There is insanity, and then there are minds that are so severely distorted that they cease being humans.
Instead they end up a feral, living, unwanted thing.
These people must be “stored” somewhere, and that’s where the Crotus Prenn Asylum plays a crucial role.
Established in 1857, Crotus Prenn was originally a hospital, but as the need of storage grew, it was turned into an insane asylum.
Crotus Prenn is a place riddled with tall tales that aren’t even close to the reality that takes place within its walls.
It was never the biggest asylum, but the one that held the most violent and warped minds the country had ever met.
But it was not the residents that etched the name Crotus Prenn into the history books.
Instead it was the mass suicide where over fifty patients were found dead in their beds.
The building was abandoned shortly after that.
Investigators had no answers, and the town’s folk became more and more worried as rumors talked about a woman still living inside the asylum.
Finally, one night, smoke rose from the woods as Crotus Prenn had been set ablaze.
The bystanders did nothing. They just let it burn.
Today I found something. A fallen structure that transports the mind to sanitariums and institutions.
But it brings me no ease, but rather I feel entrapped.
Beds and cabinets are scattered about whatever this place might be.
Even though it is filled with hiding places, I’ll avoid it
The familiar shell of the Asylum loomed over me, but I found a new corner of these tragic grounds: a chapel.
Once a place of refuge and solace, it too was touched by the horrors that occurred here and now lies ruined and decayed.
I walked its tattered aisle and ran my hand over moss-covered pews.
Echoes of the past filled my mind: of a Father, a good man who helped the residents here, and who met his end by the will of a deranged mind.
I saw a shattered confessional and thought of the comfort that it had provided,
to those afflicted by sickness and guilt, only to be rent apart in the pursuit of its occupant.
That was a terrible night, and this a most tragic conclusion.
I left the place, the weight of the past dragging me down almost too much to bear.
The last standing structure after the fire, that still shows the grandeur of the original architecture.
Its two floors and dark basement leave nothing of the tale of horrors that took place here.
Nothing but memories that linger in the abandoned rooms.
Nestled in a quiet part of the grounds, Father Campbell's Chapel was a haven from the horrors of the rest of the Asylum.
Those patients whose illnesses were less severe were given the run of the place and many would come here for refuge,
to communicate with God and confess their sins.
Sadly, Father Campbell's legacy of good works counted for nothing when The Nurse's mind snapped,
and he drew his final breath in the confessional that had helped so many.
Now the Chapel has been joined by a strange companion: a carny's caravan, pulled by shadowy horse.
It has long travelled through the Fog, moving from Realm to Realm, and now temporarily camps here.
Beware: only a fool would let the bright colours seduce them into visiting.