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The Old Adventures of Young Metzgro +1

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Rays of sun peaked through the remains of the old cathedral walls surrounding Metzgro. This was his queue to wake. The night of rest would prove to be an invaluable asset with what he was preparing to face within the ruins of the cathedral. Metzgro packed up and headed toward the double doors leading into the ruins.

The door opened with ease, but as he stepped in, some sort of Asylum Demon jumped down from the remains of the roof, blocking the path in between him and the door on the other side. Panic stricken, he scanned the room for an alternative route. To the left, crowded by vases, was a door. The slam of the demons great hammer brought Metzgro back to reality. He dove left and rushed for the door, diving in time to miss another attack from the demon and his great hammer. The portcullis dropped, preventing him from going back, and the demon from coming through. He was safe. A bonfire lay before him, he took this opportunity to catch his breath and gather his thoughts on how to proceed.

At this point, there was only one way forward. Another entryway was present in the back of the room he had dove into. Unaware of what was waiting for him, he soldiered on. The first step greeted him with an arrow that whistled inches past his cheek and clinked to the floor behind him. Further ahead stood some sort of hollowed out being holding a smaller variation of a bow. It loosed another arrow toward Metzgro as he stepped back to use the wall as cover. Peaking around, he spotted a round shield blemishing a crack propped up against the entryway of an adjacent room.

He baited the hollow to loose another arrow, and with this opportunity, he rolled forward to collect the shield and more cover. There was no way forward, no way past the hollow. He strapped the remains of the cracked round shield to his arm and barreled forward. Closing the gap frightened the hollow, causing him to flee up another hallway. Where the hollow stood, lay another hollow, a dead hollow, whom rested on a hand axe. He nudged the body off and retrieved the hand axe, definitely an upgrade to the straight sword hilt he had found in his cell, wrapped in the tattered cloth he was now wearing.

The hollow had trapped himself, behind him was some sort of white fog, and in front of him stood Metzgro, confused and angry as to why this random hollow would go out of it's way to harm him. With no time to react, or even blink, Metzgro let loose a flurry of swings, connecting three times. The hollow lay there, head in mangles, as Metzgro gathered his breath. He stepped over, snapping the bow in half under his boot, as he reached for the White Fog.

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