Eledryll

Countless hours, unending work, the hushed sound of thousands of footsteps amidst the wooden halls. You can barely imagine the true value that holds the Corridor of Many Records.

The ravine fell silent as you passed through the remnants of decrepit and long forgotten fortifications. Corrugated shields and plate armor litter the ground, their mission of protecting whoever carried them evidently failed.

You huddle together around the dancing flame wavering in the dark. As you try to cheer yourself up, you cannot but hear hostile murmurs behind the creeping fog, getting louder and louder still.

The frigid snow eats at your skin, gnawing and lashing at your face. You can barely press on the road by this winter. Alas you must keep on. Each hour you lose is an hour your enemies gain on you.

As you make your way through the cavernous gullet, you can hear acid dripping from the exposed stone above your head. Everything here can be lethal danger, from the caustic pools to the bottomless pits.

The air is stiffling, charged with putrid fumes and the musty scent of sewage water. Dead animals and cast away litter flow alongside the narrow edge, washing away with everything this city has forgotten.

For centuries, it remained shut in the darkness of our mind, forgotten on purpose by our history and scholars. This great calcified ebony door leads to nowhere. Trust me.

Amidst the deeper part of the woods, pillars of stone and mossy walls timidly emerge through the foliage, cold remnants of a lost elven civilization. The elven seers worship the moon as their benevolent goddess without fear of the dark.

For several months now, dusk never set on this farm without sending shivers down the spine of the locals. The crops rustle in weird, rythmic patterns. The trees suddenly creak and moan all in unison. Malformed silhouettes shamble around in the fields

A boss room with an arcane and gloomy twist. Deep in the bowels of a forgotten tomb, a chained coffin holds a supposed ancient artifact. Beware of the hand that holds it : it was confined here by chain and magic for a good reason!

Nearby villagers told you this cavern was home to a bunch of devious creatures. Creatures? Critters? You might have misheard them. The horrid stench coming from that damp hole in the cliffside hints at something nefarious going on in these tunnels.

Puffs of morbid spores linger through the foetid air, propelled into the atmosphere at each step you take on the dampened ground. The sickly trees cower and moan under their heavy coasting of fungal infestation.

The Hunter was a peaceful loner despite his monstrous proportions. He lived recluse in the dark woods with his daughter most young until someday she was swallowed by the somber paths.

A deafening silence has fallen on the pine trees. No bird sings, no bee buzzes, no doe softly runs away amidst the low branches. Yet, you can feel a discomforting presence all around you. As if something was there. Everywhere.

You tracked down the undead plague to a series of caves at the mountains' base. There, you discovered a web of secret tunnels leading to a laboratory.

When a local poacher discovered fragments of an unknown crystal with magical properties near the foot of the Dragon's reach mountains, the rumour of a hidden treasure spread quickly to the nearby towns and villages.