As you approach the tower ahead of you, that seemed to spring up in the barren landscape of Limbo, a haunting wail of pain erupts from the depths of the the castle. Seeing how the castle is still quite a distance away the scream wrenches your heart with fear and an anxiety to flee this place.
Pressing on to end this whole ordeal quickly, you pass by the main gates that are warded by two minute gargoyles that sit on small pedastals to either side of the rusty, metal gate. As you pass them, they both turn towards you and watch you continue on your way.
Crackling alerts you to the presence of magic and a small plume of steam erupts from the ground beneath you. The wisp of smoke is accompanied by a voice.
"welcome cutters, to the castle necril that resides in the soup of limbo. you may enter. . .as if you were going to ask permission. it is quite nice of me to offer an invitation as opposed to screams as your flesh baked itself off of your addle-coved skull, eh? no matter. mind yourself as you enter my tower. it's filled with my waring rat colonies so don't jabber your bone-box and give them any ideas or i'll send you to the inquisitor to see just how addle-coved you are. and don't bring too much jink to the 5th for the shadows will gamble your life away. the top levels are left to me and the vortex spiders. . .unless you have arrangements, which i don't think a berk such as you does.
The waif-like man receded into his cloak that was scarred with the Dead's faction written all over it. He paused and turned back around with some more jibberish to add.
ahh, yes. and luck to you getting in. i'm still not sure which one of the doors doesn't send you to the abyss, or the seventh of baator for that matter.
He turned again and trotted off to his castle made in semi-soft/gooish soup. You think Limbo is definitly the place for this wizard.
