Drip. Drop.
Drip. Drop.
That sound filled Garrick Voss's mind, bringing him out of his deep slumber and plunging him into a pool of dread.
His eyes fluttered open, the effects of poison long gone. He looked around, first in confusion and then in terror.
He was in a dimly lit cavern. Water trickled down the stalactites in the distance, creating an eerie music of impending doom.
His body was cold. His hands were fastened above his head. His legs were stretched by ropes. He was pinned naked to the cavern wall.
Voss let out a whimper. Then he screamed. "Help! Help me!"
The sound of footsteps approached from the corner. Adam walked with his hands clasped behind his back, as if he were taking a walk in the park.
"Ah, you're awake," he said with a friendly smile.
"Who are you?!" Voss blurted out.
He was a Templar Paladin, yet the poison had knocked him out cold. What was even more frightening was that he hadn't even sensed the poison at all.
