Deep in the wetlands, there lie
Such secrets, as we must never pry,
For, those that guard them, guard them well,
And in fevered madness, dwell!
If, perchance, your nightly jaunt
Takes you through the Old Ones’ haunts,
Heed the wisdom of ancient words
Older than the songs of birds.
Avert thine eyes from the trees that move
Whilst walking through the windless groves.
Avert thy gaze from the shining blades
Of lush green grass in the moonless glades.
Follow not the darkened banks
Of the ever-dry river where sanity sank.
Step not upon the nameless shores
Of the nameless sea of dire lore.
Smell not the flowers that grow
In unnatural hues and unnatural glows.
Knock not on the beckoning door
Of the hut that was missing the moment before!
And if you survive the perilous night,
Morning will bring a wondrous sight:
A tavern, where you can tell the tale
Of your journey through that ancient vale!
The Archives of Ash 