In a sudden fit of fanatical piety, you decide that – with the light of Zuccax’s eternal wisdom in your heart – you have no need for such feeble mortal accoutrements as candles. After all, it’s just a cellar.
Smiling to yourself, you stride forwards into the penumbra of gloom around the stairs… and promptly trip over a carelessly-placed wellington boot. Stretching your arms out to pull yourself to your feet, you tear the sleeve of your robes on a rusty sawblade resting against a nearby table.
Finally getting to your feet, you reluctantly acknowledge that it would probably be a good idea to look for a light switch. I mean, there’s got to be one here somewhere. Who would build a windowless cellar and forget to install electric lighting?
You turn back towards the stairs, only to hear a quiet rustling sound- followed shortly by the sound of the cellar door slamming shut. The room is plunged into thick ink-black darkness.
Instinctively, you start to slowly walk back towards the stairs. After all, they were only a few feet away from you. But, you’re sure that you’ve already walked more than a few feet. From the look of things, you’re totally and utterly lost.
Still, you know that the stairs have to be here somewhere, so you press on further into the darkness.
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