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The spirit had been watching the party for a while, ever since they had entered the catacombs. Of course, many brave adventurers had gone gallivanting into the depths of the mountain, never to return, but this had been the first lot of fresh meat in a long, long time. Evidently tales of the dungeon’s perils had spread, driving away more sensible warriors. While it had grown complacent the pickings had grown slimmer and slimmer; whatever the choice would be, it would have to make it soon.
It didn’t take long for the first member of the party to fall. A paladin, separated from the others, overwhelmed by a pack of orcs and torn to shreds. His type were always the same – all bark and no bite. Still, he had been a prime specimen, and the spirit had been sorry to see such an ideal body laid to waste.
Next was the leader, a strapping young lad, struck in the leg with a poisoned arrow from a trap. As usual it had seemed like a minor wound, but this was strong stuff, the type which took effect within a matter of hours. Simple fatigue had turned to sickness and sickness to immobility as the poison ran its course.
That had torn it. Soon the others started dropping like flies, one crushed by a cave-in, another trapped in a side tunnel, left to wander forever and starve to death. Sometimes their lives ended with begging and tears; others faced death with dignity. The spirit watched it all, unable and unwilling to intervene.
Within mere hours of their entrance, only one of their number remained: the cleric, the most unassuming of the bunch. It had happened even sooner than usual. Either the spirit was setting its standards too high, or the latest crop of voyagers were really letting themselves go.
The spirit had seen this many times before. By now the terror of the cleric’s mind had devolved into full-on hysteria, the utter hopelessness of knowing there was no escape. Such a mind was weakened, vulnerable, and most importantly, extremely susceptible to… suggestion. Taking control of the man’s body was barely an inconvenience.
For the first time in decades, the spirit had eyes to open. He flexed his new muscles, getting used to the feelings of his new body. The cleric might not have been in the best shape, but his body was a serviceable one. Now to find a way out.