So much is left unsaid about the sulfur pools in southern Eastmarch. An inhospitable place where not many things tend to thrive. Be warned, it is a place of death. A place where hope fleets from the hearts of even the most seasoned warriors. Even the mighty mammoths of Northern Eastmarch only cross it when they know there is only death left.
Maybe it is death whom lives here. In this place of stench and rot. Soiled ground where not even the Deadra tend to appear. Does she hold the hands of those foolish enough to trek into this waste land? Dine with adventures too stubborn to realize it will be their last camp? Or does she protect them as long as she can, until she finally succumbs to her own hunger. She may feast upon mortality, this place feasts upon your mind.
Many stories are told to children about the horrors that await them in the pools. There are not many in town foolish enough to set foot in the place. A many soldiers tells stories of facing down unknown enemies, then finish the tales with how they went around the pools on their march for the city. It's placed in your mind to not venture there, be it myth or fact.
So one must ask themselves, how this current predicament was placed upon them. How does one wake in a lightless hole, deep in the bowels of the pools we were taught so well to avoid. Can it be blamed on childlike curiosity? A rebellious disregard for warnings or ill omens? No, one must blame the mead. The mead and foolishness, cradled softly in the prideful need to gamble.
Nords seem to be hardy people. Tough and wild at heart. Sober them up though and you will find worry of this current situation. One will also be worried about where they will find more mead. Pacing back and forth. Sweating. Not from the steam rising off the ground, from the pools dripping through to the cool earth below. Although, they can be partly to blame. Cold sweat, solely from the sobering thoughts of thirst.
It can also be from fear. The type of fear from being caught. No, being caught would end this hopeless feeling. Fear, from knowing that there may only be one outcome. Yet, fear can become survival to some. The drive one would need. Fear can also cause madness. Madness that something lurks where only shadows are. You can credit it for the breathing coming from behind you. Seemingly from the walls themselves.
It's the scratching noises that get you first. One could pass it off as the echos of the sizzling steam. These walls may feel alive but its only earth. Stone and dirt are all that live here. One would doubt that anything has set foot in here. Nothing would be that foolish.
That is when the hunger starts to set in. A hopeless hunger. Only made worse by the strangling smell of sulfur. The growl of your stomach echos off the walls. Coming back as the sound of a hungering beast in the darkest distance. It makes you weak. Even if for a moment, as you start to dig your fingers into the wall behind you. It's warm and slimey to the touch. As if you were swollowed by the world itself.
Your eyes are useless in this dark. Your sense of smell currently overwhelmed. Sound and touch are all you have as tools. Your body slowly betraying you, fighting over thirst and hunger. You begin to move. Standing at first. The smell stronger, the growls from within you louder. The creature stirs around you, it's growling more intense. The sound of foot steps above you. Thuds coming from the ceiling. You scream in hopes they hear you.
Choking on the thick air. Your ear's ringing from the creature screaming back. The faint thudding echo steady behind it. The pools teasing you with thoughts of saviours. You move down the walls, fingers against them. You can feel the scratches of those before you. Slimey ridges dug deep into the stones of this ancient hell. The smell teasing you more as you continue forward.
You drag your self deeper into the belly. This creature that swallowed you whole seems endless as you venture further into despair. It's breathing seems to constrict you. Taking your breath more and more the further you go. Lungs aching for air, heart racing for freedom. The footsteps behind you feel closer than ever. Sweet freedom, you mind tells you. Yet, every step feels heavier than the last.
You shed yourself from the burden of your protective layers. You wont need them, these elements are different. The weight of the damp clothing would of been your down fall. You feel a renewed since of hope. Your lighter movements send you into a blissful mood. A smile across your face. You will find your freedom. Faith restored.
As time progress you feel at the doorstep of freedom. You send your heart into a marathon. You press forward even as the walls seem to be narrowing the further you go. At a point you have to crawl, the ceiling right above you, the walls at your shoulders. It press you but not your pride. It never washes the smile off of your face. The grin grows larger as your hands find footprints on the floor.
Sweet bliss. There have been others here. No signs before, no bodies. Escape must have been their faith also. Crawling slows as you begin to hear voices. Could it be them? Could it be your final moments in this beast? You claw at the ground forcing yourself to move. Then the light comes.
You began to laugh. Naked, muddy and a stench that would take a lifetime to wash away. You move quicker. The light is all you can see. Your freedom has arrived. Her hand touches your shoulder. You feel at ease. You are home. You are finally home. Where you first awoke inside this monster.