A melodious stringed instrument beseeched unto the tavern its joyous reverence to the God in which its likeness was created upon. Those who cared to listen deep could hear the chirpings of a nightingale and the running river that flowed around Hyperium. The Satyr, Acteon stood proud and played his Lyre for all to hear.

The players find themselves in Ambrosia Taverna. The Innkeeper and his daughter reside beside the bar. 6 patrons are scattered about, eating, drinking, and gambling. a mysterious patron is seated in the corner. Snakes adorn her head where hair should be and she is dress in a semblance of sorcerer's robes.  The players may proceed as usual.

As his songs progressed, the harmonics became more muted and hushed. The ear no longer able to pick up the gratuitous melody. The sconces flickered and struggled to keep their lively flames alit. A wind of unknown origin gust through the enclosed tavern. 

Every patron seemed to take no heed to abnormal display, except for an odd assortment of few. All lights unwove themselves from existence. The stone floor gave way and melted into fine granules of black sand. A sinking hole in the middle of the room gave way. Round and round the sand sank and undulated. The  mysterious patrons swept up in its current found themselves being eaten by the hungry, gaping maw in the floor. Gnashing and gnawing, the black sand seethed and tore at the bodies of the adventurers. The pit constricted their descent, fostering a claustrophobic trepidation betwixt the four bodies. As they fell and fell the sandy walls echoed a petrifying screech at them. A discordant metal banging bounced off the walls and followed them down their rabbit hole. A layer of screaming could be heard behind the incessant banging. Something begging, bashing, demanding to be set free. 

Then, it stopped suddenly. The falling came to an abrupt end. No harm befound their bodies. Their feet made contact with shattered stone. A dark hallway was dimly lit by cryptic stones oozing red light deep from its porous surface. Further down a single cell lay at the end of the hallway guarded by a warlock and its undead goblin. Meanwhile, the metal door continued its bashing, gnashing, assault on. The screams that lay behind were transmuted into a repetitive, resonant gritty drilling. 

The warlock and goblin take notice of the players and immediately attack, DM roll d60 to determine how long the players have before they're stricken. Roll for initiative

• When approaching the door
• A dark reddish brown thickly coats the door 
• if passed with medicine check of 18 or higher know it’s blood, 6-17 know its not rust but unsure of its origin, 1-5 don’t really know probably rust
• A knocker in the form of a human fist is situated high above the middle of the door
• Warm to the touch and the only clean and new thing about the door and stony hall
• No checks necessary just knock

After the door is knocked a loud painful groan causes the door to shutter and the air to sizzle and crackle. With a loud wretched creak the door opens itself. A vacuum seal like pressure causes all the air to rush into the newly opened room and forces everyone into it. You are presented with a 10x10 room coated in rust from ceiling to floor. In the middle a man hangs precariously on a noose. Across from the door just open lies another door exactly the same.

• Hanged man is a drow elf with half his body covered in burns and scorched clothes. The other half remains perfect and untouched by time and damage
• If his body is checked for objects, roll investigation. 1-14, find a crow feather engraved with K in white ink. 15-20 find a ring wrapped around a note scrawled in Elvish “I had to do it” and the  backside written in infernal, “arson”.
• If ring is investigated, its imbued with magical powers to enhance all fire based magic
• If a character investigates it, they’ll hear a deep groveling voice in her head say, “Their bodies crumble and pass into earth. Their souls turn to cold smoke and fly to the underworld. There they eat nothing and drink nothing and feel no warmth. Everything they reach for slips from their grasp.” A softer female voice responds back, “How do they bear it?” “As best as they can.” A brief vision flashes across the characters mind and they see the underworld and tortuous souls begging to feel again.
• Two Bolt gold coins are placed over his eyes
• If removed the back is inscribed “knock knock”
• When approaching the door
• The reddish brown thinly coats the brown 
• If investigated, roll 16+ to know its blood, 6-15 it’s not of rust origin, 1-5 looks like rust and smells like rust… maybe tastes like rust. 
• Knocker is still there in same position, but something feels off
• If investigated, roll 10+ to discover the rust on the door under the knockers fingernails
• Once again, just knock

After the door is knocked, a languid groan accompanies the door. Slower to open this time, the uneven floor in the other room forced the metal door to scrape over scathing aged metal. The room you find looks exactly the same... right? The only difference you see is that the hanged man is now a young female elf. Her nudity, shocking as it could be, wasn’t the focal point. The grotesque operations performed on her was unnerving and eye catching. Her womanhood was robbed from her and put into jars. The jars were placed below her hanging body as to mock its owner that dangled but a thread over them. Ichor oozing from impaled wounds.

• If jars are examined, her uterus, her partially developed fetus, her heart, and her brain were suspended in viscous liquid to preserve it. 
• Medicine check 1-14 looks like pine resin mixed with a red plant extract for embalming. 15-17, something ancient and sacred fills the jars to keep them suspended. 18+ its blood from the Wurm, known for preserving and bringing things back to life.
• Examining her head you see two silver coins where her eyes should be. 
• Coins are inscribed in elvish, “an eye for an eye”
• If coins are taken she has only one eye left
• If coins are stolen, unseen force screeches, “GREED”. 1D4 of  necrotic damage
• Investigation check 1-14 crow feather engraved with I in white ink. 15+ a gold coin minted from a land unknown
• History check 18+ its a subtype of coin minted by the drow when the gods walked the land but became lost to history and no longer minted. In the middle of the coin is translucent and contains some of the Wurm’s blood. If check is below 15 then a worm like creature is engraved in the circumference and on the inside a teardrop shaped emblem is casted from something dark red, nearly black.  
• The knocker still rests on the door as usual but a hole rests in the middle of the hand.  
• Knocking on the door does not open it. 
• Touching the inside of the hole feels somewhat fleshy and pliant with a lot of give. Can continue to be poked through.

If the opening is pierced, the players’ hand will be swallowed by the growing hole in the knocker. A guttural shrill shriek pierces through the ears and bounces off of the dilapidated metal walls. The floor starts to shake and becomes more violent as the screaming gets louder. The hanged woman's hands profusely are scratching, clawing, and clinging at the rope around her neck. Trying in vain to free herself from the noose. Meanwhile, the gaping hole slowly continues to ingest the players’ arm. Soft, sleek flesh like muscles wrap around the arm and undulates, releasing a viscid fluid that oozes out of the hole and down the door. The crimson fluid traverses and puddles at the ground around the players’ feet. The wailing elf’s screeches turn to pleas of help, “Please… please.. Please. I didn’t mean to do it. It hurts. Please stop. Kill me.killme.killme” Her utterance and pleas for death rambled on and on. Her voice grew quieter and softer, until she could no longer talk. Vocal chords too damaged to continue on. The walls around the players’ arm pulsates once more and something spongy and gooey is placed in the players’ hand. Finally the muscles give way and the player can remove their arm. In their hand lies a singular blue eye  staring at the player.

• The player can either place the eye in the knocker's hole or place it back in the woman's missing eye socket.
• If placed in the knocker the door will open
• If placed in the woman, she reanimates. And the noose comes undone. Crashing with the floor, she drags herself to the jar holding her unborn fetus. She cradles it in her arms and sobs. 
• If asked or talked to her only response, “I didn’t want to do it. She did this to me… I only came to him to bring her back…” She is in a trance like state for the remaining interaction. 

A gust of wind rushes past the player’s and the knocker on the door knocks three times and opens. It takes twice as long for it to open this time. Rusted metal upon rusted metal grated together in a discordant symphony of shrieking and wailing. An unforeseeable entity ushers the player’s into the next room and with one glance back, the elf is back to hanging where she was as if the players never interacted with her.

Rancid decay encapsulated the room. A sickly green fog wafted through the self-contained space. The morose rust has a new layer of noxious green ooze slithering down it. 

Rather than a hung man precariously dangling from a noose, it be but a dead body lazing on the ground.

• If body is examined
• Multiple stab wounds specifically aimed at the stomach and a slit across the throat
• Face looks exactly like the female elf from the last room.
• Stomach distended from pregnancy
• Passive perception of 15+ to see fingers twitch and grasp her stomach tighter.
• Clutched in her hand is raven feather inscribed with “X”

The fog rattles and reverberates around. Perhaps it has a life of its own? 

• Roll constitution check 25+ to pass
• repeat rolls through encounters with increasing dc
• If passed the drug like trance doesn’t affect the player, still has to pass the other checks**

Seeping deep into muscles and bones of each player, the green oozing fog slithers to and fro, up and down, and all around the body. It purrs against the skin, relaxing and lazing about, as if it were a content cat. The fog recedes into the imperfections and muddled rust in the walls and the floor.  The woman in the middle of the floor reanimates and pushes herself off the floor with her hands. Arms violently shaking from the effort to right herself onto her feet, points an accusatory finger into the corner right of the players. Standing there, a man twitches vehemently while grasping a knife with fresh blood. He constantly mutters to himself, “I had to do it, I had to do it, I had to do it.” Over and over. 

If approached, he blankly stares past the player. Does not engage in combat with players. The player can attack him, all hits are deadly. He will collapse to the ground and reanimate, continuing his mantra while staring past the player. Peeking out of the slit across his throat is another raven feather. If pulled from the wound, blood soaks the feather and “I” is inscribed in the middle. Once the feather is pulled from his neck, his eyes snap back to reality and he stares directly at the group. His mouth hinges open and from his throat a grinding grainy voice emerges forth, “That’s NOT my child.” The fog rushes forth from the walls and makes it impossible to see anywhere. The floor caves in consuming everything in its wake.

The player’s find themselves landing on a stony floor. In front of them is the entrance to a cave and behind them is a precipice that overlooks a forest. The clicking of a staff echoes off the caves wall and gets closer to the players. Emerging from the dark recess is an older dwarf male hobbled towards the players, putting most of his weight on his cane. 

His head quirked from side to side, “It’s been too long since we’ve had visitors,” He pounded his cane on the ground to grab everyone’s attention. “I believe, tonight, we should have a feast.” He hobbles forward towards the entrance of the cave, "Where are my manners? My name is Epis and I am the mayor of these quaint people." As the party grows closer to the cave Epis turns towards them, "Now tell me, how did you all get here?"

If a player took the coin of the Wurm Epis will sense its presence. Epis smacks his lips, "The prophecy untold is coming to light. I pray to Erebos you lot keep your heads on the straight and narrow path. Regardless, I will take any excuse to enjoy a feast, especially now."

If the players did not take the coin Epis will accept whatever answer the players throw at him. "It seems the journey may have exhausted you lot. Please come and enjoy the feast. Perhaps with the help of Adas and Pophile we can enjoy our night with vigor."

• Players are led to The Broken Fang to rest and clean up