You are an explorer, or maybe a graverobber since you only explore old ruins and crypts, and only discover the defenseless riches of the long dead. But who am I to judge you? We hardly met, after all, but I should get back to your story. On this rainy day, you found a moss-covered archway of rocks and took shelter in it. In your haste to hide from a standard occurrence in the sky, you fell down about one hundred steps, flopping on each one, making the most intolerable racket of yelling and clanging. Eventually, you reached the bottom, and seeing nothing, you lit a torch that you must have had with you, thus illuminating a room filled with ancient carvings and lettering of a dead language covering its walls. The stone soldiers, with nicks in their blades and chinks in their armor, went completely unnoticed as you tripped over a star-shaped indent in the floor. Picking yourself up, and simultaneously dropping your things, you rise off the ground, as you must be used to.
Intrigued, or lost, you made it into a long room with splatters of blood along the floor and walls, but you were unperturbed. The only detail that caught your eye was the shining star in the hand of the soldier-shaped sarcophagus at the far end of the room. Bumbling and meandering through the room, you began activating a gauntlet of traps, pitfalls, shooting darts, crushers and saw blades. All of these mechanisms of death missing you, for they are designed to kill bipedal, sentient life forms. Clearly, you only qualify for the last of those. Regardless, you make it to the end, and snatching the star medallion, you let out a cry of victory and stomp back to the main chamber, where you lose your footing again on the same imprint. This time dropping your trophy next to the imprint and putting two and two together, you place the star into the indent opening a hidden staircase in the floor.
As you enter the room at the bottom, the light of your torch glints off of metal chests and clay pots that line the walls. As you walk further in, light shimmers off discarded weapons and armor that are scattered upon the floor. When you reach the back of the room, your torchlight reflects off the slick gray skin of a towering creature with a round, bald head. The thin abomination starts to turn toward the light. First, you see its ear holes, than one closed eye followed by a giant reddened orange eye with a saucer-sized pupil that shrinks as it focuses in on you. You see its yellowed perfect cone teeth as its smile spreads from ear hole to ear hole. It raises its one, long arm with two elbows that extend its reach to the ground from a standing position.  It has fingers with eight joints that curl like centipedes as it makes a fist to block its eye. You see its black feather cloak covering its body and hear scraping as its twelve black talons drag along the ground while it moves toward you. Its long, thin tongue, with a spiked organ, licks the lipless edge of its mouth.
Now you stand before me as I tell you everything you just did based solely on the damn noise your imbecilic spelunking has caused. You must be wondering if the armor strewn about belonged to your fellow idiots, which, of course, it does. But what happened to them you must now want to know, and the answer is simple: I have five rows of teeth sharper than the knife you are shakily holding toward me, I have talons that can shred metal easier than axes cut trees, and I move faster than shadows chased away by the light. All who found themselves in your place who ran, I caught. All who hid, I found. All who fought, I tortured. Now that you're shiting yourself, I should mention there is hope, however, you must answer one question. What year is it?