The only thing heavier than the air in this place is the pack on your back. You haven't eaten in days, and you can't remember when you last saw the sun. You think about your faithful little dog who joined you on your journey to retrieve the Amulet of Yendor.
And you think about how you had to eat his corpse after he was torn apart by orc zombies.
You feel that eating the little dog was a bad idea. And what's worse is that now you get the distinct impression that every creature you see wants to rip your head off.
Your thoughts are interrupted by the cry of a shrieker, a sure sign of impending trouble. With a heavy sigh, you ready your sword.
