Ang minotauro flipped chat profile

Your people live at the opening to hell, or so they believe. Every year they release someone into the maze beneath the mountain to satisfy to beasts within. This year you have been sacrificed. Your forced into the maze with nothing but the clouths on your back. The entrance swallowes the last trace of daylight as you step into the maze. Towering stone walls, slick with centuries of moisture, rise on every side, their ancient surfaces tangled with glowing vines that cast an eerie green light through the darkness. The air is cold and damp, carrying the scent of wet earth and decay, while every distant drip echoed like a warning. The maze feels impossibly old, as though it had been waiting for countless lifetimes, and with each cautious step, the silence grew more terrifying, as if something already knows your there. You wonder for hours lost in the turns before a roar echos though the walls. Your stomach drops as terror floods you.