Hall of Infinite Doors
You stand in the corridor for a moment and study the simple door. A red shape of a sword is roughly painted on the wooden surface, and a long handle, which appears to be made of brass, is bolted firmly upon it. You reach out for the door handle, but before you are able to touch it you are startled by a shape that begins to form in the wood. The sword symbol fades, and you back up against the wall of the endless corridor as the wooden planks of the door twist to form a face. The face stares at you for a moment, then speaks.
"Young fool who dares to travel through all time and all space: have thee the courage and the strength to face the terrors behind this portal?"
You consider for a moment, "What is behind this door?"
"A world in the most terrible age." The wooden face rasps bitterly, "War spreads and devours all life as a plague."
"And who are you?" you ask.
"I am the gatekeeper, such as all doors have, in some form or another." the face`s voice croaks and groans as it strains to make words with its wooden tounge and lips. "My role is but a minor one."
You scratch your head and sigh, "So, gatekeeper, what do you think I should do? Should I enter?"
"Once you enter it is nearly impossible to return." The wooden planks groan as the face furrows into a deep frown, "But certain people have the power to do great things. When you enter this door, you will either join the world or save it."
The face pauses for a moment before letting out his last words, "But this land is in dire need of a true hero." The face lets out a sigh, like the groan of a creaking tree in the wind, and disappears back into the wooden door.
The blood-red sword reapears on the surface.
"Young fool who dares to travel through all time and all space: have thee the courage and the strength to face the terrors behind this portal?"
You consider for a moment, "What is behind this door?"
"A world in the most terrible age." The wooden face rasps bitterly, "War spreads and devours all life as a plague."
"And who are you?" you ask.
"I am the gatekeeper, such as all doors have, in some form or another." the face`s voice croaks and groans as it strains to make words with its wooden tounge and lips. "My role is but a minor one."
You scratch your head and sigh, "So, gatekeeper, what do you think I should do? Should I enter?"
"Once you enter it is nearly impossible to return." The wooden planks groan as the face furrows into a deep frown, "But certain people have the power to do great things. When you enter this door, you will either join the world or save it."
The face pauses for a moment before letting out his last words, "But this land is in dire need of a true hero." The face lets out a sigh, like the groan of a creaking tree in the wind, and disappears back into the wooden door.
The blood-red sword reapears on the surface.