There were many bizarre sights to be seen in the depths of the dungeon. Strange and terrible things that sent men mad, dark and wonderful vistas that sung in the souls of those lucky enough to escape them.
The Unclean Rites Of Zod, where the Fungal Formless met to dance under unseen constellations and make sacrifice.... The Razordiamond Cavern, where light itself echoed from the shattering spires of crystal and the Golems that formed themselves from the cast off shrapnel.... The Altar Of Agromishaad, which no man had seen and lived, but which at least one woman had described as overrated....
The sight of a rather bemused looking Barbarian Warlord, tied up with what looked like measuring tape, being led around the traps, past the patrols and into the forbidden depths was, it had to be said, a new one.
Golric Icecarver wasn't really sure what the hell was going on, but since it seemed to be working in his favour he decided to just roll with it. He'd felt for sure his time was up when the crazed spectre had overpowered him with it's shadowy magics. But rather than killing him it instead seemed intent on escorting him to a challenge worthy of his mettle. Perhaps it wasn't an enemy at all. Maybe it was a wandering soul that needed avenging. Maybe even it was sent by the gods of battle to escort him to his mighty destiny! He asked the sinister black robe figure this.
"Sure, why not?"
Golric Icecarver wasn't entirely sure if he should be reassured by that.
It continued to stomp down the corridor, dragging the barbarian after.
Occasionally they were challenged by groups of the more intelligent monsters, but it seemed that the very name of this dread spectre held some power here. Some pimply Goblin or other might get as far as a high pitched "Halt, who goes there?" but would quickly flee when the challenge was answered.
Truly, the curse of Pizorv Y'baazted was a terrible thing.
There were the more bestial inhabitants to be dealt with. Somewhere about the 8th level a pack of Glormling Maggothounds had come charging down the passage, dribbling terrible acidic bile and howling in their terrible burbling voices. The spectre just stood there and glared at them until they went away.
Finally, after an uncounted time the black robed figure halted. Golric wasn't sure how far they'd come now. The only light in this place came from balls of unnatural green fire that sat in broken skulls that were nailed to the wall at odd intervals. The shadows flickered and danced ominously. All was silent.
"End of the line" said the wraith, untying Golrics' bonds and handing him back his axe.
"This is the place spirit? Then what deed is it you've brought me here to accomplish?" Asked Golric with mounting excitement. Surely his glorious destiny was imminent.
"I'm sure you'll figure it out" spoke the dread spectre, who suddenly whirled around and kicked Golric, knocking him back. into the yawning pit that lay concealed in the shadows.
He hit the rough stone floor hard, knocking the breathe from his lungs. He rolled and pulled himself to his feet, struggling for air.
Something moved in the darkness. Something large. Perhaps even something huge. Two points of red light awakened in the shadows. Then two more. Then more, and more.
Golric hefted his axe and readied himself.
"Good luck!" Shouted a cheery voice from high above.
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