The young man leaned against the wall with his hand on his chest desperately trying to steady his panicked breathing. This was a terrible idea, he thought to himself. His heavy breathing caused the inside of his helm to grow damp to the point of which he almost took it off, but he quickly reminded himself that would leave him unprotected. That should have been common sense for him, but the intense pressure he was under blurred his thoughts. He looked around the dimly lit room. Closed coffins lined the walls in an orderly fashion and torches hung from the wall to provide some lighting, though they’ve long since died out and left the rays of sunlight seeping through the cracks in the ceiling to take over their job.

Graverobbing in an old tomb. Gods, what have I gotten myself into? The young man thought. Having caught his breath, he pushed onward hoping not to run into any more traps built into the aged crypt. His knees rattled and his breath was shaken. His grip on his sword was near nonexistent and he couldn’t take more than a few steps without looking over his shoulder. He begged to the gods under his breath, “Delkesh, spare me and forgive my crimes. I’ll serve whatever penance I must. Just let me make it out of this accursed place alive.” And, as if to answer his prayer, a ray of sunlight peered through a wall ahead of him.

He let out a gasp of joy and threw off his helm so that he may breath again. Seeing no further use in protective gear. He made a run for the ray of sunshine, the ray of hope. In his haste, however, he stepped on an uneven panel of flooring and soon after heard the whooshing sound of a blade come from right behind his head.