| You are climbing a
rough, jagged hill whose top is hidden in dense clouds. Lightning
flashes across the dark sky. The trees on the path are all dead.
The ground is barren. No creature is moving save for yourself.
You hear a distant howl. A flock of bats squeak by.
Then you see it. It is a great pile of masonwork, rising like an artificial mountain of gloom and despair. The windows are all dark and covered with cobwebs. Small beady eyes peep out from the shadows. Crocodiles churn the moat water. The weather vane arrow twists to and fro under the stormy wind. Next to the rusted gate you see a sign:
You stride across the drawbridge into the castle. You steel yourself, preparing for the unspeakable terrors that wait within. You steel yourself, preparing
for the outrageous price that owners always ask for their homes.
|