Hall of Infinite Doors
As you ascend the stairs and advance through the shadows you hear the chanting slowly get louder and more dissonant. Strange new words are added to the traditional Latin and the polyphonics of the motet take on an eerie atonal quality.
As you ascend the threshold and cross the final landing you narrowly dart into a cuppola, avoiding the attentions of a hooded and robed monk. Breathing easier as he passes, you note that his cross is inverted and that he has a dagger on his belt.
Surely that isn't normal attire for a monk! Something strange is going on here! You slowly creep out of the cuppola and make your way down the hall, sneaking quietly passed the monks cells and towards the music room. Inside the chant has grown even wilder.
Your hands begin to shake and you grip the doorknob fiercely. Though your brain shouts "Flee, flee stupid!" you can't! You throw open the door and the wind begins to rush past you, pulling you inside.
The chanting is fiercesome and wild and no longer resembles the motet it once was. It is strange and eldritch and terrible, like the cackling of a thousand demons of hell. You step into the room, the chanting monks growing more ominous with everystep.
The stained glass windows seem to darken for a moment, and then everything grows quiet. The room seems to be falling away, growing ever more distant. Rushing towards you, the size of a mountain, is an undulating sea of chaos, a monstrous nuclear chaos. It is Azathoth, the ultimate doom, and he has claimed you.
As you ascend the threshold and cross the final landing you narrowly dart into a cuppola, avoiding the attentions of a hooded and robed monk. Breathing easier as he passes, you note that his cross is inverted and that he has a dagger on his belt.
Surely that isn't normal attire for a monk! Something strange is going on here! You slowly creep out of the cuppola and make your way down the hall, sneaking quietly passed the monks cells and towards the music room. Inside the chant has grown even wilder.
Your hands begin to shake and you grip the doorknob fiercely. Though your brain shouts "Flee, flee stupid!" you can't! You throw open the door and the wind begins to rush past you, pulling you inside.
The chanting is fiercesome and wild and no longer resembles the motet it once was. It is strange and eldritch and terrible, like the cackling of a thousand demons of hell. You step into the room, the chanting monks growing more ominous with everystep.
The stained glass windows seem to darken for a moment, and then everything grows quiet. The room seems to be falling away, growing ever more distant. Rushing towards you, the size of a mountain, is an undulating sea of chaos, a monstrous nuclear chaos. It is Azathoth, the ultimate doom, and he has claimed you.
