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- From whence this dungeon, this labyrinth most cherished? What consecrated hopes fashioned its fastness, what base yearnings designed its whole? Rumors hold that the Tetrarch of Failure did desire a bastion within which to brood, and so ordained the creation of this chthonic realm, but none know for sure. Conjecture, after all, is but one step from lies.
Regardless. This is what is known:
Three days ago a cannibal halfling led its goblinoids in through the secret entrance hidden within the ocular cavity of the titanic statue of a living shadow, quickly conquering the Tripartite Hall and its subsidiary limestone chambers, each a perfect sphere. Even now its creatures despoil the limestone halls, and defy the oval inscribed above every portal, tearing up the Adamantium mosaics depicting an umber hulk head.
It thinks itself the master of this collection of tunnels and chambers, but unbeknownst to it the Postulant of Succulent Pets has resided on a secret twilight level to the South for the last five upheavals. Driven into hiding there after consuming far, far too much C. Martin’s Blood of Sandy Burster Bubbly Ale, it has licked its wounds and passed the crumbling hours plotting its revenge, and over time come to think of the entirety of the dungeon as its demesne.
Direct conflict draws nigh. - From whence this dungeon, this nightmare most angelic? What venerable deliriums fashioned its fastness, what base magics designed its whole? Rumors hold that the Spiritguide of Drilling did desire a bastion within which to brood, and so ordained the creation of this chasm, but none know for sure. Conjecture, after all, is but one step from lies.
Regardless. This is what is known:
Seventeen days ago a human female fighter led its leopard-people in through the secret entrance within the fractal web of the Star Ruby St. Philologus the Silent, quickly conquering the Ornithologist's 30 Lies, braving the myriad flights of bone that did assay it even as it struck them down, indifferent to their debauched age. Even now its creatures despoil the slate halls, and bless the eight-pointed star in a shield in a six-pointed star inscribed above every portal, tearing up the Magically Treated Copper mosaics depicting a soaring eagle.
It thinks itself the master of this interconnected dream, but unbeknownst to it the Prince Brahmin of Gore Ghosts has resided on a secret imaginary level to the South for the last decade. Driven into hiding there following the Battle of the seventh linen Necropolis, it has licked its wounds and passed the crumbling hours plotting its revenge, and over time come to think of the entirety of the dungeon as its demesne.
Direct conflict draws nigh. - From whence this dungeon, this hole most despairing? What angelic dreams fashioned its fastness, what vicious forces designed its whole? Rumors hold that an effusive necromancer did force his forsaken mistress to work through her unlife to carve forth this nightmare, but none know for sure. Conjecture, after all, is but one step from lies.
Regardless. This is what is known:
A week ago a human male fighter led its lion-men in through the secret entrance behind the thundering Ernoch Garvyn Falls that cascade down the Western cliff face, quickly conquering the First Descent, driving before him the minotaurss that had called those indifferent declevities their home. Even now its creatures despoil the limestone halls, and tear down the inverted five-pointed star inscribed above every portal, tearing up the Mithril mosaics depicting a soaring eagle.
It thinks itself the master of this subterranean expanse, but unbeknownst to it the Knight-Bachelor of All Desolations has resided on a secret twilight level to the West for the last nine seasons. Driven into hiding there following its inability to conquer the Oriental Emerald Chosen One, it has licked its wounds and passed the crumbling hours plotting its revenge, and over time come to think of the entirety of the dungeon as its demesne.
Direct conflict draws nigh. - From whence this dungeon, this collection of tunnels and chambers most inchoate? What hallowed powers fashioned its fastness, what delving forces designed its whole? Rumors hold that the Refectorian of All Diseases did desire a bastion within which to brood, and so ordained the creation of this thousand chambered heart, but none know for sure. Conjecture, after all, is but one step from lies.
Regardless. This is what is known:
A week ago a sphinx led its cannibal halflings in through the secret entrance beneath the vast gnomen of Malachite that can be found in the Courtyard of Lost Time, quickly conquering the first three chambers of Black Sky, though it is said it lost over half its men when it failed to answer the Mithral mink's riddle. Even now its creatures despoil the granite halls, and violate the oval inscribed above every portal, tearing up the Adamantine mosaics depicting a demonic face.
It thinks itself the master of this cavern, but unbeknownst to it the Overlord of Wrong Birthed has resided on a secret seventh level to the Southeast for the last nine seasons. Driven into hiding there following its inability to conquer the Black Sapphire Beggar, it has licked its wounds and passed the crumbling hours plotting its revenge, and over time come to think of the entirety of the dungeon as its demesne.
Direct conflict draws nigh. - From whence this dungeon, this chthonic realm most inviolate? What godly conjurings fashioned its fastness, what godly courts designed its whole? Rumors hold that a dedicated corps of militant lion-men labored furiously under the lash of the Squire of Worms to create this subterranean expanse, but none know for sure. Conjecture, after all, is but one step from lies.
Regardless. This is what is known:
A week ago a half-orc male assassin led its dark elves in through the secret entrance beneath the vast gnomen of Lapis Lazuli that can be found in the Courtyard of Lost Time, quickly conquering the first three chambers of Hungry Machines, though it is said it lost over half its men when it failed to answer the Magically Treated Platinum coyote's riddle. Even now its creatures despoil the limestone halls, and rend the eight-pointed star in a shield inscribed above every portal, tearing up the Magically Treated Silver mosaics depicting a four-faced querub.
It thinks itself the master of this nightmare , but unbeknownst to it the Confidant of All Maladies has resided on a secret twilight level to the Northeast for the last seventeen months. Driven into hiding there after its shocking defeat at the hands of St. Berencardus the Relentless, it has licked its wounds and passed the crumbling hours plotting its revenge, and over time come to think of the entirety of the dungeon as its demesne.
Direct conflict draws nigh.