In a liminal space along the borderlands of any given area, on auspicious nights when the season changes, the leaves die and the air grows wet and cold... one may receive an invitation to explore and spend the night in the Manor Macabre from its mysterious host.

The offer is simple, simply stay one night and you shall be rewarded--- be it permanent residency amongst the manor or some other manner of great fortune. The Manor itself is full the brim with wonders and treasures from all over, a true treat.

However, none who take the invitation return or rather... all have opted for 'permanent residency'... and yet every year the manor appears once more to lure in more and more daring adventurer's to its predatory maw...

For in the Manor itself, those who venture inside unwittingly choose their on fates from whatever they deem touch-- as it results in a misfortunate end.

---

The Library, full of ancient lore and tomes, offered one final hope, one final respite for those within, yet like other avenues of hope... it was a false hope as the manor consumes those therein.

As dawn approaches the Manor, those few that managed to survive or avoid the manor's terrors get no respite. As the Manor's true nature reveals itself. The walls begin to ooze caustic, thick, almost latex-like slime as the walls, cieling begin to melt as the various terrors that dwell within the Manor Macabre begin to breakdown into oozelike forms as the manor reveals itself.
There is no respite on the manor grounds. There is no escape from the Manor Macabre. By the Witching Hour feast, all who have entered the Manor will have met their fate. Their fates being sealed the moment they accepted their invitation.

The Witching Hour Feast approaches, and soon it shall be time to christen the new residents of the Manor Macabre into its halls...

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