The Undead March On

When I thought it wise to stay overnight at the construction site, I thought wrong. I worked myself to the bone, heaving wooden beams all by myself long after the others had left. King Gormander wants this outpost finished afore Rimgard's troops breach the border... It won't change much, I reckon, but it's not my place to pipe up. During a brief moment of rest, I dozed off. What followed was either a dream or a warning: The ground shook. A deep vibration, rhythmic and distant, reverberated into my ear and echoed through my head like a tidal wave. While I could feel it, my eyes were blind in the dark. Is Vorgoth drawing near already, or has a different threat arrived? I could not say. Tomorrow, I'll stay overnight once more... I'll have confirmation soon enough!

If anybody finds this, hand it directly to King Gormander. My men and I are DONE here, and we ain't coming back. Rimgard's army would've been bad enough, but they're still human, far as I know! Instead, what's stomping through the valleys is far more nightmarish! A brigade of flame-cursed, hollowed-out Cyclops is descending from the mountaintops, and with it, the stench of burnt flesh and decay! I can hear them move as one through the vale below! Don't know where they're headed, but I won't stay to find out!