The tunnel widens and reveals a grand chasm before you. Your party stays close to the wall and sidles in, hoping to get a better view. You are swiftly rewarded with such, and the sight is something to behold, a true dragon's hoard, but one of a most peculiar nature.

Adjectives, nouns, adverbs, and even the odd gerund, all piled on top of each other with loose punctuation tumbling out between the serifs and counters. In the flickering torchlight you could swear you see a gaggle of diphthongs scuttle across the cobble floor. You have no time to look twice however, as the diaeresis above your nose is drawn inexorably towards the apex ascender of the hoard.

An ancient grammar dragon, hoarding their diacritics and apocopes like their coloured kin hoard gold. The great ink stained head turns towards you, and the parentheses hiding their teeth part, revealing not just rows of the things, but a building breath of glossolalia.

A plosive from the dragon's throat and the stream of logorrhea shoots towards you. You dive for the nearest corridor, but a stray phonaestheme catches you in gut.

As you lay there in the dark, torch sputtering out, you see several paths open to you...

Thoughts

A small bearded lexeme beckons from behind a door marked "Thoughts".

Tools

A gnome with a cedilla tattooed under each eye points towards a door marked "Tools".

Tales

You hear the clatter of dice faintly behind a door marked "Tales".