Carefully, we walked down dusty winding stairs into the bowels of the beast below,the steps of the tusked man still ringing from further ahead. No screams, no exclamations of ‘oh shit’, no signs of danger. Yet. Just steps and the distant carefree hum of ‘Treasure, trolls, trinkets ho’ ‘neath the browning earth and stone.

“Treasure, treasure, trinkets ho, make beware of trolls and trough.” I quietly mumbled to myself.

That’s another weird thing to suddenly remember. The name and tune of a mediocre song. But I do like bards, I know that. The songs. The stories.

“Gods, this architecture is old.” Lohan said. “Must be… hmm….” He stopped to read something scrawled along the walls.

“Lohan. We’re falling behind.” I still wanted to catch up to the tusky guy and if not give him a piece of my mind, then at least find out what his name was. I’d remember it forever, in the category of needlessly rude dudes.

“Hm? Right, right.”

The first room we reached was rather small, a fifteen by twenty-foot rectangle. My boots brushed along rough stone tiles, our left and right dotted with long scooped out holes in the ground. They were empty, and I got the distinct feeling that the big rock slabs that lay on top or beside were meant to be roofs. Lids.

“Why does it always have to be graves?” I asked no one in particular.

Lohan took that as an actual question, directed at himself. “People perish. The perished must rest. A safe bed in death eases the worries of the living and dead alike.”

“Why lids?” Pim asked.

Lohan straightened up and took on a downright scholarly tone. “Well. Sometimes, a soul gets confused on its journey to the afterlife. Then, it returns to what it finds familiar. Be that by haunting its old domain, or puppeteering its old, decaying body.”

“Why do they do that?”

“They are angry. They are sad. It is not spite, or malice, usually, but they just don’t wish to accept that their time is over. Perhaps they fear judgement. Perhaps they are possessed of lingering regrets. Those are the ones most driven to return as revenants. Or undead, as the lay calls them. The lids are to make sure they don’t escape and bother the yet living folk.”

Pim was silent for a time as I turned to Lohan. He seemed ever content and calm in his certain scholarly retelling. He didn’t even see how he was affecting him. Pim was scared.

“Am… am I a bother?” he asked.

“No, No, It’s alright Pim. You’re alright.” He didn’t look at all convinced. “Here, do you want me to hold you?”

He nodded, but I couldn’t really carry him and wield a sword as well. “Oof. Man, you’ve gotten heavy. Grown a bit?”

He eagerly nodded and I gave him a squeeze. “Good. Lohan?”

“Hmm?”

“Tell him why we, as people coming back from the dead, are not a bother.” Pim stared at him with guilt-inducing eyes. But I too wanted to hear it from Lohan’s mouth. More opinions on who and why we are.

“Hmmm.” He said and tapped the side of his cheek in thought. “Quite simple. We’re not revenants. We were blessed by the gods, so that upon our deaths, our souls weren't called to their mountain for judgement, but slumbered within our reposed bodies. We were never truly dead. And we have come back, been awoken, for a purpose they have yet to reveal.”

Huh. That is… actually a sound answer. Reassuring. Calming. For me and Pim.

“Thanks for that. Here. Your reward” I gave him Pim back, because in spite of that save, he still required the little man to forgive him and me to protect them both. He stared a scowling Pim in the eyes.

They’re practically made for each other.

I turned to the front, ignoring the hissing Pim and nervous sounds from Lohan as I strode through the small arched doorway. It led further down. Though the steps grew wider, and the burial rooms did as well. The bronze-colored stone walls opened up, with long, people-shaped alcoves carved out of them.

More bodies. Skeletons. A large graveyard underground. A catacomb? Yeah, that’s what they’re called.

I turned a corner, only to be met with a single skeleton, its back facing me. It stood there, bones moving and rattling even without any sign of muscle. It held its head in one hand and with a weird plop sound, affixed it to its neck.

I unsheathed my sword as quietly as I could, the pounding of my heart nearly even louder. It patted its skull twice and screwed it on a bit tighter.

“Great gods–“ Lohan said, spoiling the whole being-sneaky deal. The skeleton immediately turned its head around, two glowing lights within peering right down into my soul.

Shit.

Then, its body followed and what looked like a very old, rusted dagger came right towards me.

I stepped back and the attack missed, the skeleton staggering forward a bit too much than was entirely healthy.

An opening? Already? Was it that easy?

I barely gave myself the time to think about it before I hit it across the head with my sword. The old bones were brittle, and the skull broke open like cheap pottery. Pim yelped, and I gripped my weapon tight.

It’s not dead yet. Not dead-dead.

The skeleton was giving me an unusual amount of time to consider as it stepped back, half its face cracked asunder. It held up its buckler shield and simply waited for me to make my next move. And waited. And waited.

“Is it… broken?” Lohan asked, having put down Pim. He stepped to my side, his face showing only mild claw marks.

Broken? What about dead? Is this a monster, is this a person trapped in their own decayed body? Can you kill what has died once before or can you just… break it further until it can move no more?

“No idea.” I said and, in that moment, its movements suddenly turned back to life, and it lunged at the unprotected mage.

And with lunged, I mean launched itself. Loosened like a twirling arrow, it went for the squishiest man in the room.

I stepped in front out of instinct and braced to be pummeled to the ground. Instead, the corkscrewing skeleton shattered against me, pushing me back only two steps.

“Uh.” I uhh-ed.

Skeletons are kind of… light. Huh.

“I feel thoroughly unprepared.” Said Lohan. “We should return and warn the others. I do not wish to find out what else lurks here. I am not a fighter.”

I swallowed a lump in my throat and turned towards him. “Yes. You and Pim go do that. I… I will make sure the other guy doesn’t open any hidden horrors or forgotten sealed demon or something.”

Lohan chuckled weakly. “Please don’t joke about such things. But alas, I am not a fighter. I shall be off. Come little cat-man. The knight-lady tells us to get help.”

“Awww. But, but–“

“I offer you a big piece of thigh if you follow me now. And you wouldn’t want to weigh down miss Rye, do you?”

“N-No…”

“Come. We normal people are just in the way. But even we can help. Quick now, a race to the top.”

And with that they were off. Pim listened despite having his small adventure spoiled, showing off exactly how fast he could scamper up the stairways. And Lohan jogged after with a slight limp.

Guess I’m not the only one with a permanent injury. All the more reason to be extra careful.

Just as I thought that the cackling pop sounded out behind me again. I ducked barely as the skeleton stabbed the air above me. Turns out, it was the same one once again, simply having pulled together its hundreds of bones by the strings of an unseen force.

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I tucked in my head and simply rammed it against the wall with my body. It fell apart and as it did, the light in its eyes glowed ten times brighter than before. The bones wiggled and writhed in place, before trying to gather together in a pile of sensible connections. I stomped the head before it could reform. Finally, it looked like that put an end to it, the bones simply laying there, dead again.

The distant smell of bone-marrow and age-old dust filled the air.

I sneezed.

Now that I’m not under threat of dying, time for loot. But… this dagger is pretty much falling apart. The buckler at least seems usable. If I could move my right arm. Ugh. I need some more leather belts and stuff. They’re all back in my little corner of the temple.

Ironically, I’d love nothing more than to have my club right now. I can take a skeleton or two, surprisingly fragile as they are. But I’ve got to hurry. If this reckless treasure hunter wakes up an army of skeletons, it’s not gonna be pretty for everyone sleeping above.

Also, maybe there’s treasure down here. A little bit of riches would be nice. A small something as a reward for the risk.

Then again, I haven’t really been all that lucky. Not gonna get my hopes up now.

And with that, I walked down and deeper yet.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Fighting ancient skeletons armed with nothing but steel that was basically rusting apart and the odd tattered shield or so was an oddly… sobering experience. It made me feel powerful, and not because they gave all too much soul afterwards. It was quite little actually, less than three feet of dim light after five separate encounters.

Did this guy just walk past all of them? What an… uncareful thing to do. Pretty rude too.

Setting their gear aside, even their behavior didn't make them dangerous, just predictable. They never feinted, only going for straight jabs and incredibly obvious slashes. What caught me off guard was when they did something normal human bodies couldn’t do. Like spin their upper bodies around in a circle or take their own limbs and use them as blunt clubs. In spite of the surprises, I only really felt my life threatened twice.

Once, a skeleton came at me from behind. I had just arrived at a small crossroads and failed to notice it crawl out of a pot behind me in time. It jumped on to my back and clung like one of those giant fleas, rattling like a horrible laugh and scratching against my armor. It scared the ever-loving shit out of me, but besides that, it managed to accomplish very little by the time I caved in its skull.

Alright. Focus. Like in the swamp. They can be everywhere.

The second one I just flat out messed up against. I underestimated its reach and after fighting six or so before, I thought there was nothing I hadn’t seen them do. But when I hit this one over the head, cracking its skull with my blade, it just leaned over and bit me into my unprotected neck.

I bashed it to death quickly enough with the pommel and guard of my sword, but the area it bit hurt quite a bit. This particular skeleton had had two single fangs and I was bleeding out of the holes they made in my neck a bit. Suffice to say, I was not all that keen on staying down here that much longer.

Shit. My poor sword really isn’t made for cracking skulls. Where the hell is this stupid treasure hunter anyways? Should I just head back up and wait for him to come back? Barricade the doorway?

No. No, I shouldn’t leave anyone behind. Not even him. It’s not about how ignorant, stupid or bad he is, it’s about how good I am.

And with that, I entered the umpteenth crumbling room of bone dust and ash. Strong slabs of stone flanked the entryway in doors too large to move, revealing the oddly tall and wide room. Stacks of coffins, wooden boxes and chests littered the corners and lined the walls like fallen bricks. The air had a smell of mold about it, one that made my eyes water a little. Not so much the greedy treasure hunter sat in the middle of it.

“Hey!” I called out to the tusked man searching through a pile of old bones.

I’d have condemned desecrating a grave in my early days here. Now? Well, actually, I’d still condemn it. But with the actual outlook of treasure, and the old rattlebones showing themselves unreasonably hostile, it was easy to compromise with my conscience.

The man stood up and grabbed his club. It looked almost comically small in his hands, but that was just because he was relatively big. “Who goes there?”

“Just me.” I said and stepped forward; hands held up. “I mean no harm. But you, sir, are being quite the bother. There are skeletons everywhere, and you woke them up. What if they go up and into the temple?”

He spit on the ground. “Don’t care. See this? See that? All mine. I discovered it. You want a share o’ the treasure? Get your own damn hoard! Now screw off!”

I scoffed, mouth hanging open. “You don’t care? That anyone could get hurt just because you were greedy?”

“Yup.”

The fucking audacity of this guy. But what was I going to do about it? Walk up to him and politely ask him to think of the children? The poor and the sick? Well, it would be just as convincing as telling him the biggest treasure was over the edge of the temple-island. So, I did just that.

I walked forward, knees straight, chin held high, sword ready. For self-defense. Not for murder.

“Y’know, I’m not the only one who’s gonna be a bit pissy at your stupid one-man-show down here.”

He looked down at me, because of course he did. But I had a sword where he had a club. And a lot more armor as well. Even if I was small, he shouldn’t underestimate me.

“‘s every man, woman and child for himself. Just looking after myself.” He clutched a string of jewelry in his free hand. “Last warning missy. Fuck. Off.”

This guy. I gulped down my fears and stared him straight in the eye. “And what if I don’t want to?”

Within one beat of a heart and a single step, I was within his reach. Closer even, because he was in mine. And he couldn’t swing all that great from up there. “What if I tell everyone that because you couldn’t wait to do this the safe way, there’s now an army of skeletons and worse right below their formerly safe sleeping spot, hmm?”

He didn’t really answer. But he did take a step backward.

Keep pushing. Look meaner. Keep his club-hand in view. Be calm, or lacking that, pretend. Think of him like… a stupid brother. Yeah. A big younger brother. He’s not scary. Just spoiled. Just… irresponsible.

“What’s your name?” I asked with clipped words.

“Why the fuck do you want to know?”

One step closer. I’m basically smelling his chest, that’s how close I am and woof. Smells like rotten leather and dead-people sweat. This guy probably never showered since he came back from the dead.

“And? Your name?”

“… Howard.”

“Good. Howard. Look around. How many dead skeletons do you see?”

“A lot.”

“Good. Now, think of what would happen if those weren’t all that dead. If they snuck up and shanked you in your sleep, got their knives really up in there. Rusty and twisting in your gut, and you’d be screaming, begging for-“

“Alright, alright! I get it.” He chuffed and looked to the side. “I don’t want no trouble. Just a bit of treasure. To make ends meet.”

A bit of tension left his body. I took a step back and shook my head. “A friend of mine almost got shanked. It’s ‘just a bit of treasure’ for you now, but it’s a whole heap of trouble for everyone else later.”

He didn’t seem convinced.

“And for yourself pretty soon as well.” I added.

He stared holes into the air a bit but started nodding. “I’ll get going real soon. Take what you want then. Can’t carry it all. But this.” He pointed at an iron lockbox. “This is mine.”

I shrugged. “Sure, whatever. Just get your ass in gear and get out of here. I’m sure there’s enough treasure for everyone.”

He just scoffed and went back to fiddling with his treasure. “There never is. Everyone else would fight over grains of sand if it were silver or golden.”

“And you wouldn’t?”

He shrugged. “First come, first serve. I get the best, and then I get the hell outta here. No fight no fuss.”

What a charming fellow. Still, he had an ever so loose point. The air was horrid, the ground dusty or wet. No one ever came here. And people were often buried with valuable things. Though, how much use treasure was when merchants demanded a part of your soul as payment was anybody’s guess.

Maybe he just really needs a fresh pair of underwear?

I chuckled to myself at that and went to search around the room myself. The big stone coffins littering much of the room seemed rather abandoned. I couldn’t lift a single lid, but thankfully, most of the walls were filled with their own little places of rest. Ugly dry or molded faces of long-forgotten people were all that greeted me. Moldy clothes, blackened jewelry and worthless coins littered these parts. Howard was picking them all up, judging by his bulging pockets.

I rummaged through a number of crates and smaller chests, all falling apart not just at the hinges, but throughout the entire wooden body of them. I found nothing that really piqued my interest. Everything had rotted to the core, both the containers and the contents.

Oh look, a hoard of coins. If only they were worth something. Stupid Harris. Stupid soul economy. Stupi– woah. What’s this?

One of the longer and bigger boxes wasn’t yet fully rotted and with a bit of wiggling, I broke it free of its hinges. Color me surprised when another dead face greeted me, though this time it was fully skeletal. A warrior’s grave, judging by the regal armor, the engraved helmet and the completely stiff, almost gentle repose.

Knight in a box. Though his armor is not very knight-ey. It’s very old. Very legion-like. Lots of ab-armor. It’s pretty thin and scuffed in places. The metal looks moth-eaten. If moths could eat metal. I’m not wearing any of that.

I shoved the heavy lid up and pulled out some of what was left inside before it slammed shut again.

Stupid one-arm stuff.

I mentally apologized for what sounded like a broken finger or three on the corpse. Finally out, I saw the loot its full light. It was a towering shield, heavy and a bit wider than my shoulders. Its oblong shape was flattened at the top and bottom, corners softened and with a big metal bulge set in the center. The dim chestnut colored metal that rimmed the thick wood glistened in the light despite its age. Symbols were scrawled along its rim, but when I tried to read them, I got a slight a headache.

It’s bronze. And the wood is quite thick. It’s got a few nicks here and there, but besides that? This. Is. Perfect.

Just as I lifted it left and right, there was a slam, followed by muffled screaming and crunching. I turned around and immediately went for my sword.

The chest. It’s eating Howard. It’s. Eating. Howard.

His legs were still struggling, loud slurping sounds emerging from behind the lid that closed around his head and torso down to the belly.

I ran towards him, without any idea what to do.

Hack at the chest?

The wood was hard. My sword was not made for chopping. And this chest was thick. Meanwhile, it happily chewed on the still moving Howard.

Shit. Don’t die on me.

I tried stabbing at the exact spot I had been hacking against. The tip of my blade only sunk in an inch or two before it got stuck.

What is this thing made of, wood or stone?

Howard screamed. Muffled. Pained. Gurgling.

Kicking the chest didn’t help. Stomping on it did nothing. I jammed my sword into the thin opening of its ‘mouth’, and that idea finally was the one that worked. Immediately, the whole thing shook and jolted as if awoken from a daydream. But instead of letting go, it just rattled, and pulled the lid down harder.

Crunch.

Howard stopped screaming. I on the other hand took it up in his stead. A dozen thrusts. Stabs from every angle. Making sure not to hit him. Even if I just heard his spine break, he might still be alive. Still be savable.

Burnsalve will help, right? Right? If only Vinesse were here. She’d know what to do.

The chest flagged and with a defeated creak, the lid opened of its own. The inside was a fleshy mess, like the inside of a clam or a mussel, except rimmed with hooked teeth and smelling twice as bad. A big pink bulge in the middle convulsed and spat out the shredded body of Howard.

Blood. Blood is everywhere.

“Hey. Hey! Look at me. Howard, look at me!”

His eyes twitched and turned to me. That gaze. It went right through my soul. It pierced my heart and would haunt my dreams.

“Fuck.” He said.

And then he died.