This begins a new series at Many-Sided Dice about traps and making interesting ones. We’ll dial in on a running format in the coming weeks.
The Atrium—at least, that’s what Kassie thought of it as—was broad and tall and long and rich with foliage. Down here, in the murk and mire of the undercaverns of the city, it was like finding a rose amongst the ashes of a campfire—out of place, wonderous. The others felt comforted by it, the ground was a dark and rich soil, the sounds they made were swallowed by the green; it was a nice change from the miles of hard stone tunnels they’d come through.
But, something wasn’t right. Kassie couldn’t put her finger on it. There was a light misting rain trickling down and tripping from leaves and palms, a musty and moist smell from the fallen plants and trees, even the hint of a breeze here… all of it seemed right, but something made the young rogue unsettled.
It wasn’t until Kavor Kain raised his waterskin to his lips, having caught some run off from a garnled oak’s leaves in it, and the disgusted look on his face that she put it together. She remembered screaming. She remembered hell itself coming for them.