisms with whom we had joined as we traversed east of Ashbury. We had decided that traveling in a larger group would be more prudent as our trek would take us far from hospitable civilization.

We had progressed rather uneventfully for the past fortnight, and were feeling quite at ease when we came across the remains of what appeared to be a small temple. I voiced my concerns and suggested that we please move quickly and silently beyond the location, but I was not to be heeded that day, for our fellow travelers were in search of adventure and riches, and these ruins might provide for one or both of these aspirations.

As we approached the relic, the hairs on the nape of my neck stood on end moments before a young gowrath charged us from the nearby underbrush. It gave us all a tremendous fright, but was easily dispatched, being a territorial, but rather defenseless creature.

Emboldened by this simple conquest, our companions marched fearlessly into the ruins while I and my party remained behind, unwilling to proceed. As they breached what appeared to have been the outer hall, the ground around them began to erupt with a violent force. From beneath the rubble, the animated remains of those long dead arose to protect the crumbling temple.

I shouted to my companions to scatter, and we took up defensive positions within the surrounding forest. For what had emerged from the ground was not some weak zombie that would be quickly dispatched but a truly formidable power. Surrounding the warriors was a small army of skeletal bowmen. Each clothed in the tattered remains of some ancient livery, each armed with a longbow and each releasing a volley of arrows into the intruders with such deadly speed and accuracy that my mind found it nearly incomprehensible.

Our travel companions fell with amazing speed. Two managed to flee, but the effort was not enough to save them. The tattered bowmen gave chase, running with amazing speed, never wavering in their continued onslaught, never ceasing until the last signs of life had escaped those who had dared to trespass upon their domain.

We stood quaking in the trees, not daring to even breath, knowing in our hearts that one false move would set these animated horrors upon us. The tattered bowmen seemed to take stock of their surroundings, and being satisfied that they would be bothered no more, returned to their sentry positions, sinking slowly into the ground, transforming once again into seemingly harmless piles of rubble.

These tattered bowmen, whose deadly force we observed firsthand, are merely one of the horrors that lie in wait, guarding the secrets of Arcanum's ancient ruins. I beg you, heed this warning dear reader, and leave such places lie undisturbed.