He stood at the bottom of the stairs and found himself counting the steps. Trying to count the steps at least. He'd had his first beer over six hours ago. Beer had soon turned to whiskey and whiskey eventually turned to whatever was at hand. He didn't know where he was. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this drunk. His wallet was gone. It wasn't a mugging, just the indolent negligence of the over imbibed. One week later his wallet would still be in the lost and found of the The Black Pig tavern, unclaimed. That wasn't his concern now. His priority was the steps with which he found himself currently confronted. There were seventeen of them, though he would never know that. He lifted his foot, his left foot, to ascend the first step and a sound from above him caused him to look upward.

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It looked at him mercilessly, but not malevolently. This was how things were, it understood. Now it was his....misfortune, was how it thought of this brief task.

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The scuff of a boot and the rustle of a leathery wing pulled his attention upward. He wanted to scream but vomited instead. Emptiness descended upon him, enveloped him, and overcame him before his stomach retched again. His final thought turned toward an eternity of confusion and that which fed upon his misfortune sighed and melted into shadow.