-in the dungeons of Stonvar Castle, the beginning of the journey-
Leaning on the door with force, you open it. Before even have time to take a step, you slip on the stone steps, but you manage to press yourself against the wall at the last moment and keep your balance. An excruciatingly long moment passes when you catch your breath and try to see the way ahead through the blackness. You are still unable to get out of your head everything that happened to you and your group before.
Quite recently, there were several brave souls who went to the gloomy castle on the hill. You and your team tried to finish off an evil ghoul who recently returned to his non-life…Now, of the eight brave men, only you are left, and your goal is the almost killed undead. You, still remembering the death of each of your comrades, as if it all happened again right in front of your eyes, just can't give up. You have to finish the task started. After all, if it's not you, then no one will do it. However, one more important obstacle remains between you and your enemy – the darkest and darkest part of the castle is its dungeon.
Picking up an antique oil lamp from the floor, you hold out your hand with it forward. You see, how the steps are drawn out of the darkness, leading down. You feel a slight dampness in the air touching your face. How the cold penetrates your feet in heavy boots. Unnatural, creepy, sneaking even through fabric and skin.
Moving away from the stone wall, you more conveniently intercept your grandfather's hunting shotgun. The last two special bullets covered with silver remained in it. You feel the shirt and black trousers with suspenders soaked in the blood of the unholy creature and your comrades sticking to your body.
There is nowhere to go back and there is no time. Supplies are scarce. You only have one chance to succeed.
Understanding all this, you take the first decisive step into the unknown. A dull echo bounces off the walls, slipping far down. You can hear your heart pounding. This sound presses on the temples, and it seems that it is reflected from the walls as well as the noise of your footsteps. Soon you feel a barely discernible hum coming from the bowels of the dungeons. At some point, it seems to you that they are as if alive, and you shrink for a moment. And yet you take a few more steps down. The cold covers you from all sides. Strange moist air settles on the skin. Nasty as a graveyard, it fills your lungs. A narrow, oppressive corridor leads you somewhere ahead. Dim light helps to see only a small piece of the way out of the general darkness.
Holding your finger near the trigger of the shotgun, you go down a few steps. One more step, and you feel like you stepped on a flat floor. The narrow corridor still leads only forward, where there is darkness. Or back to where the stairs are. Here it is hardly possible to spread your arms to the sides, so with a shotgun it is unlikely that you will be able to turn back quickly. In your decision to reach the end, you are heading further, forward, into the darkness of an unpleasant and smooth stone corridor. Each step is accompanied by a nasty sound of crunching of small crumbs under boots, a rumble and an echo. First, second, here's the third step. With caution, you move on, discerning only a faint echo of drops falling from above.
