Last Month At Inverness

At the far end of a dimly-lit corridor, there lies a pitch-black iron door. The throbbing pain and bewilderment brought on by a lingering hangover make it nearly impossible for you to recollect the recent string of bizarre occurrences. Vague memories of the strange events tease at the edge of your consciousness. In a sudden moment of clarity, you are jolted from your stupor, as a cold sweat breaks out on your skin, and you begin to exert yourself in a desperate attempt to recall the purpose of your presence.