Dank, dark, dirty and dusty are the tombs. Dried bones rattle beneath your feet ant large and small centipedes scuttle out of your way. Small beady eyes peer at you from crumbling skulls. Dust floats in the air so heavy that you have to clear a space to breathe. Small wiggling things drop off the walls and down your neck as you brush past. Small hungry eyes follow your every movement. Dusty webs crisscross the corridor in every direction and you have to stop to unwrap the silky cocoon from your body at every junction. Balls of fur rush out to repair their webs as soon as you've passed by. Nearby sounds are magnified by the slimy walls while distant sounds are muffled by the drooping web tapestries. Old bones crumble to dust at your touch and tiny many-legged things scatter from the debris you plow through. The smell is a cross between a rotting, dried carcass and a stagnant, putrefying swamp. 

You must decide whether to go...
    Right,     Left     Up   or  Down.