### 160

As the last enemy falls dead at your feet, a section of the wall slides back to reveal an ugly, bearded dwarf, wearing a grimy black velvet jerkin. His pig-like eyes twinkle malevolently as he raises a hollow brass tube and points it at your face.

‘Sweet dreams,’ he chortles, and a blast of icy cold vapour shoots from the tip, catching you squarely in the face. You reel back, coughing and choking, as the bitter vapour fills your lungs. By the time you realize that you have inhaled a powerful sleep gas, you are already succumbing to its irresistible power.

Turn to 165.