The hyperborean realm of the Eternal Flame
Clarence was singing in harmony as his kind is wont to do. Their singing reinforced the "song of existance". It was a somewhat important job, even though only a handful were needed rather than the hundreds that did so. He and others near him noticed the pin prick discordence in the weave of melody that was the material realm. Those dark alien notes rose up. The Angel Mind touch the Divine and followed the new sub melody. Humans would call it a plan. Angels dove to the material realm and, of course, if any world was going to be causing problems, it had to be Earth. Oh well, at least Clarence would know his way around.
Stormbound, the ship rolls hard over to once side. All that is not strapped down is tossed violently overboard in a splash of freezing water.
There, on the horizon- a tower. Squat, it stands alone on a tiny island. However, it's the only land in sight, and any more of this ferocious storm will crush the boat to splinters.
Taking shelter within the ornate entryway of the squat tor, the party notes with interest that no signs of life break the silence of the stone tower. As they take another step forward, they realise why.
This is the fabled tower of Brenji, a rich merchant who wished none to share his enormous wealth. He constructed this tower to store his gold- trapped and ready for any potential thieves. But the ingenious pitfalls and scything walls are not the only dangers within the silent walls of the building. A guardian, left behind by Brenji, still stalks these very halls.
A rattling hiss echoes somewhere from below...