Pso'Xja
A vertical mess, a crafted maze of Zilartian hand 10,000 years ago.
Don't scream. Nobody will hear you, save the goblins and diremites that scrounge the ruin.
Pass out of sight as Red-robed rich tonberries, illuminate their way through the dark, transformed Kuluu, warped.
Milennia of hatred, a silent scream in the form of everyone's worst grudge.
Rancor in the depths, an terrestrial avatar's presence lies beating.
Dank walls, a crypt, holes for the unsuspecting traveler.
Flashing light from makeshift crystal lamps, glimmering the Dire Bat's black eyes.
Stairs up, down, and all around, the paths less traveled.
Scream. Nobody will hear you, save the restless souls of those warped Kuluu.