The two figures in the canoe were just at the edge of being nervous. The pair were arguably the most seasoned thieves in the world, but this was pushing against the boundaries of reason. Before them, the graceful light of a silvery-blue moon shone down on the shores of an enchanted island- the tiny clump of boulders and forest only appeared at seemingly random intervals, sometimes lasting only seconds and separated by hundreds of years. If they were delayed the slightest bit, they could be whisked away along with the mysterious island to wherever it went.
Beaching the canoe carefully and taking meticulous note of its location, they made their way inland from the shore. Soon the moon was left behind under a thick canopy of lush forest. The path was built of smooth stones by intelligent hands, but the wilderness had the look of a place long untouched by men. The pair knew, from the little their client had shared, that this path was the only path on the island, and it greeted all who landed here. It would take them to the tomb, or at least guide them. Some kind of obstacle was guaranteed by the enchantments protecting the unique treasure resting at the center.
They walked much further than it seemed they could considering the size of the isle, and were beginning to have doubts of these stories of magic trails, when they began to hear a dull booming noise, rhythmic but with odd intervals, slowly getting louder and louder, as though closer and closer; a low bassy throb that seemed to come almost from the earth below them.
Blades of grass began to tremble, branches turned to sway, and even entire trees began to shake as the sound grew louder, all but deafening the keen eared halfling. A lesser pair would have been soon overcome with fear at what monstrous thing could be approaching them, making this tremendous noise; but the halfling was above all a curious fellow (it had got him this far, after all) and the half-elf had conquered fear many a day, and would do so this day as well.
But nothing prepared them for the sight that erupted out of the forest before them. Snarling, moaning, panting, a great enormous monstrosity careened out of the darkness. Each of its limbs was different, its odd gait molding the intervals of the great sound. In the few moments the thieves had to react, the creature seemed to change several times, new tentacles and limbs and tails and horns sprouting and receeding, as though molding itself to their deepest terrors.
In a flash, the beast divided in two- one for each of them. It was hardly necessary as a single of the cursed beasts would be more than enough to devour an army of able soldiers.
The thieves began to run, with the hideous creatures lurching through splintering trees behind. They were soon hopelessly lost in the labyrinth woods, the cursed monstrosities only ever a single missed step behind. Frantic for a better plan, each ran through various options as they leaped over fallen trees and crashed through shrubberies.
The half-elf leaped over a particularly large boulder, landing with a splash in a puddle on the other side, and was gifted with a stroke of insight. He spun to face his horrible pursuer, standing tall and brave but not even drawing a weapon.
The monster vanished in a puff of smoke that billowed around him, dissolving into the leaves as though it had never been. The halfling saw, quickly understood, instantly felt foolish and turned to do the same; this time the creature came to within a whisker of the thief’s chin before fading to ephemeral memory.
The two turned around, to see where the way forward may lie; and found they had been delivered to the ancient entrance of the Tomb.
They only hesitated a moment before entering the eldritch sanctum. Within, a corridor stretched ahead, eternally lit by enchantment. The way was strewn with the forgotten bones of those that had come before them.
It was deceptively simple; no further traps or monsters barred their progress. There were no side corridors or branching hallways, no way to get lost. In moments, they stepped into a chamber that none had ever lived to tell of. In the center, raised on an ornate bier, was an open sarcophagus. The light in the room came from softly glowing runes traced into every surface of the room; wards and sigils that had protected the sole occupant, and its solitary treasure, for ages unknown.
Neither was sure, later, which of them it was that had stepped close to the archaic stone of the resting place and reached out for the tiny relic clutched at the skeleton’s chest. Neither, though, would ever forget the awful chill when the dusty bones leaned up from their repose, and a ghostly voice that rang of shadows and memory addressed them. Crumbling robes fell to pieces as the lich drew the chain over its frail head and passed the necklace to the thieves. It told them the time had come for the charm to go free, the time had come for rest at last.