It appears this ruined, long abandoned mansion was once a stage for some battle or another. What group of would be heroes met their end here? For what cause or purpose? Such things time has already forgotten. It would only take a few more years for meadow of flowers to bury the scene and it's secrets for the rest of eternity.
Void consuming the entire continent of Malas has recently crept in, mixing it's new destruction with old.
But woe, what nefarious purpose provides it's malign justification for opening an old grave?! Surely a question only some other post next month or so can answer!
Update,
It has been a year since I first visited the time-worn mansion. I made promises to Britannian academy and to mine self most of all, to unravel the secrets such a grizzly scene must hold. Even as I write this, I still recall my first impression; it was as if the doomed world of Malas itself was trying to swallow and forget the story this place had to tell. Then and there, I chose to ensure it would not be so. It is for a historian to ensure lost doesn't become forgotten.
Armed with fading courage and a sturdy rope, I returned to the scene with every intention to negotiate depths of the ominous and deep open grave. I had been away only for a year. But even within such a relatively short time, decay of the place was had advanced enough for naked eye to see.
During my previous visit, single building still remained relatively intact. Now it too, must join in ever growing list of things past-tense in this world; Roof had collapsed, giving in to void consuming the entire continent.
Putting rope I had brought to good use, I began descending to the depths that had been waiting me all along. Deeper I went, further the walls of the initially narrow grave around me withdrew.
Sometimes, horror dawns on such a gradual phase. My mind did it's utmost to protect me from realizing the unnatural; I was not ascending to a mere grave. I was not even climbing anymore but rather, sinking to some different place. Towards some different truth. Even then, sensation of something malicious grew so rich my sanity surely began to leak out as I sank. This is where my memory mercifully betrays the story and it's teller alike. I was found half starved and raving in outskirts of Umbra weeks after departing to my original journey.
Following instructions of the head doctor of Sanitarium I now habit, I've done my utmost to remember what became after the departure of my memory. He believes "remembering" what I have surely only dreamed might aid in my treatment.
As I wake up in the dark of my bed I drown in fear, cold sweat and nightmares. During those passing moments I catch glimpses of an escaping memory. Again, I see the lit candles. I see the dining table set before me. And I know it was not a dream.
Void consuming the entire continent of Malas has recently crept in, mixing it's new destruction with old.
But woe, what nefarious purpose provides it's malign justification for opening an old grave?! Surely a question only some other post next month or so can answer!
Update,
It has been a year since I first visited the time-worn mansion. I made promises to Britannian academy and to mine self most of all, to unravel the secrets such a grizzly scene must hold. Even as I write this, I still recall my first impression; it was as if the doomed world of Malas itself was trying to swallow and forget the story this place had to tell. Then and there, I chose to ensure it would not be so. It is for a historian to ensure lost doesn't become forgotten.
Armed with fading courage and a sturdy rope, I returned to the scene with every intention to negotiate depths of the ominous and deep open grave. I had been away only for a year. But even within such a relatively short time, decay of the place was had advanced enough for naked eye to see.
During my previous visit, single building still remained relatively intact. Now it too, must join in ever growing list of things past-tense in this world; Roof had collapsed, giving in to void consuming the entire continent.
Putting rope I had brought to good use, I began descending to the depths that had been waiting me all along. Deeper I went, further the walls of the initially narrow grave around me withdrew.
Sometimes, horror dawns on such a gradual phase. My mind did it's utmost to protect me from realizing the unnatural; I was not ascending to a mere grave. I was not even climbing anymore but rather, sinking to some different place. Towards some different truth. Even then, sensation of something malicious grew so rich my sanity surely began to leak out as I sank. This is where my memory mercifully betrays the story and it's teller alike. I was found half starved and raving in outskirts of Umbra weeks after departing to my original journey.
Following instructions of the head doctor of Sanitarium I now habit, I've done my utmost to remember what became after the departure of my memory. He believes "remembering" what I have surely only dreamed might aid in my treatment.
As I wake up in the dark of my bed I drown in fear, cold sweat and nightmares. During those passing moments I catch glimpses of an escaping memory. Again, I see the lit candles. I see the dining table set before me. And I know it was not a dream.
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Not sure I want to visit it though... 
