We travelled northwards, toiling as we went,
Casting around carefully, for the tower of the creators,
The woods were thick, wicked and threatening.
Creatures could be seen, but never fully discerned,
The feeling of eyes on our shoulders, we could not shake.
A watching ophidian oke, made us bolt.
Until we discovered, a deep forboding ditch.
It was thoroughly empty, our escape was made.
We followd the old road, spotting a towering obelisk.
An ethereal force, we engaged and fought.
And into the tower, did we carefully inch.