131 rooms · levels 14–50
The road gives out at the edge of a gloomy forest, and a dark trail runs on east beneath the trees. Large trees block out the sky, their twisted trunks almost crying out to you, and the smell of death is thick enough to churn the stomach. A muddier track leads west toward a chorus of frogs, and the road lies back to the south. This is, without a doubt, the way into Darkenwood, so named since the day the demon Hecate claimed it as her own; since then few have dared to enter the forest to face her or her coven.
The dark trees loom over you. The grass here is about three feet high but is trampled flat along the trail, as though a great many feet have passed this way in the last few days. The trail runs east toward a clearing and back west to the forest's edge.
This is a small opening in the woods. The spongy ground smells of decay, ferns grow thickly around the edge of the clearing, and dozens of bones lie scattered at your feet. Eerie howls echo out of the forest. The trail turns north here into the woods, and the way back to the road is to the west.
Here the dark trail forks. The main trail runs north toward an open glade and back south to the clearing, while an old, mossy path branches off to the east. The underbrush is a tangle of old, dead thorn bushes that puts an end to any thought of trailblazing, and the sky is shut out by the twisted branches above. You feel as though you are being watched.
Here an open field of dead grass begins. A single pole, over fifteen feet high, has been planted in the ground, and mounted on its top is a human skull. Thick brambles clog the edges of the glade and the dark trees tower over them. The glade opens out to the north, the trail runs back south to the fork, and a foot path wanders off to the west.
This glade is wide open to the sky, yet the waist high grass and the fallen logs have a dull gray tint to them, and even the sky above seems gray. Darkenwood looms all around the edge of the field, hiding unknown horrors; eastward the forest is choked with a thick fog, and beyond it a great stone mountain rises, covered in dense forest. A thin column of smoke rises from the hills to the northwest. The path crosses the glade from south to north.
A thick briar patch grows here at the edge of the trees. Deeper in the forest screams can be heard. On the ground is a pile of cracked bones, drained of all their marrow. A large set of footprints disappears into a tunnel through the briars to the north, a trail heads west toward the smoke, and the glade lies back to the south.
You are treading through a small tunnel under the briar. Large insects scurry about underfoot and sap drips on you from above. The little used trail runs north toward a horrible stench and back south to the glade.
The opening of a hand-carved cave lies to the east, and a wretched stench wafts out of it along with muffled cries. The thick mat of brambles overhead blocks out all light. The briar tunnel leads back south.
This chamber has a high, domed ceiling black with soot. A large pile of refuse rests here, made up of dung, offal and chewed pieces of meat. An archway opens to the south into another room, and the cave mouth lies to the west.
This is a filthy, hand dug room. Garbage lies all about, and bones and skulls are scattered across the floor, most of them crushed from being carelessly stepped on. A stone table rests against the wall. A thick door blocks the way east and an archway leads north.
This is a small room carved into a limestone wall. An overpowering stench hits you as you enter. The floor is littered with refuse, garbage and bones, and the flies are so thick that you can hardly see into the depths of the room. Rats scurry in all directions. The only way out is the door to the west.
This trail is thick and overgrown. The underbrush around you is full of brambles and very large ferns, and twisted branches rise overhead, blocking out the sky. The insects seem fewer here, perhaps because of the smoke in the air. The trail runs east to the glade and west into darkness.
At this crossing someone has staked half a dozen pig poles, each over twelve feet tall and each topped with the head of some hapless traveler. A spot of sky shows overhead where the branches of these evil trees thin. The trail runs east toward the glade and north toward the smoke, and it looks as if someone has recently broken through the brush to the west.
The remains of a small campfire sit here, hidden in the brush. A large number of men camped here not long ago, and they went to great lengths to hide it; now the campsite is overrun. The broken brush leads back east to the trail.
This dark forest trail is littered with tracks. The smell of smoke is close, and in the distance you hear wild calls and chants. The trail runs north into the darkness and south to the pig poles.
Here two paths meet: a large one running north and south, and a smaller trail vanishing to the east toward the glade. The air is thick with smoke and full of howls and cries. Just to the north you hear a vast collection of shouts, and through the darkness of the woods some light shines from that way, possibly a fire.
The path cuts into a stony canyon here. Dung and bits of fur are scattered about, signs of much coming and going. To the south is only silence, but the north is filled with hoots and animal cries, and a fire burns brightly that way.
The canyon walls rise almost a hundred feet above you, stone of deep reds and oranges where nothing grows at all. Just to the north a huge fire rages. A small archway leads steeply down to the west, and a fierce smell rises from it. The path leads south out of the canyon.
You emerge from the archway into a round room carved into the canyon wall by water ages ago. A smooth chimney rises above you to the open sky. Before you lie hundreds of pounds of stinking, rotting, repulsive garbage; you'd hate to guess what might be living in the heap. The archway leads back east.
A huge fire roars away here, almost burning you. Wood and bones line the coals of this massive blaze, and the air is filled with insane cries and calls. To the east a tunnel has been carved into the rock, and to the west a natural cave opens. Looming over the fire to the north is a huge throne carved into the living rock of the canyon's end. The path leads back south.
Here is the throne of the chief, and quasi-god, of the gritha. The throne is crudely carved out of the northern wall of the box canyon. Just above it is a massive carving of the claw of Malar, god of Bloodlust, far older than any of the other stonework here. The fire is to the south.
This high ceilinged cave has smooth stone walls, washed out by running water ages ago. Now it serves as the living quarters of the gritha tribe; comparatively speaking it is clean and bare. Fresh air blows in from the archway to the east.
This cave has been tediously carved out of the living stone of the mountain. All along the walls skulls hang like ornaments, and bones litter the floor. The smell of blood is thick, and a stream of it runs out toward the fire to the west.
The path is very dark here and a thick mist closes in. A mat of moss underfoot hides an old cobblestone path; after years of neglect little remains but broken stones, most buried just below the moss and leaves. Many ferns grow here, some taller than a full grown man. The path runs east into the mist and west to the fork.
The mist has grown very thick here; you can hardly see your own feet. Sweat trickles down the back of your neck as you feel hungry eyes watching from just beyond your sight. The cobblestone path runs east and west, and a narrower trail cuts away to the north.
You stand in an open yard filled with thick clumps of dead grass. Just to the east is an aged white picket fence, its paint peeling and many of its planks broken; the cobblestone path runs through it to a cottage and away to the west. A smaller, muddy path crosses the yard from north to south. The sky is blotted out by the mist.
You stand before an old cottage fallen into decay. The walls sag, and many planks have broken free and dangle from the outside. The ancient thatched roof is full of holes, and above it, almost lost in the mist, is the rusted shape of a widow's walk. To the east the peeling door hangs by one hinge; the yard is to the west.
The cottage has been devastated. The tables are broken, the bed has rotted into an unrecognizable heap, and the cabinets hang open with their contents spilled across the floor. The floorboards creak under every step and mice scurry for cover. A small iron ladder leads up to a hatch in the roof, and the broken door leads outside to the west.
This is a square platform of rusty iron bars on top of the cottage, with a rail of vertical spikes along every side. From here you can see the gloomy form of the dark forest all about the cottage, though the mist is far too thick to see far. A small hatch leads down into the cottage.
The mud in the trail is several inches deep, slowing your progress greatly, and there is a constant patter of water falling from the unseen branches far overhead. To the north the path opens into a yard; the trail bends away to the east.
The trail here is choked with mist. The green plants drop volleys of large water droplets on you as you brush past them, and the foliage grows thick and full. The trail runs straight east and west.
This open trail is crowned by lush green growth. Small pines grow all around and the hard red branches of mansineata trees dangle over you like loving arms. The air is clear and fresh, though an evil mist can be seen down the trail to the west. The forest opens into a lush green field just to the south.
You stand at the top of a lush hill with forest on three sides. A trail disappears into the dark forest to the north, and to the south the field opens into a beautiful meadow. The great open sky shines above, filling you with relief. Down the hill you see a well and a cottage.
You are at the north end of a lush green meadow, with the forest rising on all sides. A steep hill climbs to the north. Just to the south a foot path crosses a vegetable garden beside a small well, and beyond it a simple little cottage stands with smoke curling from its chimney.
You stand on a path in the center of a vegetable garden. It looks recently planted, as nothing is growing yet. Just east of here is a well, and to the south is the porch of a small cottage with a wisp of smoke rising from the chimney. North of here a green hill rises toward the dark forest.
You stand in a lush field beside the well. The garden is just to your west, and through some trees you can make out the cottage. A shiver runs down your spine as you look back at the dark forest beyond the hill.
You stand on a porch in front of the cottage. The walls are plastered white and the roof is thick thatch. The unceasing sound of someone hammering metal rises from within. The door opens to the east; the vegetable garden lies to the north, and a meadow full of flowers opens to the west.
You are at the far end of the meadow. Far off beyond the garden the dark forest broods, and high, forest covered mountains surround you on all sides. Beautiful flowers grow all around. A pleasant cottage rests just to the east.
This is the cottage of Able the Smith, where he works day in and day out forging the finest of goods. A large furnace burns, sending wisps of smoke up the chimney, and a simple cot stands in the corner. The stone floor is littered with scraps of metal and pieces of coal. The only way out is the door to the west.
Dark trees crowd around you and the evil mist chokes this unholy place so completely that you cannot see more than a few feet. Eyes peer out at you from all directions. What little of the trail you can make out runs north and south. The smell of death is thick here.
The mist is not so thick here. Small forest animals lie scattered about, all dead of some vile disease, and the flies are thick as they feast on the dead and dying. The tree trunks all around drip with a thick slime. A path leaves to the south, and another escapes this place of death to the east.
Several paths meet here. One wanders into the trees to the south toward an old cottage, while the other two vanish east and west into the mist. Large rocks jut out of the ground, making walking difficult. The trees in this part of the forest seem much older than the rest, and long stands of lichen hang from their mossy trunks.
You stand at the north side of an old cottage cloaked in the mist. It is falling apart: the walls buckle under the roof's weight and many of the windows are broken. The muddy path runs south into its yard and north into the mist. Just to the east, through a gate, lies a private cemetery.
A few dozen grave stones lie scattered about. The grass here is very tall but has been trampled a great deal recently, and the mist seems to rise from the ground itself. The feeling of evil is so overpowering that you have to fight to keep from vomiting. The one tree that grew here is twisted and very, very dead. More stones lie to the east, and the gate out is just to the west.
The mist is unusually thick here; you can hardly see. An old picket fence once closed off this part of the graveyard but it has long since fallen to pieces. A few dozen graves sit all about, and many small holes have been dug in the ground. After a moment it occurs to you that the mist is indeed rising from the soil. The rest of the cemetery lies to the west.
The mist is rather thin here, hugging the limbs high above you. The path is wet underfoot and runs east and west. To the east you hear the sounds of battle, sword against sword. Just to the north, through the brush, the form of a huge tree is barely visible in the mist.
A feeling of peace fills you as you see this beautiful tree. It stands a hundred feet tall, and its huge trunk is covered in a thick mat of bright green moss; its highest branches disappear into a bright fog. Tall ferns and thick brush surround you on all sides, and you hear birdsong above. The brush opens to the south onto the path.
You are aloft almost sixty feet in the tree's branches. The view of the forest all around and of the thick fog is breathtaking. Some birds, the first you have seen in this accursed forest, perch in the branches singing joyously. The trunk leads back down.
The path is rather wide here, enough for two to walk abreast. The dark trees loom above, blotting out the sky; large fungi grow on their trunks and thick mosses and lichens hang from their branches. The sounds of battle echo through the forest from the northeast. The path runs east and west.
The path coming in from the west forks here, one trail running north and the other south. Planted in the center of the crossing is a stake topped with a helmeted human skull. No words accompany the marker, but its meaning is painfully obvious. The sounds of battle rise from the north, and a stench of rot drifts up from the south.
The ground of this dark forest path is pooled with blood, some fresh and some old, and clouds of insects have come to feast. Large mushrooms grow at your feet. An overgrown trail, little used, leads east, while the main path runs south to the fork and north into a small field from which the sounds of a fray can be heard.
Corpses litter the ground: a band of knights made their last stand here. The grass is sticky with blood and a multitude of vultures soar overhead, waiting to land and pick the corpses clean. The dark, twisted trees loom over the scene like quiet spectators. A path wanders back south into the forest, and a trail of blood leads north into the pines.
The trail climbs steeply here toward a clear pine grove to the north. The trees around you seem greener and healthier than the rest of Darkenwood. The trail of blood leads on north, and back to the south the pines thin toward the battlefield.
You stand in the midst of a clear pine grove. Most of the trees are rather young, a thick mat of grass grows underfoot, and several huge rocks lie about, covered in a thick coat of emerald green moss. A patch of grass has been stained red with blood. A small trail leaves to the south.
This trail was once well used; now it is overgrown and choked with weeds, and the branches overhead are heavy with spider webs. You have to hack and push your way through the thick brush, and just as you think you have lost the trail altogether you find a hint of cobbles underfoot. North of here you see a small clearing, and to the west is a far clearer path.
Strong, healthy pine trees stand all around you. Much of the brush has been torn up and a small tree broken in two; it looks as if a fight took place here, and someone fled north through the trees, leaving a trail of blood. The battlefield lies to the south.
You stand in a dark circular clearing under a dome of dark branches, marked out by a ring of large stone blocks. It looks as if some ceremony was held here not long ago: the dirt is covered with small hoof prints and blood has been spilt in the center of the circle. An almost impassable, overgrown trail leaves to the south, and down a dark trail to the east torches flicker.
A thick stone wall rises to the north, and at its center stands a huge iron gate, tortured and rusted with age and topped with large barbed spikes. The center of the gate is adorned with a thick, heavy lock in the shape of a black widow. Thick mats of webbing cover the gate and hide what lies beyond. Just to the west is a small clearing.
You stand in a dark, overgrown grove inside the wall. Spiders seem to be everywhere, their webs filling the branches, and small bones and pieces of chitin lie in the grass. The rusted gate stands just to the south. An old vineyard lies to the west and a cluster of oaks to the east, and an old stone path leads north to a circle of standing stones.
Long since overgrown with brush, the wild vines and broken trellises show that this was once a small vineyard. The stone wall closes the vineyard's southern side and bends north along its western edge. To the east you can see the gate in the southern wall, and to the northeast some standing stones are visible. A large patch of brambles grows to the north.
You stand in a cluster of tall oaks. These proud trees have been encased in the misty webbing of the spiders; the trunks are sticky with web resin and baby spiders keep falling out of the branches onto you. The high stone wall closes the grove's southern and eastern sides, as though this is the corner of an old garden. The gate is to the west, and a small field lies to the north.
A huge blackberry bush, fifteen feet tall, grows to the north, and its numerous thorns convince you that pushing through it would be quite painful. The brush is full of spider webs and multitudes of small spiders scurry out from under the bush. To the south lies the old vineyard, and to the east you can see a mystic-looking circle of monoliths standing tall in this cursed grove.
A small field of withered grass grows in this corner of the walled garden. The black, twisted remains of an oak are still rooted here, and small spiders have spun webs in its branches. A thick wall of thorns fills the northern part of the garden. The cluster of oaks is to the south, and a circle of monoliths stands to the west.
You are standing in the circle of stones. Each stone is roughly rectangular and stands about twenty feet tall. At the edge of your hearing is an almost inaudible humming, and a deep sadness seems to emanate from all around. A small, unadorned stone altar rests in the center of the circle. To the north a huge wall of thorns runs east and west, and a small foot path wanders into it; another runs south toward the gate. A blackberry bush lies to the west and a small field to the east.
A voice calls out... 'The balance is broken... Heceta must be stopped! before...' Nothingness...
You are on a small stone foot path between tall brambles, leading from a great tree to the north back to the circle of standing stones to the south. Something seems to be drawing you north, some drive you can't put a finger on... something evil is calling you on. Small birds take to the sky as you pass.
The small foot path leads up to and encircles the trunk of a huge oak tree. Its branches are vast and block out the sky, and spiders scurry all across its gigantic trunk. There is a deep rumble from below, almost as if something ancient is about to awake. The path leads back south.
You have to duck low to avoid being caught in the masses of thorns and webbing all around you. Small spiders swarm out of a large hole in the ground; they are everywhere, crawling on you and getting inside your armor! Their bites are harmless but painful. The hole leads down, and the way out of the bush is to the south.
You are down on all fours, pulling your way through this crawlway. Spiders cover the stone all around you; there seems to be no end to them. The steep tunnel flattens out here and opens into a larger chamber to the west, from which the strong smell of death rises. Some light leaks in from the hole directly above you.
You stand in a large chamber covered in spider webs. Spiders swarm on every surface, and the floor is littered with pieces of bone and eaten animals. Hanging in the webs are the cocooned forms of many victims, human and animal alike, and many egg sacs litter the room. The only exit is the tunnel to the east.
You are slogging through almost a foot of mud, making progress very slow. Dead trees cluster around you, their twisted branches breaking as you push through. The track runs west toward a thundering chorus of frogs and east back to the trail. Through the brush to the north you think you hear laughing...
You stand in a circle of dead trees ringing a small pool of water. The pool seems unspectacular and could be no more than a foot deep, but a strange aura surrounds it. There is only silence here, broken by the large insects buzzing about. The brush opens back to the south.
You are on the south shore of a small lake. The waters are as black as night and a thick mist hangs over them, and from all around comes the croaking of frogs, rising into the sky like an inhuman chorus. For a moment the fog clears and you can make out a small island out in the mist to the north; then, as quickly as it happened, the fog swallows it again. The muddy track leads east.
All you can see is a thick mist. The sky is dark and offers no light to guide you, and the water laps calmly around you. The shore is just to the south; the black lake stretches away north and west.
You are startled by the cries of marsh birds as they take flight from the branches of a half submerged tree growing out of the middle of the lake. The black waters lap below you, hiding many unseen horrors. The mist will not relent and you are still without a view of the sky; dark shapes in it seem to play tricks with your sense of direction.
The water spans in every direction, vanishing into the mist. Large dragonflies dance through the air. In the distance you can see boglights and hear the hypnotic song of a multitude of frogs. This is the western edge of the lake, where the reeds grow thick.
A thin yellow film lies on the black waters below you. You see the shimmer of movement beneath the surface and then... nothing. The mist grows thick here, almost taking on a life of its own. Through it, to the north, a light glows.
Jutting out of the water on stilts just to the east is a small building that is nearly falling over. There is a large hole in the roof and light streams out of the window. A small, rotting dinghy floats out front. Clashing with the eerie howls in the dark, a jovial chorus of banjo playing rises from within.
You have to watch your step in this small cabin, as the floorboards are rotting and already sport many holes down to the dark waters below. A small wooden table holds a dented plate and other filthy eating utensils. A large piece of driftwood hanging on the wall reads 'Home Sweet Home.' A lantern hanging from the ceiling lights the room. The door leads back out onto the lake to the west.
The waters are strangely calm here and the mist hangs close. The darkness around you is filled with the chirping of crickets and the chorus of frogs, and in the distance, somewhere to the north, a bell is ringing.
Several trees grow out of the water here, their vines hanging down all around you, and you have to push your way through them as you go on into the fog. Very close by you hear a howl.
Just to the north a small island juts out of the water, rocky and without vegetation, and beyond it stands a crumbling black tower. It may once have been an impressive sight, but now it is desolate and ruined. From the top of the tower a bell begins to toll.
A small footpath runs north and south across this rocky island. The lake lies to the south and the tower just to the north. The thick mist hugs the island, and the waters lap endlessly at the shore.
You stand at the rotting gate of the once-proud tower of Azaran. The gate to the north is a huge wooden thing with rusted iron reinforcements, at the top of a small set of four crumbling steps. The footpath leads back south to the shore.
You are at the bottom of the crumbling tower of Azaran. From the rotting tapestries and the furniture crushed by rocks fallen from above, this must once have been a comfortable living area. Large holes in the stone walls have let the weather in and the furniture has rotted badly. A stone staircase leads up to the next level of the tower, and the gate is to the south.
It appears that the floor above you has almost completely collapsed leaving this floor nothing more than a huge pile of rubble. The crumbling stairs exit down as well as continue further up. Above you a large bell begins to toll.
This level of the tower seems to have completely fallen away. In fact, it stands on no more than a few pieces of stone jutting out of the wall. To make it further up you will have to jump to the remaining steps and hope they hold. You had better move fast. Figuring that the rest of the floor has fallen away there is little doubt that the rest could go at any second.
This room is almost completely intact. Old, warped book cases lean against the walls. Scattered on the floor are numerous books with their pages spilling out. A pentagram has been drawn on the floor with an extinguished candle at each point. A small stairway leads up and another crumbling one leads down.
The wind howls around you as you are pelted by small drops of rain. The thick mist whips and swirls about. A large bell hangs above you ringing in the wind. The roof above has almost collapsed and the walls around you no longer stand higher than piles of rubble. Far below you can see the dark lake.
Someone, or something, has been using this clearing as a refuse heap. Bones litter the ground and a cloud of flies dances around the rotting meat left on them. Most of the bones have been smashed for their marrow; most are from large animals like cows or horses, but many are human and elf. A small trail leads north into the woods, and a huge cave looms to the east.
You squeeze your way between two large redwoods. The trail is almost nonexistent here. Just to the north you can see a clearing, and to the south the trail grows even more overgrown. The plant life here is unusually lush and green; large ferns grow around you and you can hear birds singing in the trees.
You had to crawl under a fallen log to squeeze this far into the dense forest. The warm smell of earth is all around. To the north is a narrow path between the trees, and to the south you can see a lush opening in the woods.
Fireflies dance all about you. Tall trees crowd around this small clearing, blocking out the sky, and the thick grass invites you to stretch out and take a long nap. The magic here is so thick that it makes your skin tingle, and you feel waves of peace washing over you. The only way out is the trail to the north.
This hall was carved right out of the living rock of the mountain, its ceiling some twenty feet above you. All along the walls huge torches burn brightly, and strange noises echo from deeper within. Daylight can be seen to the west, and the hall runs on east into the dark. The stone walls seem freshly carved; this tunnel can be no more than a few years old.
The ceiling here is almost forty feet above you, and flickering torchlight dances on the stone walls. Carved in relief on one wall is a huge man wrestling with a mighty dragon, old and worn with age; these halls must be hundreds of years old, far older than the tunnel behind you. A high archway leads east, a large stone door stands to the south, and the rough new tunnel leads back west.
This large stone room is hung with tapestries and filled with long stone tables. Bones and rotting meat litter the floor. A hot wind blows through the door to the north, and the domed room is to the west.
The air here is sweltering as the furnace burns with a fury. A huge cauldron bubbles, and a skull bobs to the top for a moment. The cries of animals can be heard nearby. South of here is the mess hall, and on the east wall is an iron door.
Here the giants keep their food fresh, and alive, while it awaits its turn to be cooked. The room has a low ceiling, and the shackles on the wall suggest it serves as a prison too. Hot air blows through the grate in the iron door to the west.
The size of this hall makes you gasp. Your light cannot reach the ceiling, and the echo of your speech and breathing only deepens the mystery. Large stone columns support the arched walls, and carvings of great giant gods and goddesses are scattered about. A passage leads east and another west, the hall continues south toward a huge archway, and a large stone door rests to the north.
This hall runs east and west. The ceiling is about twenty feet tall and carved smooth. To the east is an archway, and to the west is the great hall.
This large room has a twenty foot ceiling and is about fifty feet long. The floor is littered with cots and piles of animal skins, and torches burn on the walls. The archway leads back west.
This stone hallway runs east and west. The floor here is unusually clean. The great hall is to the east, and torches burn to the west.
This huge room boasts the triumphs of a great warrior. Animal pelts hang from every wall, and the bed itself is a heap of pelts in one corner. Large torches light the room, and spears and swords line the walls, as do the heads of many victims. The hallway leads back east.
You stand aghast at the size of this hall. The walls are expertly carved into the images of giant gods and goddesses, and large pillars line the east and west walls. Two huge bronze doors stand to the south. Halls lead off to the east and west, and the great hall continues north.
This is an east-west hallway. You can hear the ring of a hammer on metal just to the east, and the great hall lies to the west.
You stand in the midst of a huge smithy. A large furnace burns against the east wall and a large anvil stands in the center of the room. Hanging on the walls are crude, poorly made arms and armor. The only exit is to the west.
This is an east-west hallway. To the east you see the great hall; to the west you can hear chanting.
You stand in a large pillared room. At the far west end is a huge statue of a bear-like beast standing over the corpse of a devastated elf, and the altar is a huge stone claw reaching out of the ground, the remains of a human soldier upon it. Candles line the walls, filling the room with an eerie light, and a fire burns in a pit before the altar. The archway leads back east.
This is a circular stone room. The floor is shiny black tile, old and cracked. A pair of large bronze doors loom to the north, and an archway leads to a large room to the south. The doorway to the west seems empty, and a foreboding feeling rises from it. To the east is an ornately carved wooden door.
This was once a shrine to Yakith, giant god of valor and strength. Now the walls are scorched with fire and the altar lies in two pieces, split by a bolt of lightning. The chamber vibrates with a sense of foreboding. The arch leads back east.
You feel sleeeeeeeeeeepy......... Sleeeeeepy.... tired...bye bye...
You are being moved...
This might once have been a throne room, but now it is in ruin. The walls have tumbled down and the room is clogged with rubble. A makeshift throne has been made from stones, skulls and pelts, though it looks more like a pile of stones, skulls and pelts than a throne. An archway leads north, and some rubble has been cleared to open a passage to the west.
The smell of death is strong here, rising from the west. This long stone hallway collapsed not long ago; much of the rubble has been cleared, but it is still hard going over what remains. What is left of the passage runs east and west.
You are in a large stone crypt. On stone slabs and in niches in the walls lie the bones of generations of dead giants. Many of the bodies seem fresh, and the three slabs set aside for kings bear bodies that seem to have been laid there at the same time: some disaster struck this once-great tribe not long ago. The passage leads back east.
This is a short hall running east and west. A large, ornate door lies to the east, and the carved wooden door of the guard room is to the west.
You are in a large room carved out of stone. A huge pile of sheep skins makes a good bed, a lion's skin hangs on the north wall, and several human and animal heads are mounted on the south wall. The hallway is to the west. The east wall is bare and of a slightly different stone than the rest. On a table is a small cage with its door swinging open.
You walk into a large, seemingly natural cavern. The floor is sandy and the walls are rough stone. To the east you can see a huge cavern and hear the howling of the wind. The western wall is off-colored and made of smooth stone.
You are in a huge cavern with no sign of a ceiling. Before you a great chasm spans the length of the cave, and a powerful wind blows up from its depths. A small, rickety rope bridge spans the chasm to the east, swinging back and forth in the strong wind. The tunnel leads back west.
You clutch the bridge tightly to keep from being flung into the chasm below. The fall would be at least a thousand feet, and no bottom can be seen. Hurry: it is very dangerous to stay on this bridge.
You stand on the east side of the huge chasm. The wind howls from deep within it, and the small, dangerous looking rope bridge spans it to the west. The bottom can't be seen and your stomach churns as you look down. A tunnel vanishes into darkness to the east.
This passage is very long; it seems to stretch on forever. Water drips from the ceiling and sand crunches under your feet, and dark shadows on the walls play tricks with your mind. The passage leads back west toward the chasm, and a slab of stone closes it to the east.
This room has rough, broken walls and thick sand on the floor. Rust colored stains cover the walls. A light breeze can be felt from the hallway leading north, and the long passage leads west.
You stride along the long hall. It climbs steeply to the north, and at its end you can see a cave mouth and... daylight! Fresh air flows over you as you go on. The stone chamber is to the south.
You are almost there. This long climb has brought you up a few hundred feet, and the cave opening is just a little further north.
You stand in a small cave. The outside is just a few feet to the north, and beyond you can see a misty, overgrown grove of trees; a dark chant can be heard from somewhere within it. A long passage descends into the darkness to the south.
You stand in a thick forest. Large leafy plants grow all around, and a thick mist rolls past, whispering warnings to you. A small footpath runs north, and a small cave huddles in the rocks to the south.
You move onward. Torches burn beside the path and skulls line your way. You break through a thin wall of webbing; your stomach knots and sweat drips from your brow. Just to the north you can make out a small misty clearing full of figures: the hags are close. A dark chanting grows louder and louder, and this place reeks of evil. Shadows laugh and dance about you, taunting you to go further north.
Dark magics swirl around you and a thick mist bubbles out of the soil. The trees are dead, frozen in a silent scream; the forces at work here have poisoned the land, and the place has been totally consumed by evil. A black crow with red glowing eyes watches you from its perch. Shadows of otherworldly creatures dance at the edge of your vision. The path leads back south.
Marble...soft glow... Nuff said.