The eastern sky was just getting bright with the first hints of dawn when Leon arrived at the city gate.
The rest of the party was already there, checking their gear. Lyra, the archer, was methodically inspecting her arrows, Brom, the warrior, was grumbling as he tightened the straps on his massive axe, and Finn, the mage, was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement.
"You're on time," Lyra noted with a nod of approval as Leon approached. "That's a good start."
"Why wouldn't he be?" Brom grunted, not looking up from his axe. "Easiest gold coin he'll ever make."
"Now, Brom, be nice," Finn chirped, rushing over to Leon. "Glad you could make it! This is going to be great! The Murkwater Crypt is a genuine Old Kingdom site! Imagine the history!"
"Imagine the mud," Brom muttered.
Lyra ignored them both. "Alright, let's go over the plan one more time," she said, her voice cutting through the morning chill.
"The journey is half a day's walk south. Brom, you're on point. Finn, you're in the middle, ready with support spells. I'll take the rear and watch our backs."
She looked at Leon. "You… you stay behind Brom and in front of Finn. Your only job is to not touch anything and not wander off. Understood?"
"Understood," Leon replied with a simple nod. There was no need to tell them more about his physical strength, he would just help them if something happened.
The journey was uneventful, filled mostly with Finn's excited chatter. He shared the "official" history of the crypt, explaining that it was the forgotten treasury of a minor noble family, the House of Gryphon, that had been wiped out during the Demon Wars centuries ago.
He knew a surprising amount of detail, from the type of architecture to the rumored layouts.
"He talks so fast!" Kira's voice echoed in Leon's mind. "He must really, really love old stories."
"Either that," Leon replied mentally, "or he's read the mission brief very, very carefully."
Brom, for his part, complained about everything—the humidity, the insects, the quality of his rations.
Yet, Leon noticed that despite his grumpy demeanor, the big warrior's eyes were constantly scanning their surroundings, and he subtly adjusted his position whenever a strange noise came from the woods, keeping himself between the sound and the rest of the party.
"Leon, that Brom is very grumpy," Kira observed, "but he keeps checking to make sure Lyra and Finn are safe."
Leon remained mostly silent, but occasionally he would interject with a simple question. "The path forks here. The map says to go left, but the ground on the right is higher and drier. Less risk of ambush," he pointed out once.
Lyra paused, considered his words, and then nodded. "He's right. We'll go right." Brom shot Leon an annoyed glare, irritated that the "warm body" had contributed something useful.
Finally, after hours of walking, they arrived. The Murkwater Crypt was not an impressive structure. It was a squat, half-sunken stone building nestled in a foul-smelling swamp.
A thick, sickly green mist clung to the ground, and the stone entrance was choked with slimy, black vines. The air was heavy and cold.
The party's cheerful, professional mood vanished, replaced by a tense silence.
"Right," Lyra said, her voice low as she drew an arrow from her quiver. "This is it. From this point on, no more chatter. Stay close, watch your feet, and be ready for anything."
Brom hefted his axe, his complaining forgotten, his face now a mask of grim focus. Finn swallowed nervously, his earlier excitement gone.
"Remember, kid," Brom grunted at Leon. "Stay behind me. Your job is to not die. Try not to fail at that."
With Lyra in the lead, they stepped through the dark, ominous archway and into the gloom of the Murkwater Crypt.
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The air inside the Murkwater Crypt was cold and heavy with the smell of damp earth and decay. Following Lyra's instructions, Brom took the lead, his heavy axe held at the ready.
Leon followed him, sticking to his role as the 'warm body'. Behind him, Finn nervously clutched a glowing orb, muttering a basic light spell.
Lyra brought up the rear, a glowing arrow nocked in her bow, its light pushing back the oppressive darkness and allowing her to watch their backs.
They entered a vast, circular chamber. The room was filled with dozens of humanoid figures standing in silent, motionless rows. They were made of a strange, rust-covered metal, their forms vaguely resembling ancient suits of armor.
"Golems," Lyra whispered from the back, her voice tight. "Old Kingdom models. They should be dormant."
"I don't like this," Brom grunted from the front, tapping the stone floor with his armored boot. "It's too quiet."
As if on cue, the moment Brom's boot touched a pressure plate disguised as a normal flagstone, a low grinding sound echoed through the chamber. One by one, glowing red runes ignited within the eye sockets of the golems. They straightened up, their rusty joints groaning in protest, and turned their heads in unison to face the intruders.
"Well, you just had to say something, didn't you?" Lyra hissed from the rear. "Finn, get ready! Brom, with me!"
The first line of golems began to march forward, their steps heavy and unnervingly synchronized. They were slow, but relentless.
"Haaa!" Brom roared, charging forward and swinging his massive axe in a wide arc.
The axe head, which could cleave a troll in two, slammed into the golem's chest with a deafening CLANG. The golem staggered back a step, a large dent in its chest plate, but it immediately righted itself and swung a massive metal fist.
Brom barely managed to block it with the flat of his axe, the impact sending a painful shock up his arms.
"These things are solid!"