I’ve never been to a catacombs before, but I imagined it as some dark, creepy place smelling of death. I’m not disappointed.

As I walk along the low tunnels, gritty sand beneath my boots, the Nightvision spell Gin has cast on me allows me to see in excruciating clarity the macabre environment around. Walls cemented with large stones, lined with human skulls, and patterns of runes, whose functions I am unawares. A musty scent enters my nostrils, foul odors of sulfur and ammonia, trapped within the confined space. Up ahead, I see Gin strolling along, apparently unbothered, humming a tune. I move a bit quicker to catch up, slight goosebumps dotting my arms as we pass through a cold patch.

“Where’s Vivian?” I ask. I glance around, noting that the woman is nowhere to be found, despite having entered the tunnels together with us. Somewhere along the way, I had lost sight of her.

Gin shrugs in reply. “Around,” he offers vaguely, and before I can ask what he means, I see him hold out a hand, indicating for me to stop, a finger to his lips. “Shh, look,” he whispers.

Peering around the corner, I find that our tunnel opens up into a large circular space, in the center of which are several rectangular boxes made of stone, coffins if I have to guess. There is also torchlight illuminating the area, held in the hands of two average looking men, one fat, one skinny. Both are dressed in long blue robes, with small black hats atop their heads. My eyes open wide from recognition.

“That’s them! That’s the two I saw in the marketplace!” I whisper, “They’re the smugglers.” And when I see Gin nod, I continue, “So what’s the plan?”

“Um, plan? Oh, right. Plan! Um, let’s see. How about, you loop around for an attack from the right, and I’ll go in from the left?”

“Pincer attack, got it. Good idea.”

“... E-exactly! It’s like you read my mind.”

“Wait, just to make sure though, if I use Magical Arrows on them...”

“Oh, they’ll die no doubt,” Gin shrugs.

I don’t mirror his cavalier attitude however. Killing a rampaging monster was one thing, but to kill another human being, even a criminal one…

I shake my head. “I don’t want to kill them… Isn’t there a spell to taser them or something?”

“Taser?”

“Um, like something non-lethal. A spell to just stun them.”

“Oh, I know what you mean now,” Gin says, his eyes lighting up, a smile crossing his face, “In fact, I have just the thing.” He leans over and whispers a set of instructions into my ear. After he’s done, he pulls back.

“That’s it? Are you sure it’ll work?” I ask, clear doubt in my voice.

“Trust me, it’ll stun them for sure,” Gin reassures, giving me a wink and a thumbs up. “Now, shall we commence Operation Stun Bad Guys?”

Despite his quirkiness, I do find Gin’s nonchalance during these times somewhat reassuring, and I nod my head, edging towards the right side of the tunnel. I see Gin give me a countdown with his finger. Three. Two. One-!

I burst into motion, rounding the right edge of the circular room in a crouch, popping up once I reach the midway point, and as I turn towards the smugglers, I note that my movement has clearly drawn their attention. The torches in their hands extend in my direction, as alarmed shouts echo through the space, “Who’s there!” It is too late, however, for my incantations and gestures are already in progress, the setup of my spell to attack.

“Om nom nom nom. Om nom nom nom. Om nom nom nom,” I chant, all the while jumping on one foot, one hand on my head, the other touching my nose. Three times around, my preparations complete, I call out the spell’s name, activating it. “[Itza Yoke].”

Dead silence befalls the room, and for a long minute, all is still. But then, a laughter erupts from the other end, the sound of Gin’s voice echoing in the air. “Hahaha! You actually did it! That was amazing, Jaxon!”

My face grows hot as I suddenly realize what has happened. I raise a finger, pointing it accusingly at Gin. “Liar, you told me this was a spell to stun them!”

“Look, they're stunned, aren’t they?”

And admittedly, the smugglers are “stunned”, their faces absolutely dumbfounded. But the moment does not last, for the sound of Gin’s voice breaks them out of the spell. The fat smuggler turns, panic in his voice as he said, “It’s Gin Renold! Shit! We gotta get out of here! Quick, use the thing!”

I see the skinny smuggler pull something out of his pocket, throwing it onto the ground. A green mist emerges, seeping into the coffins nearby. A second later, I hear the grinding of stone, as the lids of the tombs begin to move. Out emerges six humanoid figures, rotting flesh lacing exposed bone, as the familiar sounds of droning grunts echo through the chamber.

“Zombies?!” I exclaim.