From Introduction: Desolate forest and leagues of unkempt road have led you to the gates of Littlestone. Tallrock Mountain looms behind it, filling your vision. The sheer immensity of it makes these rugged old-stone houses seem smaller, less relevant; insignificant motes in the great span of time. The artist and his wife greet you at the door. The wife you know, from way back. The artist you don’t, save by reputation. He looks at you askance; your senses flash cold for a moment. The feeling passes, but you keep your guard. “They came from underneath,” the wife is telling you. “The old ruins, the ones we built the houses on... they’re haunted. Now, those things live there.” The basement beckons, a yawning chasm, cold as the grave. It swallows you whole. “Will you go down there? Now? I wouldn’t normally insist, but they always come out after dark...” What do you do?