text: [Themes: grimdark fantasy, zombie]
  
  You lie among the corpses for what seems like an eternity. The smell is the worst thing you've ever smelled, but the knowledge that it's dead bodies moving against you is terrifying. Still, you know that the idea of the undead monsters yanking you from the pile and tearing you apart is even scarier, so you stay silent.
  
  You have no idea how long you spend in the cart. How many hours? Hell, it could be over a day by now. Eventually, the cart stops. You hear growls outside, before a shout.
  
  "How many?" a young man's voice cries.
  
  "Twenty-seven. Thirteen Orcs, thirteen Men, one Dwarf."
  
  "A dwarf? I wonder what that small little bastard was doing in that region. Ah, who cares. Prepare them."
  
  You hear zombies yank corpses from the cart. One of them pulls Bagig off you and you close your eyes and go limp. The zombie yanks you forward, and quite gently lays you on the ground. You open your eyes slightly, to see you're being laid out in rows. You're in the courtyard of what appears to be a massive castle made from black stone. You're surrounded by undead monsters, with one exception: A human, wearing hooded black robes, holding a steel sword. His face is paler than bone, and his angular facial features tells you there's probably some High Elf lineage in him. His black hair is slicked back undead his hood, and he eagerly looks at the corpses like a warrior among battle. An undead knight who had been leading the pack rides forward, looking at the man.
  
  "Are you raising them, or is the Grand Necromancer?"
  
  The Grand Necromancer. Papa's told you about him. A cowardly mage who uses raises the dead to fight for him. You know he has some lesser Necromancers, which probably included the robed man.
  
  "No, I shall raise them today."
  
  The Necromancer turns and raises his hands.
  
  "Rise, Minions! The Grim Reaper shall not take you today! Shrug off the eternal sleep and wake!" he laughs.
  
  His eyes turn black as his pupils consume his irises and corneas. A faint blackness appears to flow from his fingertips outwards, enrapturing the corpses. The corpses begin to shudder as the black, magical energy floods into them. Then, the dead begin to rise. Slowly, the corpses begin to stand, their eyes still as soulless as before. The Necromancer pauses, spotting you. You attempt to stand slowly, like the newly created zombies, but stumble and fall flat again.
  
  "Ah, someone from the land of the living is here! Hello!"
  
  Cold hands grab you, and you are yanked up. You crane your neck to see Bagig, holding you in his rotting hands. No, Bagig is dead. Bagig was loving, friendly, funny and kind. This... abomination, has black, soulless eyes. You draw your blade and sink it into the side of his head. Bagig's corpse releases you, and falls to the ground. Bagig has always loved you. His body deserves to rest.
  
  "Ah, a fighter!" the Necromancer laughs.
  
  Rotting hands grab you, and the knife is ripped from your hands. You see several Orcs, seemingly alive, approach.
  
  "What's the issue, Trant?" one of them growls.
  
  "My title is Necromancer Trant, servant of the Grand Necromancer. I will not be addressed as simply "Trant" by some lowly mercenary!"
  
  "Don't make me ask again, Trant!"
  
  "There's a survivor."
  
  The Orc, apparently the leader of a band of mercenaries, looks at you, and you get a good luck at him. He's quite a fair bit taller than Bagig was, although his body is covered with scars. Several scars run across his face, including one that's taken out his eye, leaving a disgusting hole in his face.
  
  "He's just a boy. I doubt he's been on his first hunt yet."
  
  "Well, he should be dead," Necromancer Trant says angrily.
  
  "I ain't killing him..."
  
  You breath a sigh of relief.
  
  "... for normal pay. Five times if you want me to kill a kid."
  
  "Fine. I'll pay out of pocket. I don't want to... bother the Grand Necromancer with this."
  
  "Ha! Hiding something from the Master of Death? Alright then, it's your head," the Mercenary Leader says.
  
  You're dropped by the undead, and the Mercenary Leader quickly kicks you in the chest, knocking you backwards. You fall on the ground, and he grabs your arms. You watch with terror as a chopping block is brought out. One of the Orcs binds your hands with ropes, tightening them behind your back. You're shoved to your knees, and the chopping block is dropped in front of you. Your neck is forced to the chopping block. A bucket is shoved in front of you, no doubt for your head to fall into. The Mercenary Leader is handed a massive battleaxe.
  
  "Don't worry, kid. I'll make it quick. I'm good with an axe. I've filled that bucket many a time."
  
  > curse the Mercenary Leader out
  "It'll be filled just like your mother was filled hundreds of times, you fucking scum!" you shout, struggling to think of every bad word you've been taught.
  
  Thankfully, many, many, many hours spent listening to Papa, Bagig, Mazkil, Gruzub and even sometimes Mama swear has given you a lot of material.
  
  "You're the product of a whore!" you yell.
  
  "Ha! This one's got balls!" the Mercenary Leader laughs.
  
  "Unlike you, you unloved, honor less eunuch! The fires of hell take you! I hope Demons rape your soul and... and... your mother's a whore, who..."
  
  "Aw, he ran out of insults. Alright, kid. Let's get this over with."
  
  The Orc raises his blade.
  
  "STOP!" a young, shrill voice cries.
  
  The Orc pauses, turning to look.
  
  "Ah, fuck," he sighs.
  
  You turn to see two humans approaching. The one in the lead is a tall, pale figure wearing hooded black robes with silver trim with short black hair. His face is gaunt and his eyes are sunken into his face, giving him the appearance of a skull. He is followed by a small girl, who looks to be only your age, wearing a dark red dress with flowing blond hair. She's considerably less pale than the man, and has bright green eyes. She looks worried at the sight of the execution, and she very well might've just saved your life.
  
  "What the fuck is this?" the tall man asks angrily.
  
  "Nothing, Grand Necromancer."
  
  "Nothing? This doesn't look like nothing, Balok the Honorless!"
  
  "It's an execution, sir. Nothing out of the ordinary."
  
  The Grand Necromancer grabs you, yanking you up.
  
  "How old would you say this kid is?" he asks.
  
  "I don't know, sir."
  
  "Blaise, why did you scream?" the Grand Necromancer asks.
  
  "Because you only kill bad people, and he's too young to be bad," the girl says, looking worried.
  
  "Are you paid to kill kids, Balok?" the Grand Necromancer asks.
  
  "Yes, sir. Well, not kids specifically, but my job is to kill whoever..."
  
  The Grand Necromancer, despite being quite short, swings his fist, punching the Mercenary Leader.
  
  "If you pull this shit again, I'll torture you to death, and then do it again!" the Grand Necromancer says.
  
  "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," the Orc apologizes.
  
  The Grand Necromancer looks at you, before looking at the girl.
  
  "Cut the boy loose, have his wounds dressed and have him cleaned and clothed."
  
  "Then what?" the Orc asks.
  
  "Have him brought to my quarters."
  
  The Orc nods. The Necromancer looks at you.
  
  "What's your name, boy?"
  
  "Dagden."
  
  "It's alright, Dagden. I promise you won't be harmed. I have problems to deal with, Balok. Don't cause more of them."
  
  He turns, and strolls off. The girl stays behind for a few seconds, staring at you. Finally, she turns and quickly follows the Grand Necromancer.
  
  "Well, fuck me," Balok sighs, cutting you loose. "Come on, you little prick. I gotta follow the "Master of Death"'s orders. And way to stand up for me, Trant. Fuck you, you fuckin' corpse-fucker."
  
  Trant smiles and gives Balok the finger. Balok swears and begins dragging you toward the building he came out from.
  
  > Continue
  You're thrown onto a bed in what appears to be a Medic's room. A small Orc enters, narrowing her eyes.
  
  "You're the kid, are you? Made Balok look like a right moron, you did."
  
  She sits down on a stool next to you. She begins to stitch your cuts on your chest from the bear closed. You wince, and she grabs a red vial from her leather bag.
  
  "Here. Drink. Every last drop. Lick it clean if you must."
  
  You open the cork, and drink. You swallow the sweet mixture. You assume it's some healing potion, because your pain lessens and strength courses through you. You feel much better now.
  
  "So, where you from, boy?" the Medic asks.
  
  > Answer
  "I'm a Red Blade."
  
  "Ah! I was sweet on a Red Blade once. Ended up beating him half to death when he tried to have his way with me on a drunken night. Jakku Smallcock, he was. Or at least, that title is more fitting," she smiles.
  
  You nod, and she quickly patches you up.
  
  "No strenuous exercise, you don't want the stitching to tear. Alright, head off to the bathrooms now the hall. Balok said to have you washed."
  
  You leave the Medic's Room and find yourself in a stone hallway. Down the hall you can see the, though there is a path left.
  
  > go wash up
  You walk into the bathrooms, and find a bath waiting for you. You touch the water. It's quite hot, to your surprise. Your baths have always been in the cold river, or sometimes if you're lucky been in a basin slowly pouring a bucket of hot water on yourself. This entire bath is hot. You remove your clothes, and lower yourself into the water. The heat envelops you, and you let out a sigh of relief.
  
  "Ah... good," you say to yourself.
  
  You begin to scrub your skin, rubbing away mud, dirt and blood. Layers of dirt that you had assumed were skin are wash off, and you're left cleaner than you've ever been in your entire existence. It's unnerving to be this green. The door opens, and your hands immediately move to cover your genitals. An undead Dwarf walks in, dropping clothes in front of you, before picking up your old clothes. The Dwarf has long, braided brown hair and a combed beard, although his skin is cracked and broken and peeling away to reveal flesh as some point. His teeth have almost all rotted, and a spear wound has destroyed much of his throat.
  
  "Hello. I'm here to give you new clothes and take away your old," he rasps.
  
  "You're not supposed to talk. The dead don't talk."
  
  "Orcs aren't supposed to be clean."
  
  "What are you?"
  
  "A Wight."
  
  You nod, despite not having a clue what that entails. The Wight turns, and walks out the door. You stand and find come clean rags laid out to wipe yourself dry. When you're finished, you get dressed in the trousers, shirt, belt and polished boots. You look at your reflection in the water.
  
  You look like a ponce.
  
  "If Gruzub, Mazkil or Bagig saw me they'd..." you pause, tears welling up in your eyes.
  
  You grab the rags, and dry your eyes again, as the door is opened again. The Wight stands there.
  
  "I'm to escort you to the Grand Necromancer."
  
  You nod, and follow the Wight out of the bathroom, and follow him along the halls. You spot various Orc, Elf, Human and Dwarven Mercenaries, as well as countless undead. You shiver as you pass them. You're eventually led to a pair of double doors.
  
  "Through there," the Wight says.
  
  > go through the doors
  You push through the double doors, and find yourself in a large room. A massive feasting table stands in front of you, covered in food. Your stomach grumbles as you realize you haven't eaten in quite some time, and your mouth waters as you look upon roasted chicken, baked loaves of bread, turkey legs, roasted boar and even more food. You see the Grand Necromancer sitting at the head of the table, wearing his black robes with the silver trim, although his hood is pulled down. Sitting next to him is the young child from earlier. About a dozen black robed Necromancers sit at the table, as well as several Mercenary Captains. Standing guard are dozens of undead knights, who stare at you with their cold eyes. The Grand Necromancer looks up at you and smiles.
  
  "Ah! Our guest is here, young Mr Dagden. Please, take a seat at my side."
  
  You can tell by the cold, emotionless staring of the guards that declining this offer would be a bad move. You nod, and walk past the necromancers. You spot Trant among them, who winks at you. You make a silent promise to yourself that you're going to kill him. You take a seat next to the Grand Necromancer, directly across from the girl. The Grand Necromancer smiles at you, a charming smile from a horrible monster of a man.
  
  "I'm sorry about the recent unpleasantness, Dagden. I sent my soldiers to wipe out bandits and thugs and retrieve their corpses to add to my forces. I'm so sorry that you and your brother got confused with them."
  
  You don't look at the Grand Necromancer, out of disgust and hatred. You grab a turkey leg, and eagerly begin chewing into it. You realize just how starved you are as begin to wolf down your meal.
  
  "Hungry little one, aren't you? I bet you've never eaten a meal this big, coming from a tribal village."
  
  "I bet you didn't catch a single thing on this table yourself, and got stronger men to do it," you retort.
  
  The Necromancer laughs.
  
  "It tastes better that way, I would imagine. I admit, I don't catch my own food. I'm not a strong person. My brothers were the strong ones. They wanted to be warriors. I wanted to be a scholar, but after I began to research magic, I decided to become a mage. I quickly specialized in Necromancy. It has a terrible reputation like all other forms of Black Magic, but I've never understood it. Necromancy, Blood Magic, Creating Life, Elemental Darkness, Demon Summoning, Demon Bonding, deals with demons... Anything with demons, really, all hated by fools and morons. We hate Blood Magic because we can't seem to comprehend a need for sacrifice, we hate creating life because we seem to think that's the place of the Gods who barely exist and never help us "foolish mortals", we hate Elemental Darkness because the dumbest part of our brain is scared of what we can't see, we hate dealing with demons because we're too scared about our ability to keep control over them, and most importantly, we hate Necromancy because we have respect for corpses because of what they once were and fear the dead. It's pathetic. Do you know the amount of good Necromancy could do? Imagine cities defended by armies of undead, so hunting bandits and defending from enemies will no longer risk any lives. Do you see why my work is important?"
  
  > say "Yes."
  "Good! It's important to learn these things! I'm glad you can be so understanding at such a young age. My daughter, Blaise, is also quite understanding. I don't know if I've introduced you."
  
  You look over at the girl, who stares at you with wide curious eyes.
  
  "She's the splitting image of her mother. She..."
  
  "When can I go home?" you ask abruptly, causing the Grand Necromancer to frown.
  
  "Ah... about that... You realize you've already seen so much... You've seen the extent of my operations, you know my plans to expand my army, my use of other Necromancers, my use of mercenaries, my base of operations... I think it would be wise if you stay here, as our guest, for some time."
  
  You stare into the eyes of the Grand Necromancer. You can feel him peering into your soul. You refuse to break gaze. He sighs.
  
  "I'm sorry to have to keep you here. I can promise you'll be treated well."
  
  You can continue staring at the Grand Necromancer, which seems to unnerve him. You feel some joy at doing so, but stop yourself from smiling.
  
  "Blaise, why don't you show our new guest your room? I'm sure you have loads of toys to show him. I have business to discuss."
  
  Blaise nods, and stands up from the table. You stand, and she walks over and grabs your hand.
  
  "Come on. I'll show you my room," she says.
  
  She begins dragging you to a small door at the back of the room, and opens it. You find yourself in a large bedroom, bigger than Papa's. There's a large double canopy bed, a wardrobe, a bookshelf, two chest of drawers and several toys lying around the room.
  
  "Usually, Dad doesn't bring many guests here, and never ever anyone my age. My name's Blaise. What's yours?"
  
  "Dagden. My friends call me Dag."
  
  "Pleased to meet you, Dag. I'm Blaise. I have loads of toys, but I also have other stuff. I have a pet..."
  
  You stare into her eyes, and feel hatred. She's the most important thing to the Grand Necromancer, the man who took your brother. You're far enough from the main room. You could very, very easily get your revenge and hurt the Necromancer just like he hurt you.
  
  > continue listening to her
  No, she's done nothing to you. She's just a little kid in a situation you didn't choose, just like you.
  
  "...dog, named Stitches."
  
  "Stitches?" you say, raising an eyebrow.
  
  "He was attacked by an assassin, an Orc trying to kill my dad. My dad brought him back so I could keep him. Stitches! Come here, Stitches!"
  
  You here scratching behind you, and turn around. You open your mouth to scream, before remembering what Papa always said.
  
  "When faced with danger, never scream, only roar."
  
  You growl, staring at the abomination. The "dog" is missing patches of its brown fur, and is covered in stitches across it's body and legs. It's missing almost all the flesh from one of its back legs and its lower jaw. The Dog quickly walks forward, and Blaise begins stroking its back. You extend a hand forward and begin stroking its head. It extends a liver-colored tongue and licks your hand and you recoil in disgust. Stitches whimpers, and you start stroking its head again. It barks happily, and you begin to rub it's belly. You've always wanted a dog, although you wanted one with a bit more life in it than this one. You can't tell whether you should hug or strangle the dog, but you know you really, really want to do one of them.
  
  "Do you like him?" Blaise asks, looking up at you.
  
  > say "Yes."
  She smiles at you, and continues rubbing Stitches.
  
  "He's really... cute," you say, struggling for words.
  
  The girl looks up at you, raising an eyebrow.
  
  "Do you want to go hear what they're saying?" she asks.
  
  "Who?"
  
  "My Dad and the other Necromancers."
  
  "How?"
  
  "I know about a hidden room where you can eavesdrop. I don't know what it was for, but I like to go there sometimes when I don't want to be found. Do you want to see it?"
  
  You nod eagerly, and she goes over to her wardrobe. She opens it, and reaches a hand in to root around the dresses, blouses and skirts, before pulling out a small, unassuming silver key.
  
  "Come on, follow me," she says, turning and walking over to the side of the room.
  
  She begins putting all her weight against the bookshelf. It moves slightly, revealing a small wooden door hidden behind it.
  
  "It's a pretty obvious place to put a hidden door. I don't think this castle's architect was very clever."
  
  She unlocks and opens the door. The room inside is a small room with a small table and four chairs, another bookshelf, a large bed and a chest.
  
  "If you put your head up against the wall, you can here what's inside."
  
  You lean against the far wall, putting your ear against it.
  
  "...allow us to have more control over the mountain range. We send teams into the mines and mountains to force the Dwarves back, and allow us to conquer the tombs. With the tombs in our hands, the whole continent will fall," the Grand Necromancer says.
  
  "I'll lead the raids. The Dwarf Clans have survived untouched by war for far too long. I think my knowledge of battle tactics..." an Unknown voice cries.
  
  "Ha! Galmead, please don't pretend it's anything other than vengeance that makes you want to lead the assault. Still, you've served me well over the years. You can lead the assault."
  
  "Thank you, Grand Necromancer."
  
  "Of course. Now Thonir, fetch the Orc child and find a room for him. Make sure the door's locked and there's extra guards on. I don't want him escaping."
  
  Blaise pulls her head back from the door.
  
  "We should get out of here," she says.
  
  You both quickly rush out of the room, with Blaise locking it behind you. You push the bookshelf closed, before you hear a short rapping on the door. Blaise opens it, and you're faced with the Dwarven Wight from earlier.
  
  "Lady Blaise, Dagden. I'm here to escort you to your new private chambers, Dagden."
  
  "OK," you reply.
  
  "Bye, Dag."
  
  "Bye, Blaise."
  
  The Wight begins leading you down a hallway.
  
  "My name is Thonir. I am to look after you during your stay."
  
  "If you need anything, simply ask and I shall do my best to help to the extent I can. Of course, if I think the request compromises the... security of you or anyone else here, I shall not grant it."
  
  You nod, looking up at him. His rotting face stares blankly on, before he stops in front of a large oak door. He opens it, and you walk inside. There's a small room with a seat with a hole in the floor that you presume is a bathroom, a basin filled with water, a small bed, a wardrobe, a dresser, a bookshelf and a table and chair. There's also a massive bear skull mounted on the wall, which you think looks cool.
  
  "This shall be your quarters for the duration of your stay. I shall guard the door for the night. Knock on the door if you need anything."
  
  With that, Thorin closes the door. You can hear the clunking of the locking mechanism, and then silence. You look around. There's a book lying on the table that might be of some interest, and there's also the bed, which after such a long day looks quite appealing.
  
  > investigate the book
  You walk over to the book, and pick it up. A golden star takes up most of the cover. Its title, "Magic", takes up the rest of the cover.
  
  "Well, that's obvious," you say.
  
  You open it and start reading. You struggle considerably with the massive words, but of the many perks of being the son of the Chieftain, being taught the ability to read, quite well, actually, is your favorite. Papa would spit on Elven tomes, but you're able to speak, write and read common tongue well enough. It opens with various entries about the types of magic users. You start reading.
  
  Conjurers
  
  Conjurers are Magic Users who specialize in Conjuration. They can conjure swords, knives, spears, axes, compasses, food, water and many other objects from other planes.
  
  Demon Dealers
  
  Demon Dealers are Magic users who specialize in dealing with demons. They can summon demons, bind them, make deals and much more.
  
  Necromancers
  
  Necromancers are Magic Users who specialize in Necromancy. They raise the dead and talk with spirits.
  
  Warlocks
  
  Warlocks are Magic Users who study destructive magic, such as fire and ice based magic, so they can become warlords and wage war against their enemies.
  
  Alchemists
  
  Alchemists are Magic Users who study Alchemy. They use science and reason to study the creation of gold from lesser metals and the making of potions, elixirs and mixtures, especially in regard to immortality.
  
  Enchanters
  
  Enchanters are Magic Users who study enchanting. They can imbue objects such as weapons or armor with magical properties.
  
  Healers
  
  Healers are Magic Users who study Healing. They can undue wounds and heal illnesses and plagues from people and animals.
  
  You flick through the rest of the book, but it seems to go into much, much more detail. You're struggling to read the basic start, there's no way you can read more. You put down the book.
  
  > go to sleep
  You go over to the bed, and lie down on it. You live in bed for several minutes, trying to fall asleep. Eventually, you manage to reach a state that's neither fully awake nor fully asleep. You're broken out of this state by a light tapping. You stand up, raising an eye as you search for the sound of the noise. You find it in the bookcase. You move around to push the bookcase slightly out of the way, noticing a small door behind the bookcase, similar to the one Blaise showed you. You try the handle. You grin as the door handle clicks open and the door swings ajar. Inside is a small, black tunnel covered in cobwebs. Standing in the middle is Blaise.
  
  "Hello," she smiles.
  
  "Hey," you respond. "What are you doing here?"
  
  "There's loads of tunnels stretching from the hidden room I showed you to all around the castle."
  
  "So why'd you come find me?" you ask.
  
  Blaise shrugs.
  
  "I don't know. I guess you're the only person I really have to show this kinda stuff to."
  
  "OK," you nod.
  
  "Well... What do you want to do?" Blaise asks. "I could show you the gardens, or the..."
  
  You mind perks as you have an idea.
  
  > say "Can you help me escape?"
  Blaise looks uncertain and nervous, but nods.
  
  "I think so."
  
  "How?"
  
  "There's a tunnel that leads down to the stables. Down there there's a trading cart that goes between the nearby towns and the Castle. They brought fresh fruit today, so they're probably still down there."
  
  You nod.
  
  "OK. Show me the way."
  
  Blaise turns and leads you into another hallway. You struggle to see through the darkness, and knock into a stone wall. You groan in pain, and Blaise giggles.
  
  "It's not funny. If I had my dagger, I'd gut you," you moan.
  
  "It is funny. You have a dagger?" Blaise giggles.
  
  "Had."
  
  "Oh. My Dad doesn't let me have weapons."
  
  Blaise leans over and grabs your hand. Despite the fact that it's incredibly hard to see for you so her holding of your hand is incredibly rational, you still blush and feel embarrassed as her small warm hand grips your fingers. She pulls you along the dark corridors, until she stops suddenly. You knock into her, and end up sprawled out on the floor.
  
  "Sorry," you grunt, standing up.
  
  You extend a hand and pull her up.
  
  "Thanks," Blaise says. "It's just down this hallway."
  
  You nod, and quickly follow her down another hallway branching off to the side. Eventually, you come across another door. Blaise takes out her key and quietly unlocks the door. She slowly opens it, revealing a large stables. You step out, noticing that the door is hidden into the wall. In the stables are three old wooden carts that sit unused, as well as several tied up horses.
  
  "Why would someone need so many tunnels?" you ask.
  
  "Sssh! There's always guards on duty," Blaise whispers.
  
  Blaise looks around, before frowning.
  
  "It's not here!" she whispers loudly.
  
  "What?"
  
  "The trader's cart! It's not here!"
  
  "What's the plan, then?"
  
  Blaise looks around.
  
  "I don't know... you could hide in the hay cart. They take out the dirty hay in them. Or... you could steal one of the horses."
  
  > hide in the hay cart
  "I'll hide in the hay cart," you say. "Give me a boost."
  
  Blaise nods, and offers her hands out. You put your foot in her hands, and she boosts you up. You land in the soft hay, brushing it off you.
  
  "Thanks," you grunt.
  
  "I guess we won't see each other again," Blaise says.
  
  "I guess."
  
  "Well, I'll miss you. It was fun having a friend while it lasted."
  
  "I'll miss you too."
  
  "Well, I..." she begins, before stopping and craning her head.
  
  "We're late. Get the horses ready," a voice cries.
  
  "You should hide," Blaise says.
  
  You nod.
  
  "Thanks," you say.
  
  You squirm down into the hay, hiding under the pile of hay. You find your way to the bottom of the hay, and curl up into a ball. After a few minutes, you feel the wheels begin to turn as the cart is pulled from its stationary position.
  
  "Wait," the Voice says. "We have to check the hay."
  
  You freeze, staying as still as you can. A few seconds later, you feel an incredible pain as a pitchfork goes through your back, impaling you. You let out a scream as your tiny body is impaled by the cart's driver.
  
  > Death
  Eternal Sleep
  
  Your life force is taken from you as you enter the endless sleep of death.