a circle of monks in brown rough spun cloth, hoods pulled far over their heads, chant in an ancient language...
voices rise and fall as the surf while the monks draw a circular design on the stone using fat sticks of chalk...
a glimpse of a face under a hood reveals large, bulbous eyes and wide flat lips...
As the voices reach a peak, the loud screeching of something unworldly carries across the bay, making Dougal's spine shiver. He suddenly blinks his eyes awake and returns to the dungeon, his feet precariously touching a familiar circular design chalked onto the floor. A bead of sweat drips off his nose and falls into the pit. Then he steps back with the shake of his head and lets out a long sigh.
Dougal moves to the nearest wall and leans against it, sliding down to the cavern floor. "I think I need a minute..."