Sheltering from the rain, you lean over to the grate and whisper the password. Nothing but an ominous silence greets you in reply. Sighing loudly, you lean further forwards and say the password more loudly.
‘Well, well.‘ The croaking voice says. ‘I see that you have a taste for the finer things in life. Come in, come in.‘
You hear a quiet click! Then, with a faint groan, the door creaks open an inch. Grabbing the handle, you fling it open – eager to meet your fellow acolytes, priests and priestesses. Or at least to see what the guy with the croaking voice actually looks like.
But, there’s nothing there. Literally nothing. Just darkness.
‘Very funny.’ You mutter. Obviously, they’ve played this prank on every new acolyte since the dawn of time. Or since 1965 at least – the Ancient Order’s history is surprisingly vague before that point, almost as if it didn’t actually exist before then. Rolling your eyes, you step into the darkness.
The funny thing about hidden trapdoors and bottomless pits is that most people can usually spot them from a mile away. Seriously, they’re like really obvious. Still, you’ll have a few decades to ponder your mistake as you fall through the endless darkness beyond the door. Or, if pondering isn’t your thing, you can always just….