The expected horde of orcs was nowhere in sight, though the courtyard was littered with grisly signs of their presence. Four skeletons, dressed in guard uniforms long-rotted beyond recognition, were propped up on long spears, flanking the doors of the castle. Towards the eastern wall was a shallow midden that reeked of filth and decay, heaped with bones from beast and man alike. Towards the western wall was gleaming white altar of bleached bone, topped with some manner of giants' skull, graven with grim sigils of dark power.<br/><br/>The castle itself, however, still stood in defiance of time, elements, and invaders. Its heavy oaken doors were scarred, but still held. An old gong hung beside the doors, a mallet leaning against the wall beneath it.<br/><br/>Angeline eyed the bone altar with distaste. "Such crude monuments, to crude power," she scoffed.