The warrior walked confidently around a corner and emerged in a large room. It appeared to be a dining hall that was dominated by a pair of large tables and illuminated by braziers scattered haphazardly around the room. Platters of half rotting meat were strewn across the tables, and the man crinkled his nose at the stench. On a raised platform nearby stood a large, open chest that was overflowing with gold coins. The warrior wasn’t concerned with such things and gave it only a passing glance.

He was more concerned about the plates of decaying meat. From the amount of food lying around, he could tell that there could easily be scores of the creatures living here, and he had just marched brazenly into their nest. The guttural sounds of their voices came from a larger passageway that connected to the dining room followed by the clanking of metal. The sounds of an impending battle. The warrior licked his lips in anticipation. All other thoughts passed from his mind as he tightened his grip around the hilt of his weapon.

The first greenskin to enter the dining hall was taller than the warrior, and bulkier. It carried a long sword that looked comically small in its hand and was clad in ill fitting armour that looked to be cobbled together from several disparate sets. It let out a roar as it thundered into the room while other, smaller greenskinned creatures swarmed in behind it.

Wanting to create space for them to fight, the warrior used his free hand to flip a table, which crushed a pair of the smaller greenskins as it crashed against the wall. A stunned silence descended over the dining hall momentarily as the creatures were left dumbstruck by the violent the display of strength, and none was more surprised than the warrior himself.

The large greenskin was the first to recover and let out a defiant roar before charging. The warrior was unafraid and stood his ground as the huge creature closed the distance. The creature raised its shoulder as it approached. It was counting on its armour and its bulk to absorb the warrior’s first hit. However, the warrior saw through its plan and sidestepped its clumsy charge easily before kicking the creature’s feet out from under it as it lumbered past.

The creature stumbled and fell, and the warrior waited for it to pick itself up before landing a savage blow on the crown of its head, splitting its head in two. The warrior’s stolen scimitar was in poor condition and snapped when it struck the creature’s gorget. He worked quickly to prise his weapon from the creature’s still twitching neck and looked up to see its underlings looking at him in horror. There were perhaps twenty of them in all. He saw the fear in their eyes and knew they would flee at the first provocation.

Taking slow deliberate steps, he walked towards the large passageway. The greenskinned creatures in his path fell over one another in their haste to make way. However, once he reached the mouth of the passageway, he turned around. He had a taste for blood, and like a shipwrecked sailor, he wouldn’t be satisfied with the small sip he’d just had.

The smaller greenskins quickly realized his intentions and charged the warrior, seemingly understanding that their only hope for survival was to overwhelm him with their numbers. The warrior skewered the first one through the belly with his longsword, and with its thrashing body still impaled on his weapon, he swung it at the second, cutting it in half at the shoulder. A third had its face caved in by his gauntleted fist.

Then, the red mist descended. The warrior fully immersed himself in the heat of battle. He swung his weapon and when it broke, he swung his fists until he could grab another from the hands of a fallen foe. By the time he came to his senses, he was the only one standing in a room full of broken bodies.

Upon realizing that none of his foes remained breathing, he let out a roar of frustration. Slaughtering the greenskins had posed no challenge, which left him feeling like he had been deprived of something valuable. He cursed their inadequacy as he looked around the dining hall for any survivors, like a starving dog trying to sniff out a final crumb. As he did, he caught a glimpse of himself in a tarnished silver platter.

His face and armour were covered in gore and viscera, and he had a maniacal look on his face that broke him out of his trance. He allowed the crude axe he had claimed to fall from his grasp and looked down at his hands. They too were slick with the foul black blood of his enemies. Could this be what he was? A blood thirsty butcher? For some reason, that prospect turned his stomach.

He heard a gasp from behind him and turned around. Standing further down the hallway was a pair of greenskins. One of them let out a high pitched shriek and was about to charge until its companion grabbed it by the shoulder and shouted at it in their foul, incomprehensible language. The creature saw its slaughtered kin and its eyes widened. A heartbeat later, both creatures turned around and took to their heels.

The warrior’s first impulse was to pursue them and slaughter them like the vermin they were, but he held himself back. This was not who he was… or if it was, it was not who he wanted to be. These creatures, whatever they were, no longer posed a threat to him, and with luck, if he kept up with them, they would lead him to a way out of this lair.

As he set off after the fleeing greenskins, he came across a battered mace and paused. He was afraid of what he had become when he slaughtered those creatures, but at the same time realized that they had attacked him first. It would be foolish to blunder through their lair unarmed. Reluctantly he picked the weapon up and continued after the fleeing pair.

The lair appeared to have once been a crypt before the greenskins moved in. Smashed and defaced sarcophagi lined the alcoves on either side of the underground passageways. Several times, the passageway branched off, but the warrior was able to keep track of his quarry using their panicked footsteps.

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The passageway grew steeper as he pursued the greenskins deeper into their lair until he came across a flight of spiral stone stairs. A small window had been carved out of the wall nearby, offering a view of the forest. He could see the cave mouth and waterfall from before and saw that a large, bearded face had been carved around it in such a way that it looked like it was spitting water from its mouth.

He heard the creatures shriek followed by the sound of metal clattering against stone further down the stairs, and the man frowned before descending after them and soon found them entangled with one another on a landing further down. One of them had a broken neck, and the other had its leg bent the wrong way at its knee and was struggling to free itself from under its dead companion’s body.

The creature hissed and spat as the warrior approached. It was obviously in distress, and the warrior couldn’t help but feel sorry to see it in such a state. It would not be able to climb up or down the stairs in its state and its option was a slow death from either starvation or dehydration. The creature whimpered and raised its arms in a feeble attempt to protect itself. The warrior gently pushed its arms aside and brought his mace down on its head, giving it a quick death. Unlike before, the warrior derived no satisfaction from taking this life. It was an act of mercy.

He took a deep breath before looking over the side of the stairs. There was still a long way down to ground level, and now he had no guides. As he walked down the stairs, he found it strange that despite the day’s ordeals, he was not out of breath. But why did he find that strange? He felt his frustrations mount as he attempted to make sense of it. His knowledge of the world and of himself was patchy at best, but he knew one thing. The prospect of the rage fuelled berserker he had become back in the dining room being who he truly was scared him.

The warrior lost himself in his thoughts and was unsure of how much time had passed when the stairs led him down into the ruins of what was once a small chapel. Decayed wooden pews were arrayed before a crumbling statue of a deity he did not recognize. The statue had been defaced, probably by the greenskinned creatures he had slain. He looked out of a smashed window and saw that he was at ground level.

He walked through a set of shattered doors and found himself on the shores of the lake. The light was beginning to dim, and the man frowned at the cavern’s ceiling. He could tell it wasn’t right but didn’t understand why. He ground his teeth and tried to scratch an itch at his back before quickly realizing what a futile gesture it was while he was clad in armour.

The itching grew worse, and he realized that it was because of all the gore he was caked in. He looked at the lake’s crystal blue waters and hesitated when he was reminded of his ordeal up in the cavern. His plan was to make for the village he’d seen earlier. Perhaps there was someone there who could tell him something… anything… and if there was, they were unlikely to receive him kindly looking and smelling as he did. There was no other choice. It was time for a bath.

As he worked the straps, the warrior began to remember how to take his armour off. First, the gauntlets came off, revealing a pair of meaty, calloused hands. With his hands free, he was able to remove the rest of his armour quickly, discovering he wore a simple tunic and trousers underneath it all. He stripped that off as well and frowned when he realized he had no inkling of how to wash any of it. Perhaps soaking the lot in water would do the trick.

Stripped bare, he stood in the waist deep water and took a moment to look at his reflection. A grizzled face stared back at him. His body was muscular and covered in scars, but the sight of it stirred no memories. Disappointed, he turned his attention to his armour. The lake’s waters washed blood off steel easily enough, but his clothes proved a more difficult challenge. He laid the various pieces out to dry on the grass by the lake while he figured out how to clean his blood soaked garments. While he was experimenting, he heard rustling from the trees nearby. Moments later, a great black shape burst from the trees and charged towards his armour.

The warrior left his clothes in the water and charged to intercept the newcomer. The reptilian creature measured almost ten feet long from its squat snout to the tip of its thick, powerful tail and crawled on the ground on eight squat, powerful legs. Its body was covered in thick blue scales and topped with brown spikes.

“Get away from that!” the warrior roared as the beast sniffed his armour.

The creature turned to look at him with its two deep azure eyes. The warrior met its gaze without fear, cursing himself for not at least keeping his weapon with him. No matter, he would pulverize this strange beast with his bare hands if he had to.

A bright light flashed from the beast’s eyes, and the warrior found himself unable to move. The beast licked its lips and slowly scuttled over to the warrior and sniffed him cautiously. Satisfied, it flicked its long, serpentine tongue from its mouth that was filled with jagged, needle like teeth and licked him across the face.

Using all his concentration, the man managed to move his arm ever so slightly. The creature snorted in alarm and leapt back. It bared its teeth and snarled, but the warrior was still frozen in place. Deciding it was time to stop playing with its food, the creature lunged at the warrior.

As it was about to clamp its teeth around the warrior’s neck, an arrow flew out of the forest. It bounced harmlessly off the creature’s armoured back, but it was enough to make it stop its killing blow and whirl around to face the new threat.

The beast howled, and something hard struck the warrior in the face. The warrior raised a hand to touch his cheek and saw that the projectile had drawn blood. Then, he realized he could move and knew what he had to do. He lunged for the beast from behind and managed to slip his forearm under its head, locking its thick, muscular neck under his elbow and used his other hand to lock it in place.

The creature thrashed around as it let out a surprised yelp. It was strong, but the warrior held fast. He tightened his grip around its neck in an attempt to choke the life out of it, but the creature showed no sign of weakening.

“Expose its neck!” a man’s voice shouted from the bushes.

The warrior gritted his teeth and adjusted his grip so that his arm was now under the creature’s jaw. The muscles in his back strained as he pulled back with all his might, exposing the beast’s neck. The beast shuddered as an arrow pierced the think scales around its throat before going limp. The warrior clung on for a moment later and when he was sure the creature was dead, he let it slip from his grasp and turned to face the direction from where the arrow flew.

“Thank you,” he called out but was greeted with silence.

The warrior frowned and bent over to pick up his weapon. Then, he became aware of someone to his side and whirled around to see a ragged man with greying hair training a bow on him. An arrow was nocked, and the bowstring was pulled back as far as it could go.

“Don’t move,” the man warned.