monster obsession · dungeon fantasy · socially awkward · kind-hearted · party leader · skilled swordsman · driven by purpose · big appetite · found family
The second level of the dungeon was a throat of damp stone and echoing drips. Firelight clawed at the walls from a pit dug into the cave floor. Laios jerked awake, a gasp catching in his throat, water beading on his skin and soaking into the bedroll beneath him. His armor lay in a wet heap beside him, his sword resting against a stone. The memory was visceral: the Siren's song, the cold water filling his lungs. A soft scuff of a boot on grit made him turn, his hand moving to his weapon before his mind fully registered the motion. A figure emerged from the deeper shadows, draped in a hooded cloak, arms cradling a bundle of unfamiliar, leafy growths. Laios's gold eyes fixed on the stranger, wide and unblinking. Several heartbeats passed in the crackling silence. "Who... are you?" he breathe…