The farmers around Granite Hill speak in hushed tones of the Grey Maw Cave; quietly, with a glance over the shoulder, as if the cave itself might be listening. They say you can hear water rushing far below even on the stillest days, a thin, splashing and burbling noise like a phlegmatic creature breathing in its sleep.

Old Mara Tellen swears the cave was once a limestone wellspring that collapsed inward, leaving a sinkhole that “never stopped falling.” Her grandfather claimed he dropped a stone down the narrow throat at the bottom and never heard it land.

But Jory Pike tells a different story. He insists the water you hear isn’t underground at all. He claims it’s the echo of the Elvenflow, a river that once flowed over Granite Hill, long before the valley was settled. According to him, the cave remembers the river, and the sound is the memory leaking through.

Then there’s Bram Hald, who says the cave is deeper than any spelunker can say because it “doesn’t stay the same shape.” He claims the low, tight passage at the bottom wasn’t there when he was a boy, and that the cave “grows teeth” when it wants to keep people out.

Most folks don’t go near it. The entrance is harmless enough, but everyone knows the real danger lies where the ceiling drops low and the stone presses close. Down there, the Grey Maw narrows, and whatever waits in the dark prefers it that way.

Grey Maw Cave is indeed a little odd once you get down past that first bend beyond the sinkhole (where the cave ceiling drops to only 2 and a half feet above the floor). It opens up into a long cave with a small waterfall and stream flowing southwards, but the cave has a series of six perfectly straight round columns that reach from cave floor to ceiling. These are clearly not natural just by looking at the shape, but also don’t appear to be worked stone or masonry. It feels like someone or something created or moulded these columns magically but why remains a mystery.

Deeper into the cave is a small area made of worked stone covered in masonry. This area looks like it was once a shrine or temple to a goblin deity, although most would be surprised at the quality of the masonry. Except for the subject of worship, this looks too organized and too well built for a goblin shrine.

But naked humanoid footprints track dry mud through the temple, and seem to go down deeper into the caves…

Every month I try to release one map painted in watercolours like this one, and one in the classic “old school blue” format. Starting next month (March), these will be available exclusively to patrons on Patreon and will no longer be posted to the blog.

The 1200 dpi versions of the map were drawn at a scale of 300 pixels per square and are 9,000 x 7,200 pixels (30 x 24 squares). To use this with a VTT you would need to resize the squares to either 70 pixels (for 5′ squares) or 140 pixels (for the recommended 10′ squares that fit the furnishings shown) – so resizing it to either 2,100 x 1,680 or 4,200 x 3,360, respectively.

The maps on Dyson’s Dodecahedron are released for free personal use thanks to the support of awesome patrons like you over on Patreon. Every month over 600 patrons come together to make these releases possible. You can help too in order to keep the flow of maps coming and to improve their quality – and even get a map of your own!