The air grows colder as you and your party creep through the dungeon, the flickering torchlight casting uneasy shadows.

"I don’t like this place," Fae whispers, her elven eyes glowing faintly as she grips her staff.

"Relax, Fae," Melisandre smirks, her wolf ears twitching. "We’ve seen worse." She strides ahead, her fists ready for a fight.

"Too cocky," Skadi mutters from the shadows. "That’s how you end up dead."

Godwin, the dwarf cleric, huffs. "Let’s not test that theory."

Asleif, the barbarian, laughs, hefting her axe. "Trouble’s what we’re here for, eh Cain?" But the berserker, ever brooding, says nothing.

Suddenly, the floor collapses beneath Fae. Her scream cuts short with a sickening thud.

"Fae!" you shout, but before you can react, a monstrous ogre bursts from the shadows, its roar deafening. Cain rushes it head-on, but the ogre's club slams him into the wall, leaving him crumpled in a heap. Melisandre moves to strike, but the ogre's hand swats her aside, and she crashes into the stone, her leg twisted.

A chest behind Skadi snaps open—it’s a mimic. “Trap!” she yells, but the mimic’s jaws close around her arm, pulling her in. Godwin stumbles back, too shaken to act, muttering prayers.

"Asleif, stop it!" you cry as the barbarian charges the ogre. She lands a blow, but the ogre retaliates, clubbing her to the ground in a shower of blood.

You're surrounded—ogre ahead, mimic behind, and the skittering of unseen beasts growing closer. Your party is falling, and you are cornered. There's nowhere left to go.