Far back in the basements of the Academy, hidden behind rusted old equipment and file-cabinets filled with the most grudgingly boring bureaucracy, there is a door. A sign hung on the chains that bar it tells anyone who dig through the junk that the door is sealed and shall not be breached, by law of the Dean and punishable with expulsion from the Academy. No one is ever told about this door, lest the temptation take a hold of them. Even so everyone know the old story, that there is a forbidden door somewhere down there. Only the older teachers, those of several centuries or older, know why its bolted shut and sealed with powerful rituals. It is not to keep the students out. It's to keep what lies beyond it in.<br/><br/>There was a time when the catacombs were open. They included the ancient arcane libraries, the last resting places of great heroes and scholars and ritual chambers laid over nodes of great power. It was a gathering-place for the most talented students, those who excelled in their fields. The hallowed halls had been patrolled by the Keepers, ancient homunculi which expelled anyone who wasn't of sufficient status and grade. It was a place where the elitists gathered to study and celebrate, great galas often involving exotic summonings and orgies. But that was a century ago. when the Catacombs still belonged to the Academy. Now a different master held court in the dusty bone-covered halls, ruling over a kingdom of shadows and impossible forms. A ruler imprisoned in his own little Empire. And it had been so long since someone visited. So long since someone had opened their minds to its warping effects. So long...<br/><br/><hr/><strong>Who: </strong>Nyarlathotep<br/><strong>For: </strong>Open<br/><strong>Where: </strong>Catacombs<br/><strong>When: </strong>Unspecified time of day<br/><hr/><br/>Deep within the Catacombs he held court, in the old Summoning Hall with skull-covered pillars and rows upon rows of tables and chairs, some still clad with musky old cloth and adorned with long burnt out candle-holders, plates and utensils. He had even gathered bones and made his court... alive. At least it had a strong attendance of the dead. Not that he had particularly cared about what bones belonged to what physiology. So it was a macabre gathering of freakish dead with chattering teeth and balefire burning in their eye sockets. It was all fun and games when there was someone else to enjoy the spectacle. But that had been almost a century ago. It was a long time even for a God of the Outer variety when imprisoned behind a simple door with ritual bindings. But then again, he had eternity to keep him company and in the meantime he had done what he could to make the place more hospitable to his own designs.<br/><br/>Those who had once spent nights down here and still remembered it would not have recognized their old Catacombs. Walls, floors, gravity and pillars had been pulled out of shape, given new twisted impossible dimensions, sights that made your head spin and mind ache as it tried to comprehend the incomprehensible. Darkness ruled down here, only the gloomy lights of the Keepers lanterns occasionally throwing a haunting gloom over the twisted landscape. For stepping inside was like stepping into another world. It had been given a twisted fourth dimension, spanning far more than it possibly could, the darkness reach far up into a strange starlit sky with stars that none on this world had ever seen before. And anywhere you were you could hear the cacophony of the pipers of his court, on the horizon, seemingly just behind the next bend.<br/><br/>The glistening mass of twisted tentacles, horrified drawn out faces and unblinking eyes and gnawing teeth slithered into action from the altar in the Summoning Hall as he felt the presence of living things closing in on the door that lead down to his realm. The possibility that they would find the door and breach its ritual lock sent a shiver through the monstrosity. A century of imprisonment could have come to an end...