"Sea god's anal beads," Krysaos cursed. "How many of these gods-damned holes are there?"
He stood at the edge of a pit trap.
A pit trap.
It didn't matter what was at the bottom-- five fulm long spikes or giant eel-things or a faceless monstrosity comprised of more teeth and tentacles than sensible parts.
After so many bells of Dungeon delving, pit traps were... boring.
"...Maybe I should just shut up and be thankful? Maybe. Stupid Dungeon..."
Krysaos took a few steps forward, bounding over with ease.
He landed.
...but he landed in a place devoid of dungeon tile and watery horrors.
"...Okay," He gulped, "So not a pit trap."
Dull grey clouds soared overhead, rushing hurriedly... maybe even like they were scared of something.
Krysaos stood in front of a white picket fence with a solitary stone well beyond-- a place nestled in the hills.
