Wilhelm let out deep, guttural sound of excitement as he made his way down the first passage. After his initial run in with the spear bearing skeleton, things got easier, the shield helping immensely. Rather than using it in a purely defensive manner, Wil used it as a weapon, bashing and charging at skeletons. Shattering bones as the edge of the shield hit them, or completely crushing them as he threw his full weight behind the shield and slammed them up against walls. He found that the spear was impractical as a weapon against the skeletons, the spear just skidded off of their skulls leaving small gashes.

After two small packs of trying the spear, he decided to sling it across his back, tucking it down inside of the robe so that the haft was against his back and held in place by his belt. Keeping the shield however he soon ran into a skeleton using what seemed to at one time have been a battle axe, though now all that remained was the well-worn handle and an iron clump that the blades used to be attached to. He decided to take it up and use it like a mace, putting skeletons down with embrace as the makeshift mace shattered skulls and arms alike, from what he could tell so far weapon wielding skeletons were quite rare.

In the past thirty minutes, he had only encountered the spear bearer and the one with the ruined axe, The entire time he walked the hall stayed the same, four feet wide, three narrow recesses in which linen bound remains laid, undisturbed. Wil found himself no concerned with good reason as it seemed that not every body would rise, but on occasion, a skeleton would roll out of a linen wrap and clatter onto the floor like a newborn calf.

The awakening seemed to be random for now, but he had a sinking suspicion that the longer he stayed in the crypt, the more skeletons would rise until they were all exhausted. Soon he came to what had to be the end of the hallway, a large circular room containing an embalming table. Looking around Wil found all manner of tools for embalming the dead or rather harvesting the blood and organs judging by the jars lining the shelves, reagents for the darkest of magics, Curses.

As he looked around he found a small leather box with a metal clasp, as he lifted it up, he could hear the faint chime of glass. Curious he opened it up to see five rectangular vials about an inch across and five inches tall. Inside only three were filled, two held a red liquid that gave off a faint glow, the third held a blue liquid that glowed even brighter than the two put together. While he had a good idea that these were health and mana potions, small elixirs that would heal his wounds or replenish his mana he didn't entirely trust them to be unadulterated.

For the time being, he slid them onto his belt, keeping them directly in front of him and carefully working a flap of the robe over the box to hide it. Besides the box, there was a thick leather roll that upon opening revealed a pristine set of torture implements, made of steel that was still shining, covered in what he hoped and prayed to be oil or rendered animal fat.

While never planning to torture anyone he figured a set like this had to be worth something, tucking them into his belt he gave the room one last thorough look over. Running his hands across every surface, pressing every slightly out of place stone on the wall, even moving the jars around. Soon a moment of paranoia hit him; he saw a large brazier in the corner of the room, unlit but full of well-dried wood. Grabbing one of the torches that lined the wall he lit the brazier before he covered his mouth and nose with the sleeve of the robe, opening the jars before carefully fishing the organs out of them and tossing them on top of the fire, destroying them. As for the blood, he opened one to see it had turned to a blackish red powder and since it couldn't be used for any grisly curses that he had ever heard of he let them be rather than breaking all of the jars.

The thought that had sparked his paranoia was quite simply What if? What if there was some form of lich or witch in the crypt that would discover his presence and make its way to this room to prepare reagents for a battle against him. Wilhelm stood and watched the organs in the fire, even as the flames flickered black and blue he watched. Making damn sure that not a spec of them remained, even as the stench of burning flesh flooded the chamber. And only when the fire died out, and all that remained was ash did he leave the room, On the way back out he decided to get proactive.

Rather than testing his theory that the entombed dead would rise over time, he began pulling the bundles on the floor and opening them, shattering every skull he found, it would be his luck that not doing this would cause his quest to drag out. It took nearly an hour of smashing skulls to make his way back into the center chamber. A jolt of fear shot through him as the statues on the altar had all turned to face the doorway he was walking out of, while he felt no danger there was the deep feeling of primordial fear of being watched, and now he knew that these deities, or perhaps Sam were watching him.

Though his right hand was trembling Wil made his way to the next door over, with one last glance over his shoulder at the goddesses he saw that they still faced the other doorway. Swallowing his spit Wil opened the door and instantly raised his shield, mace at the ready as a skeleton lunged at him like earlier, shoving forward with the shield he began laying into the enemies with the mace. There were more now, six in total. All unarmed but he could make out that one had a piece of armor on, a vambrace that seemed to be made of black leather. Thinking nothing of it, he kept bashing his way into the hall, knocking away skeletons until finally, only one remained, the one with the vambrace.

It had stood back and watched Wil fight, let him tire himself against the others before it moved in itself. With a deep breath, he pulled his shield up and swung at the skeleton as he had done at least twelve times today, expecting the same impact of his shield on the skeleton only for it to drop low to the ground, under the shield before lashing out with its left hand. There was a flash of silver as a hidden blade came flying from the vambrace and biting into Wils side, dragging a shout of pain out of him as he swung the mace violently. Across the width of the hallway, shattering the skeletons right leg, sending it off balance and falling to the floor before he fell upon it.

Raining down a flurry of blows with the improvised mace until its skull laid in pieces and its arms were dust, Placing a hand on his side and bringing it up showed a minor amount of blood. He had gotten lucky this time, and the blade had not cut deep thanks to the skeleton hitting the bundle of tools on his hip with the base of the blade. Wil groaned softly as he bent over and picked up the vambrace, giving it a thorough look over. It was made with an ambidextrous design; the release trigger was a small cable attached to a ring that was made to slip over one's middle finger, With a twitch of the finger it was possible to deploy the blade.

Looking closer all Wil had to do was pull the cable again and the lock disengaged, letting him push the tip against the floor before it clicked into its base. He buckled the vambrace on and was pleased to see that it fit pretty well, carefully sliding the ring onto his middle finger Wil gave it a try. He made a fist and without moving his forearm turned it up, giving a quick flick of the wrist which activated the blade, shocking him as it shot out with enough force to send a jolt through his arm as the blade locked into place. After a moment of looking at the excellently detailed work of the weapon he opened the lock and pushed the blade back into place using the wall.

Nodding he resumed his walking, deciding to follow the same method as last time he fought any "Living" skeletons as he progressed through the hallway, This time, however, this time he found something new. At a point where he would have fought another weapon wielding enemy, he found a set of stairs that spiraled down to a lower floor. With a shrug to himself, Wil began down the stairs, smooth stone that showed signs of heavy wear, either there was a leak when it rained hard enough or more likely this was a frequently trod path. With every step down it grew colder and colder, and by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs the floor had a light sheen of frost.

He had reached a depth that he could only guess was two stories below the surface, if not for his disposition to cold environments and the fur robe he would have been shivering right now. The area was now different, showing signs of construction more than just excavation. This area had been dug out, and the walls of cobbled stone were put up along with support pillars. As he walked, he heard a new sound, an almost human groan as the sound of flesh on stone sounded ahead. Footsteps that were not his own, Wilhelm leveled his shield as he chose to slip his makeshift mace into his belt, pulling his spear free and bringing it up to the shield.

Soon he entered a new, far larger area than the last, judging by the torches he could see the area was a vast chamber that was nearly fifty feet wide by what he could only guess to be two hundred feet long. This area was dimly lit compared to the last; the torches were spread few and far between creating areas of complete darkness which threw off one's sense of distance. And the farther he stepped into the room, the louder the sounds of footsteps grew. Once he was ten feet past the door it slammed shut violently behind him, all of a sudden torches flickered to life and lit the room up enough that it hurt his eyes, now looking through lidded eyes he could make out the source of the sounds. A vast group of undead.

Wils heart rate spiked suddenly as he leaped backward towards the now closed door, his eyes readjusting in time to see exactly what stood before him. Draug, they were effectivly the second level of undead one could raise in a technical sense. These were stronger, smarter, and faster than skeletons, retaining enough strength to wear sets of armor and full sized weapons. While they were stronger, they were still not quite as powerful as an actual zombie, a corpse which still maintained the vast majority of its muscle mass due to only having been dead for a fortnight or less.

Panic ran through Wil as his vision returned and he was met with the sight of fifty Draug, all of whom wore full leather armor, though all stood unarmed, and in perfect ranks, small squads of five in ten rows. Most notable however was that they all stood before a behemoth of a man, or what was once a man. Standing before Wilhelm was a human male who seemed to be in his mid-twenties, His skin was as white as freshly fallen snow, his eyes as red as blood. Wil found himself looking at an eerie undead version of himself, well his real body anyway. The man had dark brown hair that reached between his shoulder blades, pulled back into a neat ponytail, he had a well-groomed beard of matching brown.

He stood tall and proud in a full suit of black leather armor with chain mail underneath with an eclipse embossed on the chest piece; He wore only one pauldron that was made from bleached bears skull. He held a massive battle axe in the same design as the one wielded by the goddess sitting with its pommel between his feet, his hands resting on top of it. As Wils eyes came back into focus, the man smirked coldly, a look of bored amusement on his lips. "Welcome little warrior to the arena..." As the man spoke the Draug broke ranks, splitting in half and moving to either side to reveal a small pit, lined with wood it was similar to one of the underground fight rings one would see in ancient Rome.

Wil swallowed deeply as he looked back to the man. "My name is Wilhelm, What about you? What is all of this?" As the strange undead heard his name a faint smile crossed his lips, a look of nostalgia. "My name little warrior is something you will have to earn..." With a snap of the warrior's fingers, Wil felt four hands grab him from seemingly nowhere. As he struggled to pull free, he found himself faced with two beautiful elf women, twins who were much like the unnamed warrior, wearing similar armor though one had a pair of long daggers on her waist and the other had a small tome on her waist. The one to his right giggled slightly at the look of combined fear and obvious lust in his eyes, though things shifted suddenly and the world grew cold as the one on his left suddenly reached a hand into his hood and touched the back of his neck.

His legs went limp as he soon found himself on his back with the two began stripping him of his belongings, The woman on the right pouted as she clicked her tongue. "Vivian you're so dull, he's just a kid it's not like he could have over powered us... It's been so long since I had someone who could fight back even a little...." As she spoke, the woman ran her hands over his body, feeling for weapons as she removed his axe from his belt, sliding it towards the warrior's feet."Behave Lilim; we can't make the master wait because you want to play with the toy..."

The woman he now knew was named Lilim kept pouting as she straddled his waist, setting her full weight down on him as she began pulling the robe away. At the same time, he noticed that so far Vivian had not removed her hand from his neck, this small detail letting him know that her spell likely required constant contact. Lilim wasted no time removing his belt and with it the roll of tools and his potions."Well well, looks like we have a little Raider, didn't your mother ever tell you that stealing from the dead is bad luck..."

She then gently pried his right-hand open, working one finger loose at a time as she freed the spear from his grasp and sliding it across the floor to her master, followed by Vivian doing the same with his makeshift mace. She then did the same with his left hand, prying his hand open to remove the shield before tossing it to the warrior's feet, next Lilim unclasped the vambrace and tossed it on top of the small pile as she stood up. Grabbing him by his right arm as the pair stood him up, pulling him to the edge of the pit.

He could tell it was sand in the bottom, though he could see the splatter of blood staining the sands, apparently not having been used for some time. Then Lilim grabbed the hood of his robe and pulled it back as Vivian shoved him forward, sending him sprawling into the pit now naked of all weapons and his robe. However as the last inch of robe left his body Wil let out a pathetic whimper, shivering violently as the world grew dull once more, colors growing less vibrant, his body growing colder as he now could see his breath.

This reaction caused Lilim to shiver herself, licking her lips as she felt her own body up."Sooooo cute!, Hey hey master can I have him when you're done?!" However as she was lost in her sadistic pleasure, Vivian pulled the robe from her hands and looked at the inside of it before carefully folding it, walking over to the pile and setting it on top of the shield. "His robe was a Fetish Sir, A powerful one at that." The warrior smiled faintly as he watched his elves work, laughing as he walked to the edge of the pit and looked down at the boy, taken aback as he saw the tattoos on his body. "Not just that my girls, He is also being watched by not just one but two goddesses...."

The warrior crouched down as Wil struggled to stand up, his shivering making his feet slip out from under him more than once. "Just who are you, little warrior? It is rare for a goddess to take an interest in a mortal, and two interested in the same one is actually unheard of outside of my goddesses..." As Wil finally stood up he grew annoyed at the look of amusement on their faces, he could tell that they could have killed him instantly, but now they are just playing with him, the way a ."J..j..just wh...who the hell are you three!"

As he stood up, the warrior smiled, crouching and looking down at Wil from the edge of the pit."I am a Deathlord of the Forsaken Legion, these two are my personal guards, that is all you have earned little warrior, And now it is time for you to earn your death..." With that, the Deathlord sat down on a cushioned stone bench with a back near the ring as he snapped his fingers. In one perfect unison, the two elves took a seat on either side of their master, and a walked to the edge of the pit, a rack of weapons near its right, turning to the Deathlord to seek orders."You will now fight my horde, should you defeat them all then I will give you the honor of fighting one of my guards. However, since you are but a whelpling I will make you an offer, Kill five of these Dragur with your bare hands and I will grant you your choice of your belongings, just one, however...." With a wave of his hand, the first Dragur dropped into the ring unarmed.

The Dragur had been a short man in life, but stout, despite his shivering Wil nodded and took a deep breath, "Blessing of Protection!, Blessing of Battle!" As he shouted, the ring was light up with a dark crimson glow as his body was coated in an aura, From his seat, the Deathlords smile grew larger, through the boy's aura he could make out the truth about him. What he was deep down in the depths of his soul. "That's the spirit lad, now....Begin!"

With the permission of its master, the draugr rushed towards Wil, and all Wil could imagine was being grabbed and crushed to death in the large draugr's arms. Having a disadvantage in every way, Wil decided that survival was the key here, not honor or glory. As his opponent got closer, he dove to the side, rolling a little as his right hand scooped up a handful of the sand, throwing it into the undead's face, blinding it as he charged, moving swiftly he leaped at the dragurs legs.

Knocking it down to the ground on its face before he mounted it, grabbing it by the jaw with his left hand and placing his right on the back of its head, pushing and pulling at the same time to violently snap its neck, causing it to vanish in a puff of dust. Luckily for him, it seemed that the conditions for killing the dragur were the same as a human. Standing up Wil began to dust himself off as the next opponent dropped in, this one, however, wielded a black steel dagger, this made Wil groan softly as he got ready. Between his heart rate rising and the rush of adrenaline, his body stopped shivering.

This draugr was tall and thin, likely some type of rouge in life, it held its dagger at the ready with its off hand out and prepared to grab Wil should he make a mistake. Wil decided to try repeating his earlier tactic, to a degree, kicking his foot down into the sand and up towards the dragur to try and blind it. However, the dragur had paid attention to its fellows fight, turning his back towards the sand as it spun and dropped low, slashing out with the dagger right as Wil charged, putting a deep gash in his chest which drew a howl of pain from him. As the blade passed from one side of his chest to the next, it bit into his sternum, luckily going no deeper than that this time as Wil pushed through the pain and kept up his charge.

Before his opponent could take another swing his hand lashed out, grabbing its wrist as he balled up his right hand into a fist, bringing it down viciously upon the dragurs face, his knuckles splitting open as he kept going. Pinning the dragurs other arm down with his right leg, soon a wet crunch sounded as he managed to crack its skull and ram a shard into its brain. Causing it to explode and vanish. Panting Wil staggered to his feet as a slow, albeit steady stream of blood dripped from his chest. As he stood up however he had a small amount of sand in each hand. Keeping his fists balled up as he grit his teeth, opening his right hand he shoved the fine sand into his wound and rubbed it in, hoping to staunch the blood loss even if only for a little while.

With another howl of pain another foe dropped into the pit, luckily it was unarmed, panting Wil didn't wait for it to stand completely, rushing it and throwing the sand in his left hand. Not stopping even as it raised an arm to block the sand, throwing his full weight into the charge only for the dragur to side step him, one of its hands cupping the back of his head as he passed and shoved hard, sending him face first into the wooden wall. Tears sprang to his eyes as he struggled to keep them clear, spinning with blood pouring from his nose, letting out a shout of rage he charged once more. Though as the dragur tried to side step him Wil dropped down to the ground and lashed out with his leg, knocking its feet out from under it and falling upon it, once more beating its skull in with his right hand, the bones on his knuckles now exposed and glistening white in the torchlight.

Standing once again Wil shoved another handful of sand into his chest wound and ground his fist into the sand as he panted raggedly, but as he stood up fully, there was a sudden burning pain on his back. And a sudden crack, the next draugr had already jumped into a pit, now wielding a whip, Crying out in pain Wil staggered forward and spun to face his newest foe right as the whip returned, striking across his right eye and drawing a guttural cry of rage and pain from him. However as the next strike came, Wil lashed out with his left arm, growling in pain as the whip laid his forearm wide open.

As a result of his sacrifice, he managed to grab hold of the whip. The draugr tried to pull it back, and Wil let it, jumping into the pull, slamming his right heel into the undead's face, killing it instantly. Panting harder now as sobs tore from his chest Wil stood at the ready, looking up and spinning around like a wounded beast, looking for the next draugr as they had all taken places at the edge of the ring, circling it ready to jump from anywhere. None held weapons, but the weapons now floated above the ring, just above the torches which explain why they didn't cast shadows. However, they were still in the reach of the Draug as they leaped into the pit

The next draugr to enter the pit held a short sword and had a nimble build, short and lithe, and upon closer examination had once been female. Wil jumped back as this one wasted no time, kicking off of the wall and staying low to the ground as it lashed out, laying a deep slash into his thigh. Howling at the pain Wil bit his lip violently, blood flooding his mouth as he pushed through the pain and brought his knee up into the draugr's face, the force of its charge and impacting with his knee snapping its neck and making it vanish. Spinning Wil looked up at the Deathlord and panted, swallowing his blood as he pointed to his belongings which now floated above the bench that he and his "guards" sat upon.

"I want my robe back now...." There was a deep hate in his eye that made all three of them lean forward in their seats; he could see Lilim licking her lips while Vivian looked him over. The Deathlord smiled from ear to ear as he nodded."Very well little warrior...." With a wave of his hand the robe fell into the pit, and as Wil pulled it on, he let out a sigh of relief, tying the belt tightly as he pulled the hood up. And before another draug had the chance he howled out "Blessing of Healing!" The aura around him grew clearer now, the color darkening as they could see his right eye seemingly catch fire, the wound burning shut as his remaining left eye turned a bright gold with the pupil dilating, his nostrils flaring as every sense in his body kicked into overdrive. What stood before them at the moment was a caged beast who understood that the only way out, was through.