Glancing back, he considered finishing off the other snoring orcs, though didn't feel any need to, instead crouching beside each of them as he rummaged through their pockets. Most of what he discovered held on the barbarians were chewed bones or ornaments made of the same material that held no value.
Though he wasn't deterred, sifting through the pockets of one of the orcs that had face planted against the tile, finding something solid and smooth in its pocket.
"A-ha," he smiled, already knowing he had found something of worth as he retrieved what had met his grasp.
A silver ring with a dazzling ruby embedded in it, with small inscriptions along its sides; something of unmistakable value. Pocketing his lavish find, he turned his focus to the grand prize of the dungeon, peering at the large chest that sat beside the chieftain's seat.
"...Alright," he mumbled as he crouched in front of the chest, being careful not to touch it before carefully inspecting it.
What he looked for were tripwires, ones set to trigger once the lid of the chest was lifted. It was a common, but deadly trap–one of the primary killers of inexperienced dungeon explorers.
'It's when you're sure you've overcome every obstacle the dungeon had for you, when you're blinded by the excitement of your spoils that your guard is down–that's when things like this get you,' he thought.
Sure enough, he found a thin string attached to the chest, leading down to a piece of fabric, which he lifted to find a lock that kept the sneaky boobystrap in place. He retrieved a thin needle from under his sleeve, sliding it into the keyhole of the lock and maneuvering it around a bit before–click.
The trap was disabled, and with that, he placed his hands upon the heavy lid of the treasure chest with a smile of his own. It was dense, though not enough to stop him from lifting it open as the innards of the chest breathed out dust against him.
'Let's see if that information I bought was worth the silver. It should be in here…' He thought.
Using his hand to wave away the dust, he explored his spoils, finding a handful of silver coins and mediocre, but sellable jewelry. He unbuckled a small, dark-blue bag from his belt, large enough to perhaps store a handful of coins before he stretched it open–whoosh. It expanded into a vast sack seamlessly, large enough to store his entire body with room to spare.
With some haste, he tossed the valuables into the sack before finally, he uncovered something that met his eyes with delight: a pitch-black cowl that looked worn out. Something that seemed hardly worth a single copper, though he grabbed it carefully with both hands as if holding the most precious artifact forged of lavish diamonds.
It was exactly what he was looking for, holding it in front of his eyes as he felt the grainy texture of the rough material against his fingers. The cowl didn't exactly smell fantastic, having been stewing in the chest for who knows how long, unwashed and layered in dust, which he patted off.
'The Cowl of The Dusk Raven. I read about it in the Curio Archive, but I can't believe it's actually still here–good thing I was the first to reach the end of this dungeon,' he thought.
He opted not to place the enigmatic treasure in the sack, tucking it under his hood before he stood up. After clearing the chest out, he pulled the silver strings on each end of the mystical sack, causing it to close up and shrink down to a handheld size once again.
'Alright, time to head out. I've got more than enough–could really go for a bite to eat at this point, really,' he thought, feeling the emptiness of his own stomach after an intense dungeon haul.
It was nothing more than going through the motions for him; leaving the dungeon he had already come in through was simple, now that he had already memorized its layout and oddities into his mind. The chamber with falling tiles would be a near impossible obstacle to backtrack from, seeing as there was no floor left to cover the pit of spikes, though the adolescent explorer simply flung his slime rope back onto the ceiling.
As it anchored itself atop, he jumped off the edge of the floor, swinging over the deadly pit with full trust in the strength of his rope.
'Easy does it,' he thought to himself, using the momentum to land both of his boots right near the edge of the other side.
Even if experience had etched itself into the youthful adventurer, it wasn't as though he could be careless. A single misstep could lead to an untimely departure from the world–that was a lesson he made sure he knew first and foremost, as should everybody else.
Bypassing the arsenal of boobytraps laid out through the grimy corridors, sliding past swinging axes, ducking beneath arrow mechanisms, he found himself once more in the vicinity of the undead that guarded the lair.
He tucked himself by a wall, peeking to the side as he counted even more undead than before–six, seven, eight skeletons in total, he counted for himself. Though it was nothing he hadn't maneuvered past before, he found himself having to promote utmost caution by their numbers.
'If it really came down to it, I could maybe take one or two in a fight, but I want to avoid that. This amount though?...Yeah, I'd be joining their undead ranks pretty quickly. Don't get impatient; this is the final stretch–this is where the dungeon always gets the last laugh on the greedy,' he thought.
As he pressed his body against the corner of the stone wall, he felt his shoulder slip as the brick against it came loose. He felt his own heart skip a beat, attempting to catch the falling slab as it seemed to descend in slow motion.
"--Ah!" He quietly let out in surprise.
Against the brick, his fingertips grazed it before it collided with the ground below, instantly shattering into countless pieces with a jarring sound that echoed through the lifeless chamber. Pebbles scattered, creating even more noise that drew the attention of every lurking skeleton towards his hiding spot.
'Are you kidding me?! This is the worst-of-the-worst! The worst case scenario–shit! That damned cat…She just had to jinx me before I came here, telling me "my devilish luck was bound to meet its counterpart soon enough"--well, looks like it did,' he thought as his blood ran hot through his veins.
The hollow footsteps of the lifeless guardians of the dank lair marched in unison, closing in on his location as a thousand thoughts raced through the young man's mind at the same time. He had been in no shortage of precarious situations during such expeditions, but this time it was different–the armored skeletons were a grade too high for him to confidently face, even individually.
It wasn't as though he came to the dungeon with combat in mind, either, bringing little to no tools to use to ward off the prowling undead. As he patted down his own body, rummaging through his pockets in a hurried fashion, he couldn't find anything he was looking, or hoping, to find, bringing a cold sweat to his skin.
'To hell with my cheap ass! I skimped out on gemstones because I wanted to save some silver this month! Look where that's got me–if I survive this, I'm never cutting corners again on my budget!' He thought.
"Raaah…"
"Uuuuee…"
The murmurs of the suspicious undead echoed through the hall like a howling wind, accompanying the sluggish, uneven footsteps of the foul guardians. At this point, there was no way for him to slip by without being seen, and nowhere to go if he ran in the opposite direction–he had to get past the undead.
A solution popped into his head as his time wore down, though it was a reluctant option, one that he didn't plan on committing to.
'...It's my only out,' he thought.
Reaching into his hood and under his collar, he pulled out the pitch-black cowl, looking at it with a nervousness embedded into his emerald irises.
'I was going to practice using this in the safety of my own home…The negative effects of the cowl can be overwhelming–no, they will be. The book made damn sure whoever read it knew that. I have no choice though–it's either this or I die to these boneheads,' he decided.
Though it was a reckless plan that frightened him, he finally sucked in a large breath into his lungs before pulling the accursed cowl over his head just as the undead turned around the corner.
"Graaa–?"
The steelclad skeleton growled, tilting its head–there was nobody there.
At least, that's how it appeared.
The cornered adventurer hadn't moved an inch, finding himself face-to-face with the undead, staring into its glazed-over, icy eyes, though it stared straight past him.
'It doesn't see me,' he realized, frozen as only the resonance of his own heartbeat filled his ears.
Like a phantom, he had vanished from all sight; even to himself, he couldn't see his own hands nor his feet. It worked; the cowl granted him complete invisibility.
He stayed perfectly still, not even letting a breath escape his lips–not that he could, anyway. It was one of the side effects of the nebulous cowl: while worn, he couldn't inhale or exhale, instead forced to be breathless.
The undead with the horned helmet swayed, glancing around in the invisible adventurer's direction as if still suspicious.
'C'mon. Move. There's nobody here, see? So get a move on, crusty bones!' He pleaded in his mind.
It wasn't just the inability to breathe that made the cowl a dreadful wear; a nausea crept on his body, causing his height to feel as light as a feather and the room around him to subtly spin, causing unwelcome feelings in his stomach.
"Gruuu…"
By some miracle, the dusty skeleton finally turned away, wandering off as the other undead dispersed as well, finding no source of the human intruder.
It was only the first step to safety, however, as now he had the challenge of slipping past the foul defenders of the dungeon. Though he was unseen, it didn't mean he was unheard; he slowly moved himself from his spot around the corner, walking down the corridor with slow, methodical steps.
Beside the bolstered skeletons, he found himself having to move, focusing on moving one foot in front of the other without making a sound.
"...Gruaaa…"
"...Hhrraaa…"
Against his ears, he listened to the all-too-close growls and sighs of the undead. The clunkiness of their armor, loosely fit to their skeletal bodies, jingled with every movement; the erratic way the lurking skeletons moved constantly kept him on guard as he walked directly by a pair of the guards.
'Almost out of here,' he thought.
There was little room for him to walk through, nearly grazing his own arm against one of the bony fiends. He felt his mind and body growing more nauseous by the moment as he quietly moved, feeling as though the floor itself was moving like the waves of an unruly sea.
'...Just a bit more–a little further,' he thought to himself, using every bit of strength to focus.
Each time he lifted his boot further one step, he felt as though he may fall sideways.
Like a constant vibration humming through his head, he could feel the cowl emanating its accursed whispers through him. The chamber he was in was occupied by tables with dusty, cobweb-strung cutlery, giving him even less space to work with as he found himself in the center of the undead guardians.
It was a tough gap before him; two undead stood near tables, leaving only a small space for him to silently move through. He shuffled by, passing by the–
"--Gruuuah?..."
Directly in his face, the foul breath of the animated bones pressed against him. It was cold, like the morning frost, though he kept himself composed as the helmed undead's empty eye sockets stared past him from a breath away.
Just as he got past the fully-clad skeleton, he moved with less caution, having to risk making some noise as he put distance between himself and the undead guards.
'--Gonna pass out. I have to breathe–I have to,' he thought.
The absence of oxygen from his lungs had begun to take full effect as he felt himself beginning to black out, his body growing weaker as the nausea of the accursed cowl only magnified. He raced through the halls, taking sharp turns as he nimbly avoided traps before sprinting up a set of stairs in a narrow passage.
He could see it; the dim exit that he sought. Each step felt like a monumental triumph in itself as his lungs felt as if they were set ablaze; his fingers and toes began to go numb, nearly making him tumble down the stairs he climbed before–
"Fffuuuah!"
As he reached the summit of the stairs and left the reach of the dungeon, stepping into a rocky cavern, he tugged the cowl from his head as his body reappeared. All at once, the ability to breathe returned to him as he gasped like a fish out of water.
He knelt by the dungeon entrance, catching his breath. What laid outside of the stone-brick doorway to the dank lair wasn't the outside world, but a further interior; a moss-layered, uneven region of stone.
"...Encounters like that aren't good for my heart," the young man muttered under his breath as he sat there for a moment.
In his hands, he looked at the cowl. Though it was the only reason he was still in one piece, it was clear to him it wasn't something to be used lightly; the sickening feeling it induced while worn was not something he was excited to revisit.
'A good haul is a good haul, can't complain. Time to head back down, I guess,' he decided.