Ah, as I reach into the first alcove, a most peculiar phenomenon occurs - the very air around me distorts and warps, birthing a horde of undead abominations. Skeletons and zombies, all eager to protect their precious resting place, surge forth from the shadows with a determination that would be almost admirable if it weren't so utterly grotesque.

Suddenly, the undead horde charges! Three skeletal warriors, clad in rusted armor and wielding short swords, join forces with two putrid zombies. The skeletons are silent and relentless, while the zombies shamble towards me with a jerky, uneven gait. The stench of rot is overwhelming.

I charge into battle, my black axe at the ready. I strike out at one of the zombies, dealing a significant blow - 8 points of damage! But the victory is short-lived as a zombie retaliates, hitting me with its slam attack and causing me to suffer a staggering 11 points of damage.

Alas, my health reaches zero, and I succumb to death's cold embrace. As I fall, I can't help but think that this is a rather undignified end for a warrior such as myself. But fear not! I transform into a zombie - a cruel twist of fate, indeed.

So here I stand, a member of the very horde I sought to destroy. Oh, the irony is almost too much to bear. But alas, what's a undead warrior to do but continue fighting?

• Should I try again?