The pain that coursed through Kurtz the second time felt even more intense than the first, he felt as if the very life was being sucked out of him, and the agony that followed the end was worse still. Smoke of black and green coursed through his right arm as he pulled it back, with waves of pain so intense that he could cry out. After a few seconds, a dark shape appeared in the rock wall, only visible against the black in the light of the torch. Kurtz didn’t see the doorway form, for his gaze was locked in horror as he wordlessly watch his hand blacked, and his entire arm crumble into ash.

“You were right Mardu, the entrance was boobytrapped. Magic by the looks of it. Grab the boy, he’ll be useful if there anymore nasty surprises down in the crypt.” The tall man said the short stocky man with the axe. The squat one went over to Kurtz, and prodded him from the terror he witnessed, using the spike of his axe to push him forward, cradling the stump of his arm the entire time. The hallway they entered was every bit black as the outside, with long connected lines carved in them. The hall was wide enough that all of them could walk it abreast, seeming to walk as a downwards angle. The other two lite torches of their own, giving each the ability to spot any danger before if came, always with poor Kurtz leading the front, never with the benefit of torchlight of his own.

The band descended for what seemed an eternity, with the stable boy too deep in shock to notice much of where he was heading. The pain from the burn having subsided before the tears did, Kurtz walked forward, afraid of how this journey would end. Eventually, the party made it to a room that did not match the rest of the stone, being made of a tan sandstone with carvings and pictures. The thin man walked up to the pictures and held his torch aloft for a time, his mouth moving as if reading aloud, though no sound came from him.

He moved to a section of the wall that held pictures of a sun with a stylized skull in the center, over fields of withered grain and trees. “This here seems to be about the Bleak Harvest, the wheat is a metaphor for…well, you know what He did.” Quickly he moved to a spot with a large building, where a man with a skull for a face held a circle high overhead, as several hooded figures stood beneath him watching. “And here’s the Broken Ritual, we’re getting closer…”

Lastly he moved to the far wall, where a scene depicting a Spider, Lizard, Rat, Snake, Bat, Frog and Lion stood over a building containing the Skull-faced man lying down. “AH! Here we go, the Construction of the Living Tomb. His Disciples entombed Him after betraying him during the Ritual. The Key should be here somewhere.” The Thin Man said excitedly.

Eventually, the man cried out, finding the picture he was looking for. “Bring the boy here! It’s this one!” He stood pointing to the picture of the Skull-Faced man. The large man pushed Kurtz hard, grunting his direction. The stable boy turned wide eyed at the large man, clutching his ruined arm pitifully.

“I told you, we spent too long finding this crypt to let some idiot of boy stop us. Do you think I care if you lose an arm or two? After what this trek cost me?! I promise, if you don’t do it, you’ll lose everything! Now get!” The man kicked Kurtz hard, sending him stumbling towards the picture. The thin man grabbed him by the wrist and pushed the picture of the Skull-faced man, causing it to recede into the wall. Just as with the front of the mound, a part of the wall rose up, creating a doorway deeper into the crypt.