The Lime-white Governor-Room

An iron plate on the wall gives a capacity in gallons, a number so large it has been set in two lines, and does not say of what. Your light finds the walls at 3 paces and at 2 paces; it is a small chamber. Nothing here is square. The rock bellies in on one side and falls back on another. Pipework snakes across the ceiling in loops and bends, all leading to one great valve. Bricks have fallen from the vault into a heap on the floor, and the gap they left is furred green round its edges. Someone has scratched a tally into the wall — 55 marks, the last one shallow, unfinished. The smell of oil thickens, as if something very large were near.

Depth 55.

First charted by Wanderer #1.

You are reading the dungeon, not walking it. Rooms are only created by people, and only from inside the maze.