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| Diebold Schilling der Jüngere |
You wake up from a dream in which you were being eaten by a ghoul.
All you can remember was hardly being able to breathe, paralysed,
and trapped in a cold vault lit by one half burned candle. This
creature that resembled a normal human being at one time was dragging
itself on its stomach toward you. Its fingernails were overgrown
and stained with old blood and dirt. Its face and its flesh were
grey, and there were dark blemishes across its back from
when it had died. The mortis stains hadn't cleared away from beneath
its wrinkled skin. All you can recall from this nightmare was
its teeth biting into your forearm, your blood leaking out on
the floor, and your muscles being gnawed on desperately. The sound
of the ghoul biting down onto your forearm bone was what woke
you up. The crunch... the gurgling... the hissing delight of laughter...
Fighting off the pit of nausea, you peer around the room you're
currently in. Your head is throbbing in pain. It appears to be
a cell or a dungeon. Insects scuttle across the floor away from
you back into the dark shadows as you come to. Some light from
the moon outside is shining in through the barred slit that is
the only window. Even if you wanted to escape this way, you
wouldn't even be able to fit your head through it. There is a
large, heavy door with iron grates set into the stone wall ahead
of you. It has no handle, only a tiny keyhole, and a square window
with three thick bars across it.
Whoever put you in here had made the intention clear that they
did not want you to escape.
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