It is theorised that the tunnels beneath the fort run for miles, reaching out to connect to other safe havens, though none have ever gone deep enough and returned with tidings of such sanctuary. The early expeditions into these umbral halls were largely out of self defence; the breaching of the cellar wall by a prisoner having woke deep paranoia in those who thought the fort a safe haven.
Such early expeditions rarely returned; the paths beneath the keep are labyrinthine and filled with horrors that even lay those to the surface in a charitable light. Beings fused with the very walls themselves, flesh and blood corrupting stone and mortar; spreading, growing, hungering. Moonshadow's ancient dead twisted to foul purpose and malevolent hunger, such awaits any who venture down there.
It is here that we see the most desperate attempts of runing; half formed runes smeared with age old blood; a shakily drawn rune too badly inscribed to offer any protection from the brutal blow that carved into the stone behind it; a circle of active runes with but one missing, sanctuary denied.