Inside In The Dark:
The heavy oak door groans ominously as you let its weight pull itself shut, leaving you in a candlelit darkness. Narrow shelves are built into the granite walls, on each burn dozens of small beeswax candles, their flames greedily licking at their wicks. The spent wax is starting to run over the edge of the shelves, leaving long eerie fingers reaching vainly for the dusty floor. Shadowed underneath are roughly carved pentagrams covered with a film of sticky cobwebs. There is a smell of decay and death here that causes you to cover your mouth and nose for fear you may retch from its intensity. Every step you take stirs up years of dust and grime. Something suddenly latches onto your leg, and you kick violently to get the unknown thing off! You stumble back to see it was some kind of disgusting, hissing insect almost as large as some birds you’ve seen. Just beyond the candlelight, you catch the oily gleam off hundreds of other insect shells watching you like prey.



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