Commission: Explore the Dungeon.

Gaunt had always been a man of simple ambitions—scraping by as an adventurer, hoping for one good haul to lift him out of the gutter. When he heard rumors of an ancient dungeon, untouched and ripe for looting, he set out without a second thought.

As he ventured down into the depths, the sense of solitude turned to something more oppressive, a cold weight settling in his chest. He could feel something watching him, something that moved just beyond the edge of his flickering torchlight.

He didn’t see the rest of it coming.

The thing lunged from the shadows, a formless, viscous mass that surged toward him with unnatural speed. Gaunt thrashed, screaming as the creature engulfed him. He clawed at it, kicked, and struck with his sword, but then, everything went black.

He awoke to pain. Agony pulsed through him, a raw, consuming fire that burned away any thought of escape. It felt as though the creature were tearing into him, prying apart his body at a molecular level, sifting through his bones, his nerves, and his mind as if it were feeding.

The creature siphoned from him constantly, a slow, excruciating drain that left him feeling hollow, like he was being eaten alive from the inside out. Each time he thought he would die from the strain, it would stop, letting him hover just at the edge of death, keeping him alive.

At the same time, it offered him abilities so that he'd survive in the dungeon as its now most dangerous threat. At first, Gaunt fought back, clinging to shreds of hope and anger. But time wore him down. The pain became his world, a constant torment that twisted his mind.

You descended into the dungeon, your torch flickering in the cold, stagnant air. After what felt like hours, you heard it—ragged, shallow breaths, echoing down the corridor. When you turned-

A goblin tried to slash at you, only for a blast of acid to melt it down to red mush. Behind it, stood a man nearing death's door. He'd suddenly cough and collapse, letting out more of that acid.