They dot the landscape, here and there. Great, metallic structures, now rusting with disuse. Invariably they remain sealed by some artifice or ancient magic, impenetrable by any known means. Perhaps they were factories, or storehouses, or strongholds, or even shrines to some forgotten god or other. None remember. Whoever built them, for whatever purpose, their time is long gone.
You’re ${character.name}, a young, unproven scout for the ${Name of your clan?} clan. You’re three days out on your patrol through the rocky highlands, in search of…well, anything unusual. Beyond a few skittish mountain goats, you’ve found nothing. Another of the great rusted structures is ahead. You approach, intending to seek shelter from the midday sun. What you find chills your blood: for the first time in living memory, the round steel hatch of the great structure stands open. You peer into the darkness inside.
From within, a voice speaks, deep and resonant, with a strange metallic undertone: