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As you approach the vacant gates of this once magnificent estate, the towering trees along the road transition into the hanging willows, branches swaying at odd intervals, as if the plants themselves bristle at your presence. Nearby, a tent and campfire have likewise fallen to ruin. The resting spot for an adventuring party, perhaps, or simple looters lured here by the rumors of the bacchanalian feasts once held on these grounds for the nobility.
Deeper, the faint scent of acrid waters and decaying flesh hit your nose, and a steady din of mosquitos is impossible to ignore. If the stories are true, what happened to the noblemen and ladies that disappeared past the iron gates so long ago, their night of revels never to end? And what fate found the explorers that dared venture deeper into the crimson court...
swamp ruins hive
swamp ruins hive
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