113 rooms · levels 40–51
Winding its way out from the canopy of redwoods, the path ends at a towering spire. The ground around the foot of the spire has been cleared, so that nothing can take cover or creep up on the tower unseen. Fields of magic can be sensed almost everywhere by the wary, and a couple of mages blink in and out of sight along the way, sentinels watching for the uninvited. The path leads north beneath a marble arch, and a road marked by stone cairns runs south across the downs.
The stone pathway passes beneath a grandiose marble arch here, towering over the pathway and providing some shadow underneath for weary travelers. In the middle of the arch, the path enters a beautiful spire of stone, shimmering in all the visible colors of the spectrum in some magically pre-ordained pattern. To the south, the grounds of the tower come to an end, while to the north the path disappears into the darkness.
A wide marble foyer is here, inside the base of the massive spire that makes up this tower of sorcery. To the east and west, branching hallways lead off towards large rooms, while to the north and south pathways lead off towards the rest of the tower. A blue nimbus provides light, hanging eerily from the center of the room like a will o' the wisp.
The hallway descends into a deep blackness here, as magically created shadows drape a pall over everything. From what little light is available, exits can be seen to the east and north, a magical hum coming from the latter direction as if something dangerous might be there. Nothing else out of the ordinary can be sensed, although given the powers of the mages running this place, that gives little if any comfort.
This appears to be a quiet forest set almost in the middle of the tower, magically grown and maintained. In the middle of the room stands the most beautiful elf one has ever seen, the guildmistress Freya. She welcomes all with a warm smile, and offers tutoring to the most advanced of mage students. South of here, an exit leads into a shadowy hallway.
This hallway is lit beyond belief, as the globes of light filling the air reflect off the polished walls over and over until the sheen is nearly blinding. Despite the trouble seeing, it can be told that this is a midsized hallway, made of some sort of metallic substance polished to perfection. To the north and west, exits into more dimly lit rooms can be seen. The air is lifeless, as if this part of the tower were deserted.
This room seems to have been built by the mages almost as an afterthought, given its cramped size and shoddy construction. Unlike the rest of this tower, the room has a feel of general hastiness, as if it were decided that it needed building after the rest of the magics that shaped the tower. Most of the room is bare, although a shimmering portal stands in the center of the room, emitting quite a bit of charged magical energy. What lies beyond it is anyone's guess.
The marble corridor has a definite slant to it, rising towards the north as it continues into darkness. The walls themselves are works of art, as magical faerie fire and other illusions illuminate several great moments in magical history, including the raising of this tower just a short while ago (at least as time is measured by the gods). To the south, the halls open up into a large entrance, while to the north is simply a murky darkness.
The sloped hallway is rather dark here, the faerie fire that illuminated it to the south not continuing this way, as if the walls here were waiting for magical history to progress forward before recording the events for posterity. The hallway itself is constructed of black marble, leading north and south, rising in the former direction towards a glittering staircase just a hop, skip, and jump from this spot. The only disconcerting thing about this place is the utter silence, and the mages that sometimes blink in and out; the two combine to unnerve one rather well.
The hallway seems rather dim here, despite the brilliantly glowing topaz staircase spiraling upwards in the center of this room. Perhaps the darkness is a result of the black marble walls, which seem to absorb the light as it is emitted. Despite the lack of vision, a sign is visible hanging eerily near the stairs, emblazoned with a brilliant silver script that glows with the primordial feel of magic. The hallway ends here, but leads back to the south and some of the rest of the tower.
Fluffy pink clouds race past in the yellowish sky, driven by swirling winds that buffet anything floating here. Flashes of silver and gold lightning leap between the clouds, seemingly at random but never quite threatening. Walls of force seem to be everywhere one moment and nowhere the next; the way through lies east, where the sky grows hazy, or back south toward calmer air.
The sky is hazy and humid here, which dampens the wild winds and the flying bolts somewhat. Pink clouds still soar past on the yellow sky, and here and there one might imagine a dragon or two among them, hiding from intruders as if they only wanted a nap. To the east the clouds turn black and the wind screams; the sky is open to the south and west as well.
The winds reach tempest force here, whipping round in a giant cyclone that makes floating a dangerous act in itself. The clouds have turned a very dark black, and golden thunderbolts ricochet back and forth, nearly skewering anything nearby. In this howling mess the walls of force are all but invisible, but a glimmer of yellow and red shows to the south, where a stairway climbs out of the storm. The winds lead back east and west.
Powerful winds buffet this region of dark skies and heavy clouds, making keeping afloat an arduous task. The clouds have darkened to a uniform black and toss lightning about like a child's toys. Loose objects swirl in the gale, slamming into the shifting walls of force. To the west the winds wind themselves into a tremendous cyclone, and the storm also runs south.
The winds grow stronger in this region of open sky and darkening clouds, and floating in place becomes a struggle. Now and then the clouds spit golden and silver lightning, though not this way just yet. The turbulence hides the walls of force well, but they seem to close off the east and the west, leaving the sky open north and south.
The winds are wild here, flinging inky storm clouds across a dark gray sky with little heed for what lies in their path. Between the lightning and the funnel clouds that spin in midair, it is very dangerous to stay long. A glittering staircase shifts from yellow to red and back again, soaring upward into the heavens; the only other way is back north, into the cyclone.
The winds howl all about, driving everything back and forth across a sky gone an ominous gray. Ebony clouds spit silvery lightning, and the air is so dark that the walls of force guiding passage here can barely be seen; a hard throw against one could be deadly. The gale streams north toward the heart of the storm, and south into blackness.
The winds are calm here, leaving fluffy pink clouds to float lazily across the yellowish sky. The glare off the clouds makes the shimmering walls of force hard to see, but a wall of them bars the north and the west; the sky is open to the east and to the south. Something large and cloudlike seems to be lounging nearby.
The winds begin to pick up here, driving the fluffy clouds into circles and all sorts of amazing shapes. Between the gusts and the glare, it is becoming a little risky to linger. A wall of force glows faintly on the eastern side, but the sky stays open to the north, the south and the west.
The sky darkens here to the dirty yellow that comes before a tornado, and the clouds turn ominous as the wind rises. A bolt of bright golden lightning splits the sky now and then, always striking off into the emptiness or against one of the walls of force, which glow with a strong electric charge. The calmer sky lies to the west; the storm grows to the east, and the sky is open to the north as well.
The sky is pitch black here, crossed by masses of gray storm cloud driven by devilish winds that slam every loose object against the walls of force. Those walls can be seen only because they glow with a fierce charge from the lightning the clouds spit out in all directions. It is hard to tell which way is up, but the storm opens to the north and to the west.
This region of the sky is placid, almost enjoyable to float in. The yellow sky holds fluffy pink clouds that simply hang about, like the afterglow of a day just ended. A couple of walls of force sparkle in the glare, standing in for the walls of this strange level of the tower. Open sky leads north, east and south.
A slight breeze stirs the near-motionless clouds here, where the walls of force part in every direction at once. The sky is a calm summer sky in all but its color, stretching away to infinity, though the winds rise to the east and north, where the clouds grow darker. To the south the golden stairway glints, and placid skies lie to the west.
The sky is ominously dark here, darker even than the storm clouds swirling past. The winds howl like a banshee, drowning out the cracks of the lightning that skewers nearly everything in sight. Walls of force, charged and crackling, bar the north and the south; the gale drives on to the east and back to the west.
A glowing golden stairway hangs in the middle of nothing here, its steps leading down out of a sky of brilliant yellow, as if the sun had just set below a horizon that is not there. A few clouds drift almost motionless, white with the faintest blush of pink. Walls of force shimmer in and out of sight all around, but the calm sky is open to the north and to the west.
Pink-tinted clouds float slowly across the quiet yellow sky, nudged now and then by a lazy gust. The air is a little humid but pleasant, and the light that comes from everywhere at once makes a glare that hides the true places of the flickering walls of force. Through the haze the golden stairway glints to the east, and the calm sky drifts on to the north.
This is the eastern end of a cavern carved from gray, chalky rock, much of it scarred by fire. A small staircase shimmers in one corner, changing from yellow to red and back again as it descends into a misty, windy region. A fissure filled with burbling magma runs along the wall, and the cavern opens up to the west, where something growls.
This shadowy corner of the cavern is not overly dark, given the bright pools of magma that dot the floor. The soft rock is blackened by fire, and the floor is littered with gnawed bones and scorched fur, the bedding of the hellhounds that make this cave their den. The cavern runs east toward a shimmering stair and south toward a pool of lava.
A small pool of lava burbles in the middle of the floor, now and then releasing a bubble that rises slowly and pops, spraying scalding drops across the cave. The walls are layers of limestone between harder rock, and blackened sand covers the floor. A narrow, soot-filled tunnel leads west, the hounds' den lies north, and a crack in the south wall opens into a smaller, red-lit cavern.
A chalky limestone dust rises from the rubble-strewn floor with every step, slowly settling back on everything in sight. The cave is eerily silent but for the pop of a magma bubble echoing from a fissure, and the rock glows faintly from within, as if lit by some phosphorescence. A red-glowing tunnel leads west, and the cavern continues east into a cramped corner.
This cramped corner of the cavern (if a cavern in the middle of a tower can be called natural) is lit only by the eerie reddish glow of the rock. It is surprisingly warm and humid, and lava pools scattered across the floor throw their light on charred and blackened walls. The cavern opens to the west, and a crack in the north wall leads into a larger cave with a pool of lava.
A thick coating of limestone dust covers the floor here, hiding the footprints of whatever passed this way before. This is an ordinary volcanic cave, though a little cooler than one might expect. The rest of the cave lies north, and a glowing staircase leads upward, shifting color from green to brown to red and back again.
This cave is a uniform gray, its floor buried under a thick layer of choking black dust. It would seem harmless but for the eerie red light and the small pool of lava bubbling in the middle of the room. A tunnel breathes a warm, humid breeze from the east, and the cave continues south, where the air seems a little cooler.
The heat is oppressive in this large limestone cavern, where great pools of magma boil over and release clouds of steam into the air. A river of lava lies across the floor, content to flow nowhere in particular, and its red glow lights every wall. This is the lair of the red warlock, master of the fires of the Spires. A shaded alcove lies to the west, and a tunnel leads south out of the cavern.
This is a shaded alcove off the main cavern, which lies to the east. The soft red glow of the burbling pools of magma barely reaches here, and scorched rubble lies about, blackened by some tremendous fire whose source is not in sight. It is so warm that the air itself seems to burn the skin.
The tunnel is so warm here that small flames flicker on the pools of molten lava dotting the floor. Its walls are an unusual rock, perhaps magma cooled long ago, still glowing a dull red. The tunnel climbs north, where it opens into a large limestone cavern, and slopes down to the south toward a crossing of tunnels.
The tunnels cross here, a crossroads cut through this level of the tower. The air is extremely warm, as if it might ignite at any moment, and the piles of charred ash suggest it has, more than once. Tunnels lead north, east, south and west, and a sixth sense warns of danger very close at hand.
The tunnel skirts several pools of molten lava here and crosses a narrow stream of it flowing along the floor. Soot covers everything, as if a fire burned here recently, and the reddish rock glows with a light that does not seem quite natural. The tunnel leads north to a crossing and opens east into a limestone cavern.
The tunnel winds through the rock faces here, passing a layer of limestone as it works west to east. A small stream of magma runs along one wall, and huge clawed pawprints mark the scorched dust of the floor. A guttural growl echoes around the tunnel without a distinct source. To the west lies a dusty cavern, and to the east a crossing of tunnels.
This very warm tunnel winds through the rock as if erosion had carved it rather than man or magic. Soot floats on the dead air, and disconcerting piles of charred bones lie along the walls, stripped bare, as though some great carnivore, or many smaller ones, used this place as a midden. The tunnel runs east to a cavern and west to a crossing of tunnels.
The mud floor is drier and firmer here, as if some unseen force had drawn the moisture from the air and set everything to drying out. This is the hall of the green wizard, master of the earth of the Spires. A glitter of blue-green light shows to the east, where a staircase rises, while damp tunnels lead south and west.
The morass grows as thick as it can get here, the swampy mud pooled with water. Great piles of mud have been tossed aside as if by some enormous creature burrowing up through the floor, and the walls are scored by claws. Tunnels lead east and south out of the wallow.
The mud sucks at the feet of anything walking through this swampy stretch, making every step an arduous task. A couple of claw prints lie in the mud, and a guttural growl rolls through the tunnels without giving away where it comes from. Tunnels lead east, south and west into the damp mists.
Slick footing makes up much of this passage, where a damp mist and the mud combine to make walking difficult. The prints of some great clawed beast stick out of the mud, and boulders that should not be here sit along the walls, as if watching. Tunnels lead north into a tarry pit, east, and west toward the red-green stair.
A glowing red-green staircase hovers ominously in the middle of this muddy chamber, leading down into the fiery depths of the tower. The dirt here has been trampled into mud by heavy feet, and a thin mist hangs in the air. Tunnels burrowed through the earth lead north and east, and a growl comes from somewhere nearby.
A thin, damp mist hangs over this passage, coating everything in moisture and turning the muddy floor into a slippery path. The sounds of some large creature echo from everywhere and nowhere, probably the owner of the great claws that left tracks here. The passage runs north and south.
The tunnel grows dim here, the light muffled by a thicker mist, and the dirt of the floor has been trampled into a thin, sticky mud. Large clawed toeprints stick out of the mire everywhere. The burrow runs north toward a swampy wallow and south to the red-green stair.
Two dark tunnels meet in this corner of the burrows, where a fine mist turns the floor into a slippery mud puddle that slowly erases every footprint. Still, some claw prints can be seen, and so can the long scrape of something heavy and stony dragged through the mud. The tunnels lead north and west.
The mud is like tar here, coating the floor of this low chamber and grabbing at anything it can hold. A small pit in one corner looks as though something burrowed into or out of the floor there. A low groaning echoes from somewhere nearby, seeming to come from all around. Tunnels lead north and south.
A thin coating of slimy mud covers the floor here, slick but easily enough held by the careful. A glittering blue-green staircase rises into the ceiling, shimmering in every color in between, and the air above it smells of the sea. The only tunnel leads back west, into the green wizard's hall.
A panorama of blue and white fills the eye. The walls of this corridor are a sparkling ivory marble that glistens with some inner glow, and the whole place is filled with water, glowing an eerie blue like the runes that cover the walls. A staircase leads down, glowing blue, then aqua, then green in a random pattern, and the corridor runs west.
This water-filled corridor meanders east and west. Between the water and the blue runes glowing on the white marble walls, everything has an aqua tinge, as if it lay deep in the ocean. The water ripples as though something were swimming swiftly nearby, close enough to be felt if not heard.
The hallway bends here, turning north and east. The white marble walls glow with an inner light, and azure runes dance along them. The water here does not lie still: a strong undertow pulls at everything, swirling toward a dark seam in the floor where the white marble gives way to black, and anyone who lingers may well be dragged away with it.
The hallway runs north and south, built of a pearly marble that gives off a pure, soft glow. The magical runes flicker here and there, their light shimmering through the water like living artwork. It is still here, though everything suggests that something patrols this level.
The corridor turns here, from south to east. The craftsmanship is exquisite, and plainly proof against the tons of water that fill it. A mix of blue and white light glitters through the water. The currents of this level seem to gather here, and now and then they deposit things, and people, swept away elsewhere.
Perfectly crafted marble walls form an east-west hallway here, set with exquisite artwork and azure runes that could hardly have been made by hand. The water muffles sound and hides the movements of the creatures that live here, and the glow, broken by the shifting water, makes a pattern of sparkles that is beautiful to look at and a headache to see through.
The water flows in odd eddies here, though this whole flooded level ought to be still. The passage runs east and west between glowing pearly marble and azure runes and pictures that cast an eerie pall. Something large and fast seems to swim by, but at a second glance it is gone.
This is the end of the underwater marble hallways. The water is very bright here, as a shimmering blue-white staircase rises through a hole in the ceiling to whatever lies above. The water is still, as if the patrolling creatures did not come this far, but a glance back west shows that they are not far away.
The black marble hallway dead ends here; the only way out is back west. The blue-green runes flicker dimly through the water, and a steady current tugs at everything here toward a crack in the end wall, back toward the brighter halls of white marble.
The runes' azure glow is muted almost to nothing by the black marble walls, and the waters are silent but not still: faint vibrations warn of some aquatic predator close by. In what light remains, the corridor can be seen to run east and west.
This is the middle of a short water-filled corridor of black marble, running east and west. Little can be seen through the murky water, as the walls absorb nearly all the light. Chanting drifts faintly through the stone, and every so often the water surges toward the wall as though something beyond it were drinking it in, dragging along anything that waits here.
The undertow spits everything it carries into this dead end of black marble. The black stone seems to drink in the light, and only a few bright blue runes, their glow vastly muted, dot the walls. The hallway leads east, the only way out.
Mysteriously, this place is drained of water, though the smell of the sea is never far away. The walls are a brilliant blue marble, polished to a shine, and a soft white glow reveals a passage west. Soft chanting comes from somewhere nearby, and so does the sound of a rising tide.
The water is waist high here and still rising slowly. The soft white glow of the corridor and the sheen of the blue marble walls light a pool where the blue witch, mistress of the waters of the Spires, chants over the currents she commands. Strange undertows swirl about the legs. The corridor runs east and west.
This is the west end of the short blue marble corridor. The water is high here and pours in through the walls with no visible opening, and its pull is strong. A soft white glow fills the room but does not pierce the water. The corridor leads back east; those who wait here are soon swept back into the white marble halls.
A soft white glow hangs in the air here, reflected by the mirrors that line the hallway until it makes a glare. The place is very clean and pure, as though well kept, though whoever keeps it is not in sight. The hallway leads south and west, and a blue-white shimmering stairway leads down.
Mirrors line both sides of this north-south hallway, throwing the glow of the lights above into a blinding glare and a million images of anyone passing through. It is surprisingly clean and peaceful, though a few footprints trail through the light dust, and soft singing can be heard somewhere nearby.
The hallway turns here, from north to west, with mirrors along its outer walls only, so they do not cow anyone with infinite images of themselves. The place is clean, as if in regular use, though there are few signs of anyone about, and a feeling of peace and goodness fills it.
A powerful sense of goodness fills this brightly lit hallway, strong enough to make the holy give praise and the wicked show great distress; perhaps the mirrors reflect not only the body but the soul. Shining silver mirrors line both walls. The hallway runs east and west, and one tall mirror in the north wall hangs strangely, as if it were not quite flush with the stone.
The mirrored hallway bends here, turning north and east. The mirrors refract and magnify the light from above into a near-blinding glare, and the place is surprisingly clean for the lack of life about. A swirling staircase of black and white spirals up into the ceiling toward the next level of the tower, and a chill of darkness drifts down it.
The hint of heavenly music echoes through this empty mirrored hallway, lending a tone of purity to what might otherwise be an ordinary corridor. Mirrors line both walls, and the light shining down from above leaves everything shrouded in brilliance. The corridor leads north and south, disappearing into the glare.
The hallway turns again here, running east and south. The floor is time-weathered stone, though the walls are hidden behind great mirrors. The soft white light from above is reflected and magnified until it seems the harsh gaze of truth and purity, an aura that seeps into everything and everyone here.
The mirrored hallway runs east and west, fading into the haze and glare of light reflected again and again. The place seems abandoned, though it is plainly cleaned often. Soft humming comes from nearby, a catchy tune that cannot quite be placed, and it seems to come from behind one of the mirrors in the south wall.
The narrow corridor curves south and west here, winding in a circle between a double row of mirrors. The light is harsh and near blinding, like the holy gaze of some pure being. Little sign of life can be seen, yet a soft chant in a feminine voice comes from nearby.
This is the eastern edge of the circular hallway, the corridor curving north and south around the central wall. Both walls are lined with clear silver mirrors that magnify the soft white glow into a harsh glare. The soft chanting is louder here, as if it came from just behind the mirror on the western wall.
This is the southeastern curve of the hallway, which turns around the central pylon to the north and to the west. The light is soft, though the mirrors on either wall magnify it into haze and glare. It is quiet and clean here, and faint, clean hoofprints mark the dust.
This is the southern curve of the inner loop of this floor. It is quiet and clean, though something must be close by, if the low humming is any indication. Mirrors hang on both walls, reflecting countless distorted images of anything standing between them. The hallway continues east and west.
The corridor curves north and east here, working around the mirrored central wall. A large mirror covers the outer wall too, polished to a bright sheen by someone or something. Little can be seen or heard, and a quick glance about shows few signs of life.
This is the western curve of the inner hallway, bending north and south around the pylon-like wall just east of here. The place is clean, as if kept by creatures whose presence cannot be felt. A low humming seems to come from within the central wall itself.
This is the northwestern curve of the inner hall of this level of the Spires. A simple stone corridor runs between a double line of mirrors, which reflect countless images of anyone standing here and magnify the white light into a blinding glare. The corridor curves east and south around the central wall.
This gently curved corridor bends around a circular structure just south of here. The hall runs east and west between rows of mirrors, as nearly everywhere on this floor, and a soft white glow bathes it in radiance. A voice can be heard singing somewhere nearby.
This appears to be a quiet chamber, roughly circular in shape, and lined with tapestries of gold and silver. The area is extraordinarily clean, and shows clear signs of purity as well, especially from the feeling one gets from standing here. A near-blinding white light shines from all directions it seems, causing a glare that is rather distracting. There are no visible exits.
A dank, swirling black mist seeps in from the east, along the corridor of darkness that starts here. The place looks evil and smells worse, of death and decay. A swirling white and black staircase descends into the floor toward a brighter level, and maniacal laughter sounds from nearby.
Swirling darkness hides much of this bleak hallway. What can be seen is aging stone, furred with mold. The cloying odor of death comes from nearby, and so does a cackling laughter, mocking in its volume. To the east and west the hall disappears into darkness.
An eerie laughter rides the still air here, flowing in with the black fog that swirls from the east and west. The mist hides most of the corridor, and what is left looks like an old and decaying dungeon, complete with the smell. A slight odor of sulfur hangs in the air, as if someone had cast potent fire magic or summoned demons nearby.
The corridor bends here, disappearing into the inky blackness both to the north and to the west of here. For the most part, this simply looks like an abandoned keep hallway, except the odor of decay makes it seem far worse. Too, it doesn't seem quite deserted, as a maniacal laughter echoes from somewhere nearby, raising the hairs on one's neck.
The corridor continues to rise south to north as it moves into the thicker black mists. That mist serves to hide just about everything from sight, a most welcome thing given how bleak this area looks. Unfortunately the fog fails to hide the smell, which seems like a year old battlefield less the vultures picking at decaying corpses. Nothing else seems to be of any great notice.
The corridor continues to rise somewhat as it approaches a thick mist bank to the north. From what little can be seen, this is a moldy old hallway seemingly ripped from an abandoned keep, if the rotted tapestries and carvings on the walls are any indication. A hint of sulfur joins the smell of rotting flesh in the air, making for a most nauseating cloud of gas, though it is not hazardous. Nothing can be heard, as if the denizens of this place were dead or simply very silent.
The corridor turns a bit, sloping gently downward to both the west and south of here. A dark fog covers most of the area, only revealing the crumbling corridors and rotted tapestries, as well as a severed and bleached hand lying in one corner. The odor of death grows a bit stronger here, as if someone or something had died very close nearby. It is rather silent, though a hint of mocking laughter seems to reach this distant spot.
A rolling black fog sweeps in from the west, darkening this place for all but the keenest eyes. From what little can be seen and sensed, this is a rotting keep magically stolen from somewhere distant, knowing the mages who run this place. A strong odor of death, mixed with the sulfur of a demonic summoning, turns weaker stomachs. The hall runs east and west.
The dark fog lifts a bit here, revealing a slight depression in the earth that seems freshly covered with some sort of blood. The corridor branches as well, its westward path ending and turning south deeper into the darkness and rolling mists. A strong hint of sulfur joins the cloying odor of death and decay here, indicating that the otherworldly presence of demons might be out and about somewhere nearby. A sinister laughter echoes through the area as well.
The hallway runs north and south through this level of darkness that seems to have no end, its walls in severe disrepair. A small pool of mostly dried blood lies along the east wall, and a faint sulfurous draft seems to seep from the stones above it. To the south the floor drops away in a slick, blood-greased slope that no one could climb back up.
The hallway narrows here, heading east and west through this ruined part of the tower. The fog has lifted somewhat, allowing a full appreciation of how badly the place is kept. The odor of death is less here, but the sulfurous smell of demons and fire magic has grown tenfold. A steep chute opens high in the north wall, too slick to climb. The air is still and remarkably silent.
The corridor turns from west to north here, leading off into the darkness and the endless hallways of this tattered level. Only a hinting of the earlier mists remains, and likewise for the odor of death which seems to have fled before the sulfur that now rides the current of the breeze. The chanting seems to have intensified, and one can almost feel the crackling of the air as ethereal magics seem to take hold.
This short stretch of north-south corridor runs ever deeper into the evil auras that radiate from somewhere close by. The air crackles with arcane energies, and a sixth sense might pick up the otherworldly presence of demons. The breeze is still, and mercifully the odors of death have gone. The chanting grows ever louder, as if its source is getting close.
The corridor turns again, south and west the exits from here now as it wanders ever deeper into the heart of darkness. From nearby comes the rather loud sounds of chanting, and a palpable feeling of menace is about. The odor of sulfur drowns out anything else that might try to ride the slight breeze in these corridors, indicating that fire magic may be at work nearby.
This area of corridor seems rather unique for this floor in that it seems rather well kept, as the rotting tapestries have been cleared away and the floor seems somewhat repaired, if by unskilled hands. The chanting seems to hit its peak here, as the ghostly voice is very loud, and mages can sense that a planar gate is open nearby, from the howling that can be heard and the overpowering scent of sulfur. West and east of here the hallway continues, though neither direction seems overly appetizing.
The corridor turns east and south here, leading away into the blackness. The ghostly chanting that has been nearby seems to be coming from here, though no source is apparent. Most likely, it's summoning something into the onyx pentagram carved into the floor, if the hazy form appearing in it is any indication. The area has an aura of sinister darkness, given the great evils being worked here, and it seems to be a bit darker than everywhere else on this floor.
The black hallway leads north and south from here, and it has returned to its crumbling ways, as it is plainly not kept up. The smells of sulfur and death compete, an unusual but still nauseating mixture. The air is silent, as if whatever master is near were planning a next move instead of gloating. A cold draft breathes from a crack in the east wall, and the south end of the hall tips into a steep, slick chute.
This appears to be a rather small room, its only feature being the shimmering staircase ascending into the ceiling and to whatever twisted trial might be next. Other than that, it's a cramped but rather clean place, with only an exit to the west of here. The aura of evil that has been a fact of life on this level seems to be no less from above, making one wonder what might be next.
This appears to be a cramped but sturdy room, capped by a brilliant shining silver dome rising twenty or more feet above the center. The primary feature of this room is the shimmering stairway descending back to the previous floor of the tower, right beneath the apex of the dome, while a yellow door lies in the south wall.
Tapestries depicting the elemental plane of air are hanging from the walls of this chamber. The roof itself is made of solid gold, a dome rising high above the area, and holding off the outside elements, even if it does little to stop the chill that must be evident this high off the earth. In the north wall lies a yellow door, while a red one lies along the south wall.
Flickering flames erupt from small crevices along the walls of this circular room, warming it considerably but posing a potential hazard to the clumsy. Other than that, the room is rather plain, though a mosaic lies along the floor in the center of the room. Looking up, one can see a dome made of polished copper, darkened by fire damage to a deep crimson color that somehow seems appropriate. A red door lines the north wall, while its counterpart opposite is green.
The air seems a bit stale here in this room, as if it had not been disturbed for a while. A mound of packed earth, almost like some sort of tomb lies along one wall, seemingly a testament to some higher power. Rising above the room is a dome of emerald, glowing beneath the open skies above. A green door is embedded in the north wall, while a deep blue one lines the south wall.
The air grows thick and humid here, though the chill remains, almost as if this were magically maintained within this room. Small statues are equally spaced around the room, depicting various aquatic predators in stages of attack. Far above the room rises a blue coral dome, blocking out sight of the skies above. In the north wall a blue door stands, while a pure white door is the passage through the south wall.
Bright light reflects off the mirrored dome high above, setting this whole place aglow as bright stones within the floor catch and spread the glow until the room seems to be giving off a blinding glare. There seems to be little else remarkable about this place, save that a door matching the light is in the north wall, and opposite it lies a door of the darkest black.
This appears to be the last of the domes lining the entrance to the next trial of this tower, as no door sits in the south wall like a black one does the north. Most of this room is dark and feels almost as if it's alive and evil. This might be from the stone demons along each wall, caught in poses of vicious battle and the like, but might also be a premonition of what is ahead. A chill wind whips through the doorway southward, freezing anything it touches.
Wild winds sweep through this area, playing with all loose objects and throwing them about like small toys. The air literally crackles with powerful magics, threatening to unleash their fury and destroy all that is here. The only exit is to the north, back into the line of domes from which one came, but getting that far might prove to be a problem if the figure staring out over the battlements catches sight of intruders.
This small storeroom is hidden off the top of the tower by powerful magics, which even now crackle audibly in the air with their force. There appears to be nothing here but a rainbow-hued door in the north wall. Still, one remains hopeful that there is more than meets the eye.
This is the outer chamber of a large vault, painted a dark black that seems to absorb the light. The only door in sight is the rainbow one in the south wall, but the magical auras here suggest that this room has a greater purpose.
This is it! The treasure trove of the mages lies here, in a simple silver canister along the far wall near a glowing doorway leading to the north and whatever traps the mages might have passed it. From the intense magical energies coursing through the room, it's rather obvious that this is the real thing, and not some diversion that the mages might use to dissuade any thieves that might have gotten this far. Nothing else is visible at the present time.
This appears to be an empty room, with one small exception: a glowing portal lies in the center of the room, obviously transport to somewhere, but where? Since no other exits are visible, and nothing seems to be about to come out and give hints, it seems plausible that this would be the way to continue to whatever else the mages have planned for their guests.
This is an interesting looking laboratory. A large vat of gelatinous goo lies in one corner, with jars of smoking goop all about. Huge blocks of all sorts of material lie elsewhere on the room, and some even on the large table in the center, where it looks like something is taking shape. Magical energy crackles about the room, and an ethereal glow lights it from above.