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[X] French cuisine. Goes well with a good wine.

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Butterflies. He feels like his stomach is full of butterflies. Sickly green creatures fluttering about from inside. He struggles to maintain composure, but to no avail. In the end, he walks to a corner, violently vomitting on the ground.

He wipes the blood off his sword with a rag as he catches his breath. He thought he was safe after barricading the door. He didn't think that some of them would be small enough to crawl in through the windows. He didn't think there would be so many of them, half the size of adults.

Like a plague, it spared no one. Not even children.

He has slain seven or eight of them, so far. The missing village children.

He takes a large iron key from his pocket and examines it closely. It seems to have some words engraved on it. While rust has coated most of it, a single word can still be read - "Hope".

During the short reprieve after he barricaded the door, he found this key behind the altar. Perhaps there is an escape tunnel beyond these crypts, just like those village rumors.

He pockets the key and picks up his dropped torch. He cautiously moves forward, sword at hand. The crypts seem to extend deep underground.

After several minutes of wandering, he arrives at a junction.

[ ] Go left.
[ ] Go right.