Eight long legs of strong stone move about Revaliir through the lands. The legs belong to that of a large golem spider named Arania. The size does not rival the city Hoja Mesto but does appear to use the same types of magic to function. On the summit of the large golem is a large manor dressed in dark colors. The wood can be heard creaking as the golem moves but no matter the weather the manor continues to stay standing, even in the depths of the ocean.

The manor itself appears to be ever growing as, when one looks at it, they can tell that someone or something has been building. The paint on the outside of the house looks fresh on some of the wings off the main house but the main house itself looks like centuries have worn it away. When Arania is walking it is clear that it is still growing as the manor appears to be growing rooms randomly. However, it is not a coincidence that when bloody screams are heard a new room forms somewhere in the manor.



The entrance way of Arania appears to be gorgeous for its wear. Back in its heyday, it can be imagined that grand Dukes and Duchesses could skirt across the floors in grand parties. However now, ethereal spider webs and ectoplasm spiders crawl about the walls. Floors appear busted in some areas, but, oddly, never give way when weight is applied.

Near the end of the room, a grand staircase sprawls out. The fine mahogany wood appears to be in better condition than the rest of the room. A large chandelier of wisps illuminates the room in a ghastly dead blue. Mirrors are all about the walls of the grand staircase. Every time your eyes move away from it you catch something in your shadow, near you, behind you, watching you. The cobwebs seem to always be there, even after you’ve torn them down like history remembers them and repeats their existence. 


From here on out the hallways sprawl in different directions as if there are no single directions the builders went. It’s a maze of rooms and traps. Can you find the treasure hidden or will you be consumed?

T'was a long time ago, in a place at the bottom of the sea. A goddess named Ki lurked in darkness, ruling over her domain. She was the patron of the tide and the mistress of sailors worldwide. Yet Ki, like her domain, represented both sides of her mystical realm. Beautiful and terrible, her legacy lives on in the Abyssal Trench.
 
A place meant to be locked away from the eyes of mortals by the current goddess of depths, the Abyssal Trench has now become a room in Arania. Through some horrendous fault of magic, the area is sealed behind a nondescript door, fully open for any poor soul to freely venture within. There is no water that appears from the outside, no sense of warning. There is only the disembodied light of a cadaver angler fish hovering just out of reach, enticing whoever hesitates at the boundary with someone they truly desire.
 
Do not be fooled into believing this room raises the dead, however. Pretty lights mark a trap, for one step inside transports you to a place that was once a torture ground for Ki's enemies. The Abyssal Trench is an underwater ship graveyard so far down in the depths that all light is a hollow reflection of former glory. Only suspended orbs of magical light remain to light the path, still left behind by Ki's magic, and even those are barely enough to see the immediate surroundings.
 
Air is not necessary in the trench, for there is an enchantment that prevents all entrants from suffocating. That wasn't the point of the torture for Ki, because suffocation was far too easy to accomplish with her command over water. Instead, a visitor's greatest threat in the trench is the inhabitants of the area. The largest leviathans in the world lurk in this place, waiting to tear interlopers apart. No one but a deity can hope to fight them, leaving mortals with only three choices: run, die or hide.
 

One way to escape this grizzly fate exists: a doorway at the end of a trail of lights. Reaching that doorway will take you to freedom, but the act is no small feat. Gate travel to the outside is locked off in this place, and fire magic is utterly useless. Teleportation is also dampened, shortening the distance mages can travel. Even forms of light magic are stricken of their effectiveness, making sight difficult in the darkness. The point of the Abyssal Trench was to instill a sense of vulnerability, after all, and, by extension, terror. Some say that the area was even a twisted gift from Ki to the Parvporan Goddess Lucina after the latter descended into madness. No one left alive can say for sure, but one thing is certain: the trench is just as dangerous now as it has ever been.   

The door of the Jessamine Room looks so regal compared to the innards of the mansion. The door is made from what appears to be solid emerald with vivid pink lotuses etched into the door. It looks, unlike the rest of the manor, like a beautiful place. At least the outside of the book does, so to say. The innards of this book are more dark, just as dark as it appears beautiful. The door opens to the sounds of nature, like a summer long forgotten.

However, once the gorgeous door opens everything changes. The doorway is blocked by a large mouth with several razor-sharp teeth. Before you can react the tongue and vines rip out towards you and drags you inside The Jessamine Room. You come to realize the mouth was a gate spell but the slobber on your clothes says you could have died if not for the enchantment.

The room is humid and suddenly it’s not even a room anymore! The room expands and begins to crumble. If you run it will continue to crumble faster as you run for the doorway across the way. Suddenly before you can get to the door or if you’ve even tried at all you free fall. A mass of tentacle plants begins to consume you into its nest. As you fall through, rather are passed through, you see a room below the room.

You fall from the nest and the tentacles loose interest in you as the nest moves giant eyeballs towards you and lights up the room. A man stands there yelling, “Jessamine! Where are you?!” His voice is so broken and his face badly scarred. “Will you help me find my Jessamine?” The man was barely visible clearly ethereal. A man past his time.

The room looks more like a shack but when you exit the door in hopes that the room is done, the wilderness enchantment spreads far and wide. It is the dead of night and the trees move, the shrubs move, and well everything moves. Their eyes land on you. “Find my Jessamine and I will tell you the way out.” The man goes back to crying in his corner as if he is unable to move from the room.

The room has crying outside as well, a woman, but she is nowhere to be found. The plants come after you as if you are the prey and they are the hunter. Even the tiniest dandelion chases after you in the deep dark night. There are a woman’s objects all about the enchanted forest. A dress, a handkerchief, anything you could imagine, but where is his Jessamine?


The woman’s cries are shaking to the core like she is in pain but the sound is coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. Evading the plants you can find a book, if you passed this area before the book just seems to appear after hours of searching. It tells a tale of a woman who became a monster. She killed her husband and consumed her soul. Her soul transformed into something else. The manor had called her soul and her dreams transformed into something monstrous. You realize in that moment that the room itself is Jessamine. A woman who became the monster. The man who grew as one with his woman, except he doesn’t know it.

A decrepit, filthy flight of stairs descend into an area that was once the home of some of the fearsome hounds known in Revaliir history. The space within the dank room is quite large, cold and dirty with walls lined with rusted cages that barely hold themselves together. Some still carry the some of the canine skeletons as they lean against the bars and a few even look as though they are still trying to bite their way out. Some of the skulls even have holes at the top of them, evidence that they were killed from anything other than natural. Bags were left around and about, and when peeked inside, the contents are black and hard- remnants of what was to be their food. Large crates are also found and the contents vary; some contain nothing but air while others have whips, cat o' nine tails, rods and other items used to ‘correct’ these poor animals’ behavior and condition them into killers before they departure from the realm of the living. 

The room is covered with cobwebs and aged blood stains, and even some fresher looking coats of it, as if taken recently. Every now and then you may hear what sounds like a dog’s howl, but there’s something wrong with it-one can hear the sorrow and rage in its calling. Others may join along from time to time, and yet nothing will be in sight to catch. The pitter pattering sounds like footsteps may also be heard and like the howls, eyesight alone will catch nothing. Eventually, one will every now and then catch something from the corner of their eye, something akin to shadows darting past them. The occurrences grow more frequent as time goes on and the room starts to feel colder and more unwelcoming. The air around chills and freezes the trespassers as if to tell them to leave. The torment only worsen as guests will feel like eyes are watching them from afar, looking upon them with curiosity and immediately turning to burning hatred. Hatred that has turned once friendly eyes into that of a glowing crimson color. 

Large, ghastly hounds of black haunt this room, laying and waiting to devour the fresh meat that comes into their territory. Their mangled and grotesque wounds upon their flesh linger, making them forever sickly looking. Should death be avoided by their powerful snapping jaws, then another will come to finish what they started. An unnamed man of towering height and size also remains trapped, reeking of death and filth. His clothing tattered and grimy and his face is masked away by the gruesome hood made from his cruel face skinning of one of the hounds and donning it upon himself. Only the sight of his pale eyes would show that there had once been humanity behind the monster.  He had been the one instructed to break the dogs and yet he had been but the first of their victims. Wrapped around either wrists are old chains with a hook at each end, hungering for flesh and blood to taste once again.

The first thing you’ll notice upon entering this room is the lack of floor.  A sudden drop into a black abyss awaits you if you don’t keep careful footing on the intricate weave of the giant spider’s web that acts as the ground.  While it is your only support, even sticky to the touch, don’t become comfortable with your footing.  A constant clicking can be heard all around you: the hungry pincers and fangs of giant spiders of all kinds that are waiting to add you to their menu.
 
Take care not to get too turned around, and pay close attention to the vibrations against the thick streams of webbing that you walk across as it’s possible they could be your only clue as to which direction your would-be attacker is coming from.  All around the room are hanging spider’s webs, cob webs, the former of which still holding the bones of past victims that weren’t so lucky to escape.
 
Along with the shake of webs to help you, your only other hope against the spiders are the wisps that seem to follow you just out of the corner of your eye.  They are the spirits of the victims that met their deadly fate at the other end of a spider’s fang.  If you’re willing to listen, they very well might be able to help you make safe passage to the exit, but be warned: spirits can be known to harbor negative emotions just as easily as helpful ones, and there are plenty that would love to trap you here with them.
 
As bleak as this area may seem, a skillful hand with a blade and a well pointed blast of magick can take down your eight legged foes.  Just remember not to get distracted with fighting: there are many more of them than there are of you.  At the center of the room, hanging peacefully above the massive web lies the mother, more grand in size and terrifying than any other beast you’ll come across in here.  Her abdomen is swollen with the eggs of her young, and while she is quietly resting in her slumber, one wrong move, blast, or shake could wake her.  
 
You can try to escape without disturbing her, but any that are in search of glory should aim to strike for the sickly purple double diamond at her belly.  Know that if you strike down the mother with sure fatality that you’ll also have her eggs to deal with.
 


The choice is up to you brave wanderer.

Upon first entrance to the room, the overwhelming stench of rotten flesh permeates one’s nostrils.  The light in the room is dim, and nothing in the shadows gives way to what is emitting the odor.  If one tries to cast any sort of arcane, divine, or unholy magic - it will fail.  It is clear that this hallway rests in a dead zone.  

The room seems more a long and narrow hallway than a room, stretching on so far that one can scarcely see the end.  After the first few steps down the hallway, one can begin to make out objects on the ground.  Upon closer inspection, it is revealed that these are not objects, but rather body parts - an arm here, a leg there, a foot, a finger - occasionally line the floor.  Intermingled with the body parts are a few random objects: candlesticks, metal rods, hammers, the like.

The further one ventures into the room, the more disturbing the images begin to be.  Blood streaks the walls, and the limbs scattered about the floor become higher in number.  A soft, muffled moaning sound can be heard, growing louder the further one ventures down the hallway.  

After what seems like walking down the hallway for an eternity, a door can be seen.  It is wooden, and several boards have been nailed across it.  The moaning grows inconceivably loud, and it is clear that whatever is behind those doors wants to break through them.  The wood bulges as torchlight inexplicably comes to life, illuminating the ghastly sight.  Someone - or something - had painted a word across the door, in what could quite possibly be dark red blood.  “CONTAINED.”  The word itself seems highly ironic.  The doors continue to bulge, and rotting, slender fingers wind their way through the gap, reaching out in hunger for the living flesh they can smell on the other side.  The moans grow louder, their putrid breath defiling the air.  

The boards squeak and groan with the pressure that the undead push against the door.  It is clear that they will not hold for long.  If one chooses to run away, to the way that they had entered the hallway, one will find that the same door is located on either side.  


The only way to get out is to fight your way through the undead masses… but what will you fight them off with?