Nothing about his first solo expedition had been expected. Everything Samir thought would serve as preparation for his independence seemed useless now that he was alone. He wondered how any of the seasoned dungeoneers - the heroes - ever managed to survive on their own. Samir had yet to even face anything of substance and already regret was washing through him as a rising tide. 

Tucked away in a relatively safe chamber of the upper dungeon, the young courser lay in a state of half sleep. His trusty hound, Jenny the small but scrappy Welsh terrier, slept easily in a tight ball against his flank. Samir's mind blurred with a montage of images, real, remembered and imaged. The flash of a green slime, surprisngly friendly, that hed stumbled upon, suddenly followed by the ominous red-gold crown he'd nearly fallen victim to. Samir's head jerked in his sleep as if to pull away from the cursed object, his long, unkempt tresses billowing about his neck with the movement.

He turned to the sound of chattering laughter echoing through the liminal space between sleep and waking. The clay pots that complained of the Wizard's neglect yammered a cacophony before their ceramic mouths filled with rows upon rows of needle-like teeth. 

"Nnn... no..." His voice was a slurred mumble as his head jerked again, tail flicking with the anxiety of his half-remembered nightmares. 

Although the sentient stoneware had in reality only wanted snacks, in his dreams they wanted more. Their hunger was insatiable and it wasn't sweet confectionary they desired. Mouths and teeth snapping wildly the hoard of urns began overwhelming the helpless courser. Samir was frozen in place, but somehow the enchanted objects were able to drag him downwards, pulling him through thick, black, smothering earth. He felt his body falling, tumbling, his instincts telling him the ground was rushing up to meet him; the impact would shatter him.

A violent shockwave coursed through him, causing Samir's body to jerk sharply as he let our a strangled cry. Mismatched eyes shot open, white sclera stark in the gloom of the dimly lit chamber, frantically searching for the ravenous pots or whatever else might have come to feast upon him. His ragged breathing and fibrillating heart began to slow as reality settled back over him. He became concious of his face - it was wet. Had he been crying? Samir realized he had been, a bit, but more so it had been Jenny licking at his face. She must have been trying to wake him from the nightterrors that held him captive. Lowering his nose to the small canine he gave his little companion a grateful nuzzle which was met with relieved whimpering and another smattering of kisses.

A great sigh escaped Samir, long-lashed eyelids closing for a moment as he attempted to ground himself. Rising stifly, he shook himself to loosen whatever dungeon dust clung to his coat, and to encourage wakefulness. Sleep would not find the Courser again for some time so he was left to either linger or press on. He elected for latter, moving slowly from his makeshift sanctum back into the labyrinthine tunnels of the dungeon. His mind was left to wander its own maze of thoughts and anxieties. Had he made the right choice, setting off alone? Or was his desire to prove himself ultimately a death wish?