Diffused across the dungeon's dimly-lit corridors and shadowy recesses, spread like a pat of butter across too much bread, Schnupfen could finally begin to decompress. Though malleable and variously incorporeal, his tenebrous form was neither infinite nor truly amorphous, so by literally scattering his brain throughout his domain he could mitigate his ability to feel panic and dilute the stress that plagued him. This also resulted in the byproduct of giving the dungeon a spooky ambiance as his bleary eyes pulsed in the shadows and his fitful breathing disturbed the silence. Bit by bit, Schnupfen's sudden and inexplicable anxiety melted into the gloom, and when he felt ready the shadow began to collect himself.

It wasn't long after Schnupfen coalesced that his terrified prognostication came true. Tramping feet and unfamiliar voices, well after the return of Zogi and his away team, told the dungeon that unwelcome visitors had arrived. Though no longer stricken with fear, Schnupfen still felt an acute dread when he confirmed the intrusion; if he had skin, goosebumps would have pimpled his flesh. It was a bad time for an invasion, after all. Some defenses had only just been established, and they weren't anywhere near presentable, let alone complete. Sadly, they would have to do. As far as he knew, Salbjörg, Muste, and the rats were all still absent. That left the dungeon's fate in the hands of the Oracle, Zogi, the minions, and of course himself. Zoppy's absence was a conscious omission, since she would be a liability if anything. Honestly, the dungeon could do without her. Still, it wasn't all doom and gloom, and Schnupfen quivered not just with fear, but anticipation. He was eager to see his traps in action, and if push came to shove as it did during the dungeon's first endangerment, take life by his own hand.

Mere moments after the adventurers entered, Schnupfen was with them. The abilities to become incorporeal, travel through walls, and then hide in the darkness made him an ideal first responder. He supposed that someone with some serious arcane acumen might be able to detect him amidst the shadows, but these intruders did not strike him as anywhere near that level. They numbered eight in total, almost equal to the number of dungeon keepers (if half of them weren't missing in action) and for the most part, sported only a smattering of shoddy, homemade equipment. If anything, they looked more like teenagers playing at heroism than heroes themselves. Nevertheless, with the dungeon and its defenders so newly born, they presented a serious threat, and none more so than the familiar young man at the head of the group. Schnupfen's invisible lip curled in disgust as he recognized the boy from before. Revival...a hideous perversion of the natural order. To return from death was to spurn Mother Void, to reject the sweet and velvety nothingness that rightfully awaited every weary soul at the end of the road they called life. It affronted Schnupfen, but nevertheless, he would do his duty as Mother Void's envoy to return these wretches to the abyss from which they came, however many times it would take.

He watched, possessed by devilish delight, as several intruders ran afoul of his traps. One perished with an arrow in his neck, and another tumbled into his pitfall. Despite (or perhaps because of) all his second-guessing and perfectionism, his mechanisms and been cunning and lethally placed, after all! That gave him three kills under his belt, the most out of any dungeon keeper by far. If only his second arrow had met its mark in that wannabe hero's cranium. His ability to deflect a flying arrow with that sword of his was rather worrying, but Schnupfen chalked it up to suboptimal placement of the second arrow trap's components for now. The real problem was the bizarre but horrifying sensation that rankled him when one of the adventurers opened up the chest he placed--quite the whiplash from his joy seeing one of those vile mages run afoul of his pit seconds earlier. What was...oh, no. In all his hustle and bustle earlier, flitting this way and that as he tried to set up all the different traps, had he forgotten to put anything in the chest? [i]Damn it.[/i] Now adventurers would be much less likely to stumble into his pitfall. Yet that fact did little to explain that dreadful sensation. Was it just nerves...? [i]Come on, Schnupfen,[/i] he mentally berated himself. [i]Get it together![/i]

By then, the dungeon's defenders finally made their move. Or rather the dungeon's defender, singular, in the form of Zogi as he confronted the reunited party in the guillotine chamber, the dungeon's halfway point. Schnupfen watched, disconcerted. On one hand, Zogi was a capable goblin, but on the other hand he was alone against a party of six, and the shadow remembered exactly how Zogi last fared in a one-on-one. What chance did he have?

Instead of attacking, however, Zogi put on a show. Schnupfen realized what he was up to right away. He was trying to buy time, maybe for more defenders to show up and even the odds, but probably for that cursed guillotine to work its subtle but bloodthirsty magic. Even if he didn't understand how it worked, after all, Schnupfen could smell sorcery from a mile away. Just being in the same room as that thing made his eyes water, but it would do a lot worse to the adventurers if given half a chance. Hopefully.

Of course, once the intruders ran out of amusement or patience, they could end this farce in a heartbeat. Schnupfen could no longer play the part of passive observer. He needed to intercede [i]now[/i]. But how? He did not wield the strength to meaningfully hurt these people before either the mage or the priest cast at him, and if he spurred them to violence, it would be over for Zogi that much faster. Maybe now was the time to reveal his penchant for misdirection.

Schnupfen positioned himself a short distance behind the group as they stood spellbound by Zogi's dance, back in the antechamber where his pitfall was. He his inside the pit, then adjusted his tone, adding a little echo for good measure. "Hello?" he called out plaintively in the voice of the fallen mage boy. "Guys? It's dark down here! Please, get me out!" He gave a very convincing teary sniffle, which was one of his specialties. "Uuhuh...I...I sprained my ankle real bad when I fell. Hurt so much I passed out for a minute. But it's only like twenty feet deep! You gotta pull me out, don't leave me down here! It'd just take two of you, somebody brought some rope, right!? Please!"

Ideally, the party would split again, some heading back to help out their fallen companion while the others kept a suspicious eye on Zogi, ready to cut him down if he tried any funny business but less willing to push forward until the whole team was together again. And all the while, those who remained would be inexplicably drawn to the guillotine. Schnupfen himself wasn't in any danger unless one of the magic-users just decided to fling spells into the darkness for the fun of it. Then again, they could just be very paranoid, the thought of which made Schnupfen paranoid.