As the light of the Gloamkeeper's Beacon emanated, the content of the woodshed storage was illuminated.
The air was thick with the smell of timber mingling with an acrid stench of decay and foulness from the materials harvested from the remains of dead Calamity Objects.
Shadows dance erratically as the lantern's beams of light move forward, casting distorted silhouettes of grotesque items stored in haphazard piles.
Pieces of hardened, scaled hides from monstrous creatures hang from the rafters, their textures alien and unsettling to the touch. Strange bones, twisted and malformed, litter the floor, some still humming with faint traces of unnatural energy, making the entire space feel alive with a malign presence.
Even the walls seemed to groan under the weight of the dark things stored within, some pulsating faintly, emitting low, almost inaudible whispers that prick at the back of the mind.
