A shadowy figure moved through the burned remains of the wooden hill-fort, which once stood like a beacon in the sea of oaks that dominate the landscape with their enormous height. A large reptilian creature flew down, screeched in a high tone that destroys eardrums and continued on its hunting way, disappearing in the shadow of the grand oaks. Only a screech was heard.
The figure walked down the narrow hallways that lead to the main mead hall, darkness was ever present. A cobweb here, a cobweb there, it was an ideal scene for an old abandoned dungeon filled randomly with monster of all sorts. The figure moved like a shadow to the stone-slab doors. Strong and sturdy, they were after years of battle with the elements, a rear sight in this humid weather. With a loud banking noise the doors latched in their place. They were opened after so many years. Rows of cracked, broken tables adorned the deserted mead hall like strings on a hurdy-gurdy, they were a perfect match.
The figure searched for something. The ground periodically shook, remembering that it should continue to do that, neither weaker nor strong, the same constant shaking. Earthquakes were a common thing in these parts. The figure turned, looked in a distant corner of the mead hall. It found what it searched for. The shaking became stronger, and with it the wind. The figure rushed to get far away from this accursed place. It depends how far one is counting.
High above the figure a storm was gathering on the horizon, clouds black as night moved with a steady pace over the hill-fort. The ground was shaking a lot stronger than before.
Deep underground, in a prison, made from the strongest metals that this world could find and enchanted with the strongest magic, something large, fierce and unknown moved its tail.
Two red eyes shinned in the darkness.
The hinges were starting to loosen.