I retrace my steps and find myself in a gloomy, dark passageway, with three possible paths before me: one leading forward, another to the right, and a flight of stairs that descends downwards at my back. The talisman around my neck - a worthless trinket if you ask me - begins to grow colder as I ponder going back down those ominous stairs, while it warms up when I consider turning to the right. It's quite fascinating how such a cheap piece of jewelry can pretend to be so mystical.

I stand there in my gleaming chain mail armor, battleaxe in hand, feeling every inch the formidable warrior that I am - well, at least in appearance. I glance around, sizing up my options like a cat eyeing its prey. Shall I:

Shall I: