A Cold Alcove                                          -      -      - 
(-------------------------------------------------)     W <---(M)---> E
                                                        -      -      -

Foul, stagnant air passes through this cold passageway.  Cobwebs dangle
in the corners of the blackened ceiling.  Wooden torches and brass lanterns
line the halls mounted on the rough igneous rock from Hellbent Mountain. 
Dust and dried blood lie on the grey tiles that cover the floor throughout
the prison.  Something isn't quite right in this patch of the hallway it is
as if, it has been long forgotten.