Up in the hills, about a days brisk hike from the village Thriceborough, lies Stone Octopus Garden. One entrance to the dungeon is hidden among the roots of a huge elm tree. Down in the chasm, a river flows by so slowly that it could be called a lake. Spanning the chasm is a an old, wooden bridge, the only way to get across to the island where the keep sits, without getting wet.

The reason for the keep’s name is a mystery, but when the local bard is well into his third pint he might take to singing a sad, strange tune about Continue reading →