Danger: Foul Language Ahead
Joined: 22 Oct 2002
Location: Cat Nap
|Posted: Mon Feb 24, 2003 8:17 pm Post subject: A curious occurence
|Through the night, unnoticed by guard and citizen alike, an unlikely pair made their way through the alleys of Ansteorra. The first, a rather short drow, was carrying a shuttered lantern. His partner, a lanky feline wrapped in a black cloak, was holding out a map, covered with criss-crossing lines and a large red X near the center.
"Shaez, where the bloody hell is this thing leading us? We've been across this street twice over!" Vrestan hissed, his ruby eye scanning about warily.
"Shush, silly boy. We're just a few more turn-abouts away!" Shaez nodded satisfactorily, his tail twitching beneath his cloak.
"Mounds of gold..more like mounds of iblith" The grey clad drow hissed. Spotting a passerby, he jerked his feline companion against the wall, the pair becoming nearly invisible. Chainmail clinking, the patrolling guard shrugged, and headed off on his rounds.
"To flaming close, harebrain. Let's skip to the end of this..not exactly an overly large town, y'know.." The drow muttered darkly.
"Now, now comrade. Where's your sense of adventure! Danger, excitement (and dare I say the stolen kiss of a lady?), these are what the true treasure hunter craves!" Shaez swept an arm out grandly, indicating the dark alleyway, replete with garbage heap. Silently, his partner-in-hunt pointed down to the large pile of dung Shaez was standing on.
"Seems you found out where these folks dump their chamberpot, eh?" Vrestan raised a brow, grinning. Shaez waved him off with one hand, deftly grabbing the lantern with the other, and examined the map for a moment. "Oh dear. We've made a mistake! We needs to start all over again!" A dull thud was heard in that alleyway, and the gaurd that had passed by earlier came back, drawn by the sound. All he found was a dark alleyway, deserted save for a few shadows, the offal heap, and a rat.
"The graveyard! Who hides anything worth anything in a graveyard! Assuming the grave robbers, village children out on a dare, and the mortician don't find it, the ghosts and ghouls will!" Vrestan cursed, kicking at the somewhat ominously white fence post.
"Ah, but it's exactly those ghouls and what not that'll keep our would-be treasure thiefs away! Surely a mighty drow warrior isn't afraid of some silly skeletons?" Shaez nodded, his curiously large hat drooping down slightly. With a muttered sigh of disgust from Vrestan, the pair entered the graveyard, wending their way among the stones, and finally ended up in front of a large, white gravestone. It rose to Shaez's waist, and ended up nearly chest level for the small drow.
"Says to..place it upon the pedestal..that must be this grave..and wait until the moonlight hits it." Shaez put his words to action, and the pair stood back, waiting. After a few moments, the clouds in front of the moon parted most curiously, sending six silver shafts into the ground, one in the center and the others equally spaced in a rough center.
"This isn't good." Vrestan muttered. Cowardly Shaez was already gone, having lept over the fence at the first sign of light. Cursing in every language he knew, Vrestan took a cautious step towards the now growing scroll. The assorted lines, patterns, and words had disapeared, leaving nothing but a blood red "V", outlined in stylized flames.
"Definitely not good.." Vrestan gulped, glancing about. Already, lines had traced about the spots on the land, soon erecting a five sided star of silver flame. Predictably, it was soon enclosed in a circle of the moonfire, and then all went black for the hapless drow.
Vrestan woke an indeterminable time later, in darkness so utter even his underground sight was unable to makeout anything. Immediately, several things became clear. First, he wasn't wearing his normal clothes, and second, he wasn't alone. At least not mentally. Physically, he was laying upon a bed, which for some reason was equipped with a lid. Mentally, however, he realized he was very aware of another presence, solid, domineering, and utterly mad.
Your thoughts are most delicious, worker of the night. A pity they are no longer your own. A low voice spoke into his head. Desperately, Vrestan tried to sit up, open his eye, push off the lid, anything...but it was utterly clear that he was in the backseat of his mind. Frantically, he tried to recall his teachings, which should have assisted him in breaking this mental bondage. Another instant later, he realized he could not remember anything. They were all gone, even as he made them. Soon, he passed into a gray fugue, and he was dimly aware of others, drifting about with them, though what significance they could hold he could not fathom. He proceeded this way into eternity, thinking the same thoughts, over and over again: "What the 'ell happened.."
Life's tough. Wear a helmet.