Arlow tried to push the mines to the back of his head. Tried. Really, really tried.

"...ughhh.. Fine." But he failed. Despite the looming danger of the mines, he found himself hopelessly unable to resist the call of adventure. So early one morning, he gathered up his supplies and booked it to the headquarters of the adventurers guild. As the wizard had promised, they seemed to light up at the idea of a new, young face in their ranks, and Arlow was having a sword shoved into his hands before he could even finish explaining himself.

While a bit put off by their lack of safety, not even giving him the slightest of tests to make sure he knew what he was doing, Arlow was kinda relieved. He was aching to get straight into it.

Maybe it was the promise of distraction from the air of sadness drowning out the town. Maybe it was an excuse for him to get away from people and enjoy his own company for a while. But he couldn't be happier to jump right in.

His confidence definitely got knocked down a peg when he was almost immediately injured. The wizard hadn't been joking, things were certainly getting a bit... Seedy. It was crowded with enemies on every corner, a boiling pot of screaming faces, nasty bugs, and gurgling piles of slime.

The most insulting part is that he wasn't even directly hurt by a monster. Arlow had ended up tripping over something and scraping up his knees while he was running away. Dejected, and feeling like a child, Arlow hid behind some boxes to regain his composure.

He sighed as he put his face in his hands. "What did I even trip on...? It didn't sound like a rock. Or feel like one. It... Rolled?"

He looked back up, peeking around the boxes as he lit up a torch and held it up, attempting to see what he'd tripped over through the dense shadows.

Much to Arlow's confusion, it appeared to be a beer can. Not an old, worn out one like you might expect down here, but a fresh one with a fully intact label. It was hardly even dirty.

He frowned, thinking about how wreckless it would be for someone to have a drink while mining. Even if you ignored the dangerous monsters, the idea of someone swinging around a huge, sharp metal object while intoxicated made Arlow a bit uneasy. That uneasyness turned to irritation as he thought about how this careless littering had put his own safety at risk. He could have been killed if a monster had been more close by.

Arlow's train of thought was abruptly cut off as he heard the sound of another can hitting the ground. He jumped up, looking around in the darkness for whoever was down there with him.

"Hello? Is someone there? It's really dangerous to be drinking down here you know!"

An unsettling silence fell over the mine. Arlow was about to let it go and admit he was just hearing things, when suddenly he got an answer.

A deep, slightly raspy, but all together tired sounding voice came out of the darkness. "Yknow, I'd argue that yelling and attracting every monster down here to us is a lot stupider."

He felt his face go hot with embarrassment. While he wanted to retort back, this mysterious stranger was kinda right. What if the sound had come from a monster? Arlow would have led it right to him by calling out like that. "Well- could you at least get closer so I don't have to talk so loud?"

There was another long pause. "...I don't think you'd like that. I'm not pretty."

Arlow almost laughed at the statement. "What? I don't care what you look like. I'm not gonna start whining about it like Haley."

There was a slight snort from the other person. "Fair, but that's not exactly what I mean. Here I'll... Come over there, but on one condition. Promise you're not gonna attack me."

He was a bit taken aback by the request. "I uh... I'm not sure why I would. But okay, I promise." Arlow leaned his sword against one of the wooden crates to further reinforce the promise. He felt himself tense a bit as he heard the footsteps of the man getting closer.

A figure slowly entered his line of sight. He had a serious limp, but aside from that nothing seemed too unusual.

That is... Untill he got closer. Arlow's hands trembled a bit as he suddenly realized why the man hadn't wanted Arlow to see him.

He was dressed in very distinct, out of place attire for a mine. A nicely tailored black suit, covered in small rips and dirt stains. Even in the warm torch light his skin appeared washed out and graying, with a green tinge that Arlow recognized all too well from the creatures he'd fought on his way down. The mans eyes were sunken, and had the yellow hue of someone whos liver had taken a beating, complimented by the faint smell of alcohol coming from his person.

There was no mistaking it. From the funeral attire, to the lifeless eye contact the man was currently making with Arlow. He was staring at a zombie.

Arlow did his best to repress the scream that was trying to rise up his throat. His eyes darted between the man, and the sword leaning against the crate. This didn't go unnoticed by his unfortunate company, who took a step back and put his hands up a bit.

"Hey, you promised."

Arlow took a deep, unsteady breath. "Yeah I- I'm sorry I just um- wasn't expecting a uh- ..."

He raised an eyebrow, chuckling dryly at Arlow's panicked demeanor. "A zombie? Yeah it fuckin sucks for me too. You'll get used to it."

As he began to calm down, realizing that the stranger had no clear intention of hurting him, Arlow started to get a better look at him. "So um... How come you act so... Normal? I didn't know zombies could talk. Or really think at all."

He just shrugged. "Don't know. I'm not a doctor. Or a scientist. Or whoever the hell is responsible for all this. Maybe Yoba just fuckin hates me."

"That's pretty bleak."

"Yeah, well, you try going out to the bar to unwind and waking up in your own coffin. I think you'd be pretty pessimistic too."

Suddenly, something clicked in Arlow's brain. All at once, he was able to place the mans features. Something about him had looked so familiar, and now he knew why as he felt himself flashing back to everything he'd seen and been told over the past few weeks. A sense of dread came over him, as he prayed that he was wrong, and asked a very important question. "Sorry, right. By the way um... What's your name?"

The man let out a ragged sigh, as if knowing Arlow didn't want the answer he was about to give. "...I'm... Shane."