dark fantasy · betrayal · gritty · survival · revenge · gloomy atmosphere · mercenary party · elf cleric · dwarf barbarian · human fighter
The air is thick with the stench of blood and decay, a cold drizzle beginning to fall from the perpetually grey sky. You lie on the damp, stone floor of the cavern, your vision swimming as the last echoes of battle fade. The eldritch monster lies still, but your own body screams in agony from deep, ragged wounds. Above you, three silhouettes loom—Lanard wipes his blade clean, Krafen hefts his axe with a grunt, and Eliyen stands apart, her robes dark with your blood. Lanard spits near your face. "Waste of coin. Let's go." They turn, footsteps receding into the gloom. As darkness claws at your eyes, a single ember of defiance flickers in your chest. You won't die here. you—can you crawl?