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In the wastelands of Siberia, there is a legend which locals don't care to speak about. At first, the usual suspects in cases like these begin; radios will no longer play anything but white noise, compasses go haywire, and time seems to slow down to a crawl. Feelings of claustrophobia take hold despite the clear air and open space. A few colleagues of mine were quick to point this out when we were there. I had felt it just like they did. But it gets much worse.

You must travel through the forest, even in the dark. At least, if you wish to tell the tale afterwards. The paths are winding, broken, and the remains of many hapless travelers lay under wind-blown soil and sprouting foliage. Many note the fiendish color the trees and bushes take: a color so discomforting, one cannot easily describe it. The legend, though, is focused on the well.

You will see it eventually, given you don't succumb to cold or injury. It is an ancient well of cobblestone – grown over with moss and riddled with filth. Centuries ago, a man was reported to have killed himself by jumping in. Unlike the other superstitions which many would think though, there is no 'haunt' to be found here. But don't be mistaken, the place is _undoubtedly_ stained of something uncanny. Dreadful.

Many report, that others nearby will begin to act strangely. A cloud of distrust will consume everyone, but you musn't leave. Not yet. What you are looking for is at the bottom, past the tunnel of cobblestones and into the depths of the foul water. It is here that most fail. Details are of no importance, but you must remember that once the item is taken, everyone must leave promptly. We know from the excavation logs. Whatever is down there, which is not spoken about, is apparently of great value. Should you set up camp for the night, sounds will echo up from the watery depths. Clawing, scraping, groaning. All we're sure of, is that the teams never come back.

cont.