"Aaaargh" Lindley screamed in pain as a ricocheting bolt of lightning hit him on the left shoulder blade. The impact sent him flying through the closing doors. He hit the ground hard, completely disoriented.

A few minutes later, he was jarred awake by the searing pain on his left shoulder. He glanced at it and grimaced.

That was too close.

After catching his breath, he checked the other parts of his body. There were some burns on the left side of his face, and a great deal of his hair was also singed. Apart from some minor charred marks on his arms and legs, there were no other disturbing injuries.

A quick look around, and he saw no sign of any other giant rats or lightning-shooting traps. Although he was still reeling in fear from his experience in the lightning chamber, Lindley was grateful to be alive.

He drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. Maybe, just maybe, he could actually relax for a second or two to attend to his wounds.

With his back against the wall, he sat on the floor and rummaged through his satchel. He removed more healing herbs, dumped then in his mouth and began chewing slowly. The essence of the herbs would provide him with a portion of the needed healing energy.

After swallowing some and applying the rest of the herbs to his wounds, he closed his eyes, and didn't know the time that he fell asleep.

[Ding!]

[Alchemist Skill - Healing Herbs Obtained]

[Fighter Skill - Blade From Above Obtained]

[Honour - Beast Slayer Obtained]

[Mage Level 1]

[Alchemist Level 2]

[Fighter >> Level 2]

Several hours later, he awoke and slowly stood up. His injuries are healing well enough, though the one on his shoulder was still painfully discomforting. He fully inspected his surroundings. This place was filled with fire-flies, shedding the needed light on the dark passages.

Now, he could see high archways opening to the right and left. Corridors that doubled nowhere, while others delved deeper into the oppressive darkness.

On one of the archways, was written: THE CAVERN OF SOULS.

While on the other, it was: THE CAVERN OF THE FALLENS.

All he had to do now was to find a way out of this dark tunnels, but with the looks of things, it seemed he was going deeper into the tunnels.

He decided to be trying the passages one by one. He would try one, and if there was no luck, then he would try another passageway or tunnel. It was a crude way, but it was the only choice he had. Gradually, he worked his way to the Crypt of The Fallens.

The faint sounds he had noticed earlier grew louder. Lindley realized he was not alone in the endless maze of a crypt. He wasn't exactly sure when he first caught wind of the sounds drifting in the musty air.

At first the sounds hovered on the edge of his consciousness, filling his with a vague and nameless unease. But now, they were clearer to his ears. It was an echoing sound like that of a slamming door, the grinding of unknown metal, and high, wordless cries that were either screams of extreme agony or inhuman howls of bloodlust.

Resonance that struck his soul like deadly bolts of lightning, just as his mother had told him of the tale she heard when she was younger.

Although the sounds were faint and far off, they were enough to scare Lindley witless. These were the echoes of unfathomable threats, existing beyond the boundaries of Pridon.

Slowly, as he walked, the half-remembered tale drifted to his mind. Lore told to him as a child by his mother, of the mortal dangers and peril, lying outside the protected areas of Waterpond.

According to her, humans used to live in organized peace with other folks around the Whispering Mountains.

But as the orcs and the drows grew in power, they started raiding the neighbouring human settlements, capturing men and women. They were bringing them back to the deep burrows, to work as slaves, digging and tunneling.

The most affected were the communities near the foot of the Whispering Mountains.

Many adventurers and mercenaries were hired by the human settlements to tackle this problem, but made little difference.

With time, their raids grew in intensity. It was not long after, that the orcs, assisted by the dark elves, bugbears and the lizardfolks, invaded the fortified kingdom of Mothar. It was a deadly war.

One of the last sparks of goddess Gula vanished during the battle.

Gaffin was captured but his wife, Laedal, died in the battle. But before his captors could reach the Whispering Mountains, Gaffin managed to escape with the information he had gathered.

Residing under the shadow mountain and others like it, were powerful avatars of the dark gods. The patrons of the orcs, drows (dark elves), lizardfolks, dragonkind, and others that were as vile as them.

They were searching for some sort of artifacts, and they were ready to sacrifice all to get what they were looking for. Evil that, he, Gaffin himself had witnessed with his own eyes, despite being a powerful mage.

Even if those deadly mortal races were not in these tunnels, Lindley decided it would be safer to keep away from that side of the tunnel.

Gripping the hilt of his sword, he turned around and headed towards the crypt of souls, forcing the old stories from his head.

Entering the passage, he passed through an open archway into a long, high-ceilinged room. He could see the dancing light of some fire-flies in the distant.

But he hadn't taken more than a few steps before his nose wrinkled in disgust. A vile odor hung thickly on the air. Something crunched beneath his feet. A cautious glance at the object, he saw dull green scales embedded on the surface of a sheath.

Scales? He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this place.

Then all of a sudden, a rhythmic whirring sound, along with a rasping hiss, came from behind, stirring alarm in Lindley's chest. He quickly spun around. In the air before his hovered a brilliant green snake, leathery wings sprouting from its back flapping rapidly to keep the creature aloft.

Crimson light gleamed in its dull reptilian eyes, and the thing opened its mouth, baring long fangs.

As a gatherer of sort, he had learned a few minor skills while collecting herbs and escaping predators. He dodged barely in time to avoid the stream of poisonous venom that sprayed from the snake's mouth.

The black liquid struck the wall behind him, smoking and sizzling as it burned deep pits into the hard rock.

Lindley stared at the melting stone in shock and utter fright. In all his life, never had he seen anything as terrifying as that. There was another whirring noise to his right. He jerked his head around to see a second winged snake, flying towards his.

The flapping sound grew louder, and dry hisses sounded all around him. A dozen sinuous shapes drifted out of the shadows. Lindley could only watch in horror as he was surrounded by flying snakes. his hand firmly gripped his longsword, but he knew it would do him no good.

The creatures closed in, their bodies coiling and uncoiling menacingly. The snake's venom had burned easily through solid stone, Lindley could only imagine what it would do to flesh.

Even as he watched, the flying snakes opened cavernous mouths, baring their cranny fangs, ready to spray.