» Thu Aug 25, 2011 11:43 am
The white stone ruins were even larger up close. The broken arches he saw from afar were at least three or four stories high, casting odd shadows across the white marble ruins. After some simple exploration, Valen found a large stone door with blue rune etched into it. With some effort, he managed to push it open, and step inside. Hopefully, the ruins would provide some much needed solace for the fugitive.
He stepped inside, and was met with a gust of stale air, that smelled faintly of rotten flesh. He began to explore the dusty ruins, moving from room to room, methodically searching for loot, and a nice place to hunker down for a while. He found a few gems and a small smattering of gold here and there, and a couple of luminescent blue stones. They weren’t very heavy, but they were large, and took up too much space on his person, thus limiting him to bring only a few of them along.
The air grew muskier, and the light less prevalent as he went on, forcing him to equip a touch to continue. He entered a dark room, his torchlight just barely able to reach the far corners of the chamber. In the center of the room, atop a pedestal, sat a glowing blue stone, but it was unlike the others he had found. This one was larger, and more finely crafted. Valen reached out to touch it, when he heard a sound behind him. It was the sound a tongue makes as it licks a pair of lips; the sound a sponge makes when being wrung out.
He spun, unsheathing his saber, ready to fight whatever monster was behind him, but he saw nothing. Only a dark hallway. He dismissed the noise, sheathed his blade, and reached out again, taking the stone in his hand. It seemed to hum, as if it had a special energy to it. He knew it was very valuable, and pocketed it.
He treaded on, deeper into the ancient ruins. It was fascinating, walking through a once inhabited city. His difficulties on the outside world were soon forgotten, as he submerged himself in the long forgotten city. He occasionally heard the sickly sloshing sound behind him, but quickly dismissed is as dripping water, or something similar.
Valen’s explorations led him into a massive chamber, with a dark pool of water in the center. Large, metallic chandeliers containing luminescent crystals hung from the ceiling, casting an eerie blue-green light throughout the chamber. He stood at the base of the pool, awed by the size of the room, when he heard the sloshing sound again. But this time it was louder, and much more persistent. Constant . It had to be something more that dripping water.
The Dark Elf turned around once again to investigate the sound of the noise. But this time, he saw its source. A monstrosity stood before him. It stood at least seven feet tall, and composed of rotted flesh. One hand had large, eagle-like talons grew from its fingers, and the other hand was replaced by a set of withering tentacles. Its lower jaw was completely missing, and its eyes glowed a fearsome crimson.
Everything seemed to happen at once. The creature gurgled and lashed out with its grimy talons, nearly tearing Valen’s face off. The Dumner leapt back, franticly drawing his blade. The undead beast came in low this time with his tentacles, and grappled onto the Dumner’s leg. Valen was pulled to the ground as the beast’s talons raked across his lower torso.
Valen screamed in pain, desperately thrusting his blade towards the monster, producing several punctures in its rotten flesh. The beast tried to strike him again, but Valen swung his saber madly at the tentacled hand that held him down. The steel hacked deep into the mutated flesh, and he could feel it cut through the creature’s bone.
The monstrosity roared in frustration, and recoiled from where Valen lay, wounded and horrified. Almost without thinking, the Dumner Leapt to his feet and dashed away from the zombie. His eyes darted to and fro, searching for a place of safe haven. He could hear the thing behind him, its rotten flesh making a sloshing sound as it rubbed together.
There! . A niche in the wall! With a door! He sprinted madly through the door, slamming the metal gate behind him, refusing the creature entrance. The flesh golem snarled and screeched in rage, trying to claw through the door in vain before sulking back off into the darkness. Valen was safe.
Durring the fight, there was little room for fear. But now that he was away from the zombie, or golem, or whatever the hell it was, the fear began to set in. Images of its warped and twisted body flashed through his mind, the feral noises that emitted from its jawless maw. Valen shuddered and pushed the images out of his mind, fear would not help him though this. He knew he had to kill the creature to escape. He would survive. He always survived.
The room Valen was in was a small chamber, with a low ceiling, unlike the pervious room. In the corner, he a skeleton propped up against the wall, a silver longsword in his hand. Next to the remains sat a small travel pack, and a leather-bound book.
