The Grimvault. A word often spoken in a hush, as if the very mention would banish the speaker there. It stretches down to the very core of the world itself, almost endless, looping, twisting, descending deeper and deeper. Those who survive and make it out tell fantastical and unbelievable tales of what they've encountered.

Creatures out of nightmares, colonies of cannibals, entire cities, lava as far as the eye can see, sea monsters, oceans, the very dark getting inside your mind and driving you mad, thriving settlements of all manner of sentient races, the abyss, hell itself...the stories go on and on. And the people of Edgemere? They believe every single one.

Most try to forget it exists, except those who thrive off of the chaos, the bloodshed, and the potential profit of it. Thousands of people, from dozens of universes, from hundreds of worlds, are pulled from their lives every day by dark magic to be deposited within the Grimvault. It's sport for most, to watch someone struggle and die is entertainment for those rich enough and bloodthirsty enough. Others pay out of revenge, to kill someone for reasons most personal to them.

Then there are those who delve into the dark to loot and plunder. After all, knights and farmers and nobles alike have died there, and they carry all manner of riches that would bring a pretty penny to ones pocket. If they make it out alive.