Moonstone Quarry guts for garters

The creature had been lurking among the shards and spires of the quarry for some time now, prowling in the manner of a thing ancient and deadly, something unearthed. They roamed the ridge at dawn, or could be spotted investigating the many chasms littering the mountainside at dusk. Sometimes they would find something of interest within those dusty pits and the hills would carry the chorus of death rattles in to the night. It became a game — and those screams carried far, satiating some need within the beast. They were sacrifices, some might say. Souls freely given to the specter of the quarry. Signs of their encampment could be seen the further one traveled in to the depths of the crumbling mountain. Red streaks along the paths. Discarded chunks of body parts half chewed. Some pits were so defiled that the soil was black with old blood. The creature was content with this, for now, placated by the nightly ritual, but it wouldn't be long until the deaths of inconsequential entities failed to appease.