House of Crom

The House of Crom

House of Crom is a massive new location, with a lot of great new content for maximum level players to enjoy. Hidden for centuries beneath the scarred mountains of the Cimmerian north, this epic location brings with it many new dynamic encounters, new loot, and a new social dungeon for multiple groups to enjoy!

While you might be deceived into thinking that this is 'just another dungeon', this location will surprise those who dare to venture into its halls with its massive scope and epic, if weathered, grandeur. The halls of the House of Crom have clearly seen better days, and many a secret has been buried amid their ruins, now players may embark on a series of adventures to uncover those mysteries and unlock those secrets.

Exploring the massive halls

Inside the two House of Crom dungeons, players will revisit what remains of the temple created by the Atlanteans, and discover for themselves what happened thousands of years ago. House of Crom is actually made up of two vast dungeons. One social dungeon that supports multiple groups at the same time, and one six man dungeon. These areas are the largest indoor dungeons we have created to date, and there is a lot of great gameplay and encounter crammed into the ancient halls.

The Threshold of Divinity

This is a social dungeon for up to four six-player groups for max level characters with nine separate encounters. Sent to aid the Cimmerians in driving out the Vanir desecrators, they will fight enemies both old and new, solve ancient mysteries, and learn the truth behind the House of Crom, and what happened there. And they might find that some puzzles are better left unsolved.

Having this operate as a social dungeon there will also be some challenges that require co-ordination across groups, these won't be essential to your experience, but they will offer a very different gameplay experience and some of the best moments this dungeon offers...if you can figure out the mysteries involved!

Having a multiple group settings also introduces a lot of cool new mechanics that we can play with, and will involve players approaching these challenges differently than they would a private instance. It should offer a very different experience to the other private instances that have been introduced over the last year.

The Vile Nativity

This is a six-player group dungeon for maximum level players. There are seven encounters in all; two of them optional. From the long-forgotten library where the Atlantean scholars once studied, to the treasury room where the wealth of Atlantis, was locked away, we are offering players a dungeon rich in lore and storytelling. Those who seek it could perhaps even learn snippets of the Atlantean language for themselves, unlocking even more clues into the history of the fall of Atlantis. Expect to experience everything from dodging explosions to working with unexpected allies; gargantuan foes to cryptic Atlantean riddles. It's really a cool game-play experience that matches the location perfectly.

There is are some secrets locked away in the House of Crom that will require some thought and exploration to unlock, but doing so will lead to the greatest rewards the dungeon has to offer.

The location is suitably epic, the game-play is intriguing and tells lot of interesting stories. The development team are really looking forward to seeing how players approach the challenges within. We can't wait for players to get to experience what has been done there.

Loot and reward

There are a host of new items available inside the House of Crom, from multiple full sets of dungeon level Atlantean armor sets, new medallions and rings, through new epic cloaks, all the way up to a brand new set of epic weapons that can be attained by unlocking the most closely guarded secrets, that the dungeon has protected for millennia.

Visually the loot takes it's cue's from the ancient Atlantean culture, with its geometric shapes, circles and harsh angles.

Entering House of Crom

You find the entrance to House of Crom in the 'Field of the Dead' playfield.

Backstory

-- by Joshua Alan Doetsch / Scrivnomancer

A devil from the Outer Dark,’ he grunted. ‘Oh, they’re nothing uncommon. They lurk as thick as fleas outside the belt of light which surrounds this world. I’ve heard the wise men of Zamora talk of them. Some find their way to Earth, but when the do they have to take on some earthly form and flesh of some sort.

—Robert E. Howard, “The Vale of Lost Women”

The thing cannot be described – there is no language for such abysms of shrieking and immemorial lunacy, such eldritch contradictions of all matter, force, and cosmic order.

—H.P. Lovecraft, “The Call of Cthulhu”

It was a time of hardship for the Atlanteans—suffering greater than anything they knew before or would know after. The seas rose and swallowed Atlantis, and the seagulls feasted for months on the rot and stink of bloated souls. The few survivors huddled in the colony on the mainland, upon a mountain that still rose above the deluge. But this sanctuary harbored its own perils. The Picts attacked in ceaseless onslaught. Slipping into barbarism, the remaining Atlanteans realized they risked loosing not only their lives, but their identities, culture, and memory.

The Queen formed a desperate plan. Though their gods seemed to have abandoned them, the Queen contrived to construct a great temple to Valka, chief among the gods and creator of humankind. They would build it on the mountain, touching the sky, and the most learned priests would conduct ancient rituals while the people pray and plead. How could Valka not answer his children? The people believed in the Queen’s plan, for she was the most beloved, most pure—to look upon her or hear her voice was to banish all doubt. So the Queen, the priests, and a contingent of artisans left the colony behind.

They toiled for years. Architects and stone-cutters built the temple, refined it, filled it with statues and wonders. Goldsmiths made endless idols to please Valka. The scholars studied and the priests performed rituals. And still, their god would not answer their cries. Why could they not please him? The Queen calmed her people, soothed their lamentations with her words, saying that at the next ritual, she would clime the ziggurat and call upon the divine directly. The people were pleased, for how could anyone, even the gods, ignore someone so pure, so good, so beautiful as the Queen? Her continence eased all pain. Her words banished all doubt.

But the Queen carried a secret. Though she could protect the people from their doubts, there was no one to save her from her own. The sinking of Atlantis, the loss of her civilization, the suffering of her people had eroded her hope. She could not recall how many failed rituals it took, but at some point she realized Valka would not answer. It was all for nothing—leaving the rest of her people to die at the hands of the Picts, the years of hard toil to build the temple—all for nothing. They would all die and there would be no one to remember them. But how could she tell her people, who so loved and trusted her? So she told them pretty lies and kept them working, and the secret sat in her guts, gathered bile, turned to acid and spite, and ate away her sanity. That is when the Queen began praying to the whisper in the dark, the voice of something…Other—something aroused by the endless chanting of the priests who, in their desperation, used older and older rituals from before the time of any of the Thurian civilizations (perhaps before mankind).

The night she climbed the ziggurat alone, the Queen contacted this being, one of the Outer Gods from beyond the Gulfs of Space and Wells of Night. She made a deal with the creature and felt the icy caress of tentacles reaching from across time and space as the primordial being impregnated her. She came down the steps; hair turned white, and told her people that she had been blessed by Valka with divine conception. She said that there was more work to be done, changes to make to the rituals, and that Valka would come to them to claim his child, and the Atlanteans would be saved. The people believed. They did not doubt their queen. It is easier to believe the lie that one so desperately wants to be true. And for nine months, they toiled on.

She gave birth, in secret, in the Deep Cave. During the grotesque nativity, the midwife died of fright from the cries of the thing wrapped in swaddling. The Queen commanded a trusted adviser to seal her child in the Deep Cave, with five handmaidens to “nurse” the babe. When this was accomplished, she sealed the adviser, the only one to know the truth, in the treasury, with the key to the Deep Cave, to be guarded by magical stone sentinels who would let none pass but her. And that night, she climbed the ziggurat, holding a false bundle of swaddling, and the people cheered for they would finally see the face of their god. The hardships would at last be worthwhile. They conducted the new ritual, and the Outer God came into the House of Valka. The people had just enough time to go mad before each and every one of them died. There was hardly even time to scream.

Millennia pass. The remnants of the Atlanteans devolve into ape-men and evolve into Cimmerians. They do not remember their Atlantean ancestry, but they know the temple is a place of divine beings, and call it the House of Crom, named after their chief god — though none go there. And somehow their culture remembers the notion that it is dire folly to pray directly to one’s chief god. Perhaps, in the distant past, a survivor of the Atlantean colonies stumbled upon the House of Crom and witnessed what lay within. Perhaps the lesson was so horrific it survived in their communal memory, scarred in bas-relief on the subconscious, locked away in the backwater of their animal brains surviving the eroding millennia of evolution.

The House of Crom still stands. The ghosts of its builders still work—they are outside of time, do not even realize they are dead, just continue to toil. The Queen (the mother) is a sleeping beauty; as part of her ancient pact, she is preserved in endless slumber, escaping the knowledge of her horrible deeds in dreams. Her child (the son) still jabbers and wails in the Deep Cave with the dust and bones of the long dead handmaidens, and the key still sits in the treasury. The Outer God (the father) waits in the spaces between, for it is the Lurker at the Threshold. It does not devour the souls of the Atlanteans, but milks them of the energy they create with their perpetual toil and angst, feeds this nourishment to its son. Slumber preserves the Queen, the Queen anchors the souls of her people, and the people feed the child. The life cycle of such beings can take aeons, and the Little Prince is only in its pupa phase. When it is time, the Outer God will release its progeny upon the world. The House of Crom is an elaborate nursery for a tentacled messiah.

Enter the players…

source: https://joshuadoetsch.com/tag/the-house-of-crom/