Rotharde had heard the whispers about the Overgrown Caverns, how it was all linked, all some sort of symbiotic mega-system that could communicate with each other and blah, blah, blah… With a curt snort, he didn’t want to give such a ridiculous idea another thought. Those types of fables were for the likes of his sister, who’d obsess and daydream over it for weeks to come. Not Rotharde. Silly stories to scare away wannabe divers without the guts to face the dark wouldn’t work on him.

He surged forward, his gait confidant but calculated. He kept away from the massive roots that wove into the loam and created sudden drops into nothing. He steered clear of the large shroom caps, not quite adventurous enough to see just what side effects their spores could offer. He’d leave that to less… serious dungeon coursers. Some may come down here for a fun adventure, but Rotharde intended on making this his full-time gig and earn his weight in diving.

So, some extra large mushrooms or overpopulated clusters of caps wouldn’t scare him off. 

Honestly, he wanted out of here and to the Earthen Furnace as quickly as possible. Plants, while in his diet, weren’t his thing… It was boring down here. So boring in fact, he’d beg for something to make this trek worthwhile. He hadn’t found a single interesting or semi-valuable item to bring back! Just discarded gear that he’d adapt to his pack (he supposed not an entire loss) if it still had some life in it. Most didn’t though.

Even his movement had evolved into a skulk, slithering through the shadows to avoid detection if there happened to be some beastie. His head hung low, snaking against the ground so that he could test the scents left on the dirt floors for any kind of purchase of where to go. He felt like he'd been wandering here for hours, and he was growing tiresome of its monotony. Cramped tunnels weaved and rolled back on one another in a maze of still far, far too many mushrooms.

“What the hell is with all these anyways?” He cursed.

Then he heard it. The creak of bark or root. It was so quiet that had he said one other word he’d have missed it. He froze, eyes darting around the different passages. Where did that come from? It hadn’t been clear. Rotharde steadied his breathing as his rust-colored eyes roved every crook and cranny. There, in the shadows of a tunnel ahead…

There was a moment when he debated turning around or taking a different passage to avoid whatever it was just behind the veil of darkness. Then he remembered that he wasn’t some colt to be scared by silly stories. Rounding his neck to bring up his head, he marched towards whatever lay obscured behind the depths of black. His ears pinned and his brow beetled with defiance as he mentally prepared himself for a faceoff. Nothing would stop him from continuing.

As he drew nearer it emerged from the phantasms, a familiar shape. An equine… no, far more familiar than just a shared species. Hell, he swore it looked just like him. Shelf caps somehow captured his robust face and deep eyes with an uncanny likeness. It seemed to almost match his bravado, though frozen in its march from the deep wood of the dungeon. It seemed far too surreal, and surely, Rotharde could only consider one option.

“Very funny. You can come out now!” He barked into the silence, all the while stared down by the threatening realness of this mimic: ready to leap straight from the wall and fight him. No one answered his call, not even a scurrying mouse, leaving the stallion to stare down the colony of fungi alone in absolute silence.

Fine, if no one was going to claim their craftsmanship, he wasn’t going to linger around any longer to admire it.

The path forked at the haunting figure, and without much other thought besides “keep going” Rotharde chose to go right. He’d never admit how unnerved he was walking closer to the strange sculpture in his likeness… and even though it didn’t have eyes, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. He kept himself pressed to the opposing wall, keeping his eyes forward and ears back while he cursed whoever thought this was a funny joke. Just as he was going to turn and follow a new path he looked over his shoulder.

Had… was that thing looking at him? Had it turned his head?

He wasn’t sticking around to find out.