you stand inside the pitch black house, dripping wet.
a hoarse whipser speaks inside of your head.
"you do not belong here. i am rotted but alive. my floors and walls rattle with the storm, my windows quake with the violence of the thunder, but i still stand... and you are not welcome."
"if you hope to leave this place again, you will have to play my game..."
"seek out my sigil, hear my voice, answer my riddles. or else stay forever within my walls and rot as i do."