Prologue
"Take it and run! Run, damn you, run!" the barbarian shaman screamed as he threw the pink sphere they had found. The wood elf caught the sphere, and took off running. As he reached the exit of the rocky cavern, he looked back for a moment. He saw his four comrades fighting for their lives, and the fifth one lying dead. All around them swarmed the short, halfling sized grimlings. He saw the shaman look at him, and all at once he gathered his wits and took off running again.
He exited the cavern and entered into a long passageway made of stone. It was almost to dark to see, but every 30 feet or so, a torch hung off the wall and lit only a few feet before it was again suffocated by the darkness. He ran with every bit of strength that he had left. He knew that they must be chasing him. The air was hot and heavy, almost to heavy to breathe. He felt sweat begin to drip down underneath his armor, and over his face.
Ahead of him, he could see another cavern that was well lit. They had come through it earlier. It was full of bones, which were strewn about the floor, and had a great fire roaring in the center. All along the walls, mystic markings had been painted. As he entered the room, the light from the fire forced his eyes to squint, and for a moment he paused. As soon as he was able to open them again, he saw another grimling standing between him and the fire. On the opposite side of the room was the exit. The grimling in front of him had thick black hair that shot out in every direction. It had no armor and looked to be unarmed.
He drew his blades, prepared for an easy fight. He had weapons, and at least a hundred pounds over the grimling, he couldn't lose. As he began to move toward it, it lifted both of its arms and began waving them back and forth while chanting a language he couldn't begin to understand. Suddenly, all the bones on the floor began to shake, and slowly slide together. He looked to either side, and sheathed his blades, realizing how outnumbered he really was. He turned back towards the grimling and rushed it. It stood waiting for him, not moving at all. As he reached it, he grabbed it by the neck and lifted it, and threw it into the fire. It squealed and burst into flame, but the skeletons didn't stop. They were fully formed and completely surrounding him, but not attacking.
He decided not to wait for them. He ran around the fire and toward the next passageway. The skeletons rushed him as soon as he took off. As he ran, he saw two of them cutting him off. His attention was so focused on those two, he didn't notice when a leg bone tangled itself into his feet and knocked him down. In a flash they covered him. He screamed and tried to fight them off. He was lying face down on the dirt floor, trying to push himself up on his arms, as if doing push-ups. All the while, they are clawing him, biting him, and beating him with their fists.
His mind darted. He couldn't die, not here, not like this. It was with this thought he suddenly screamed again. This time, it was not a scream of fear or pain, but a scream of rage. He pushed himself up and managed to get a foot solidly on the ground. He used that leg to propel him out of the pile. Just as he was about to free himself completely, he felt a sharp pain in his side. In his state of mind, he ignored it and pushed out of his head.
The skeletons were still in a pile, trying to get untangled and get up as he staggered to the exit of the cavern. He managed to get into a staggering jog as he made his way down the next passageway, which looked no different from the last. It was then that the pain rushed back to him. He had been ripped to threads. His armor was now all but gone. There wasn't a spot on him that wasn't hurting from a long jagged cut or broken bone. However, his side hurt so much that he barely noticed the rest. He moaned from the pain and stumbled for a moment. One hand reached for the ground to keep him up, while the other went to his right, just under his ribcage. Before it got there, it hit something metallic. His hand rapped around the handle of the dagger, and pulled it out. The pain increased exponentially as he did this, causing him to cry out. He threw the dagger at the wall. Behind him, he could hear the clack of the skeletons' feet. He lifted himself and forced himself to go on through sheer willpower.
He staggered down the hallway in a zigzag pattern. He hurt to much to continue straight. Suddenly, before him, a large tall figure stood blocking the way. His eyes fought to focus on the shape. Suddenly he recognized it as a tall man wearing a robe. A short beard hung from his chin, and the collar stood up around his neck. In his hands, he held a golden staff with a red gem on the top.
"Si.. Sir, thank the gods. You.." Suddenly he went into a coughing fit. "You must help.. me," he barely managed to whisper as the fit subsided.
"Do you have the orb?" the man asked him. The wood elf reached under the tatters of his armor, and pulled out the pink mug-sized orb. It was a miracle it was still there. The man smiled as the wood elf offered it to him. He took it and studied it for a moment. "Ahh, thank you, good wood elf. Your life was worth it, I assure you." The man chuckled and started walking down the passage. The wood elf fell to his knees as he watched the man disappear into the darkness. His strength was shattered, and his will was dead. He heard the skeletons' steps getting closer, but did nothing. There was no reason to run anymore. He knelt, and waited.
"Take it and run! Run, damn you, run!" the barbarian shaman screamed as he threw the pink sphere they had found. The wood elf caught the sphere, and took off running. As he reached the exit of the rocky cavern, he looked back for a moment. He saw his four comrades fighting for their lives, and the fifth one lying dead. All around them swarmed the short, halfling sized grimlings. He saw the shaman look at him, and all at once he gathered his wits and took off running again.
He exited the cavern and entered into a long passageway made of stone. It was almost to dark to see, but every 30 feet or so, a torch hung off the wall and lit only a few feet before it was again suffocated by the darkness. He ran with every bit of strength that he had left. He knew that they must be chasing him. The air was hot and heavy, almost to heavy to breathe. He felt sweat begin to drip down underneath his armor, and over his face.
Ahead of him, he could see another cavern that was well lit. They had come through it earlier. It was full of bones, which were strewn about the floor, and had a great fire roaring in the center. All along the walls, mystic markings had been painted. As he entered the room, the light from the fire forced his eyes to squint, and for a moment he paused. As soon as he was able to open them again, he saw another grimling standing between him and the fire. On the opposite side of the room was the exit. The grimling in front of him had thick black hair that shot out in every direction. It had no armor and looked to be unarmed.
He drew his blades, prepared for an easy fight. He had weapons, and at least a hundred pounds over the grimling, he couldn't lose. As he began to move toward it, it lifted both of its arms and began waving them back and forth while chanting a language he couldn't begin to understand. Suddenly, all the bones on the floor began to shake, and slowly slide together. He looked to either side, and sheathed his blades, realizing how outnumbered he really was. He turned back towards the grimling and rushed it. It stood waiting for him, not moving at all. As he reached it, he grabbed it by the neck and lifted it, and threw it into the fire. It squealed and burst into flame, but the skeletons didn't stop. They were fully formed and completely surrounding him, but not attacking.
He decided not to wait for them. He ran around the fire and toward the next passageway. The skeletons rushed him as soon as he took off. As he ran, he saw two of them cutting him off. His attention was so focused on those two, he didn't notice when a leg bone tangled itself into his feet and knocked him down. In a flash they covered him. He screamed and tried to fight them off. He was lying face down on the dirt floor, trying to push himself up on his arms, as if doing push-ups. All the while, they are clawing him, biting him, and beating him with their fists.
His mind darted. He couldn't die, not here, not like this. It was with this thought he suddenly screamed again. This time, it was not a scream of fear or pain, but a scream of rage. He pushed himself up and managed to get a foot solidly on the ground. He used that leg to propel him out of the pile. Just as he was about to free himself completely, he felt a sharp pain in his side. In his state of mind, he ignored it and pushed out of his head.
The skeletons were still in a pile, trying to get untangled and get up as he staggered to the exit of the cavern. He managed to get into a staggering jog as he made his way down the next passageway, which looked no different from the last. It was then that the pain rushed back to him. He had been ripped to threads. His armor was now all but gone. There wasn't a spot on him that wasn't hurting from a long jagged cut or broken bone. However, his side hurt so much that he barely noticed the rest. He moaned from the pain and stumbled for a moment. One hand reached for the ground to keep him up, while the other went to his right, just under his ribcage. Before it got there, it hit something metallic. His hand rapped around the handle of the dagger, and pulled it out. The pain increased exponentially as he did this, causing him to cry out. He threw the dagger at the wall. Behind him, he could hear the clack of the skeletons' feet. He lifted himself and forced himself to go on through sheer willpower.
He staggered down the hallway in a zigzag pattern. He hurt to much to continue straight. Suddenly, before him, a large tall figure stood blocking the way. His eyes fought to focus on the shape. Suddenly he recognized it as a tall man wearing a robe. A short beard hung from his chin, and the collar stood up around his neck. In his hands, he held a golden staff with a red gem on the top.
"Si.. Sir, thank the gods. You.." Suddenly he went into a coughing fit. "You must help.. me," he barely managed to whisper as the fit subsided.
"Do you have the orb?" the man asked him. The wood elf reached under the tatters of his armor, and pulled out the pink mug-sized orb. It was a miracle it was still there. The man smiled as the wood elf offered it to him. He took it and studied it for a moment. "Ahh, thank you, good wood elf. Your life was worth it, I assure you." The man chuckled and started walking down the passage. The wood elf fell to his knees as he watched the man disappear into the darkness. His strength was shattered, and his will was dead. He heard the skeletons' steps getting closer, but did nothing. There was no reason to run anymore. He knelt, and waited.