Into the Darkness
Berrant wheezed, there was great quantity of dust caught in his throat. He heard whispering voices, then silence. Everything was in pitch black. He moved to wipe his forehead, when he realized that his hands and feet were bound. The dwarf, perhaps not the most intelligent fighter, was now very angry.
"Moradin's Hammer! Where in his great brown earth am I?" he asked, almost to himself.
"Quiet stunty! We will tell you only what we wish!" Guttural voices screeched in common.
At the edge of his dark-vision he could see five goblins, talking in a hushed huddle. Luckily Berrant spoke bit Orc and Goblin, although he couldn't hear them speak, he tried to piece together sentences through reading lips.
"Found him... half-dead...dark...blood...prisoner" said one.
It was then that Berrant noticed the blood oozing down his forehead. This was just getting worse. He continued his lip reading attempt.
"What do... do!?" one shouted.
The guttural goblin language was difficult enough to understand when you heard it. Berrant could only decipher pieces of it.
"Kill... food!" another replied.
"Flesh tough...covered...dust...blood!" the first one seemed angry.
A cough from the largest goblin silenced the group, he appeared to be the leader. "We send... Gruusmsh... gain favour...One-Eye!"
The other goblins yelped in agreement, merely the sound of those shrieks sent shivers down Berrant's spine. He struggled with his bonds, if only he agile like that blasted halfling! He finally decided on his usual conclusion which often fit any situation. This, like every other situation he had ever faced, required brute strength. He steeled his body, squinted his eyes and began to strain against the bond. The veins in his neck bulged blue, a low grunt emanated from his throat. The coarse ropes of the goblins began to stretch. The dwarf pulled harder. Slowly his bond's split, the goblins in the far off circle did not seemed to notice, he would use this to his advantage. He took in his surroundings. He was in a large cave, littered with animal corpses and furs piled into what appeared to be a giant bed, the goblins probably lived here. He could see his urgosh lying discarded in the corner of the cave. He quickly untied his feet bindings, and a miracle for a dwarf, slowly made his way towards the urgosh. His heart beat wildly, he was sure it's sound, which was throbbing unabatedly in his ears, could be heard for miles. Still, he stepped carefully towards his goal. He was ten feet, five feet. He could almost reach it, his fingers grasped for it's handle when a high voice piped up.
"Hey, where's the stunty!?"
- - - - - - - - - - -
The waves of blackness slowly faded away like the ebbing of a great black ocean. Something hurt, a throbbing pain in his lower chest. Rabid groaned. He opened his eyes. and groaned again. He couldn't see; he was either struck blind, or lost in the pitch black without a torch, neither sounded very promising. He took a minute to take in his surroundings, he was facing downhill, he knew that from the sound of water trickling down the gentle slope. He knew that the uphill passage was blocked by that massive cave-in. He could not remember, how long had he been lying here? His chest heaved painfully.
"Blood and ashes!" he muttered beneath his breath, "the bloody dwarf is only quiet when you want to find him!"
With no other choice he started to head downhill, hoping to come across another from the party, there was strength in numbers. There couldn't be many places to go in a one-way mine. His chest gave a painful throb which sent Rabid keeling to his knees, he groped at his chest, and groaned for the third time in a minute. His chest was a mass of blood. A large piece of slate had imbedded itself there. Wee-Jas smiled not on him today. He whispered a quick prayer to her, followed quickly by a curse as pulled the hunk of granite from his chest. He untied the piece of cloth which wound it's way up his leg, ending at his loose breeches, and wrapped it around the gushing wound. He couldn't do much to tend to it in the dark. He continued forth, moving as quietly but quickly as possible. His toe stubbed something in the dark, and he was flipped head over heels, he caught himself in a handstand, and flipped back to his feet, wheeling. Something groaned, a familiar sound to him by now.
- - - - - - - - - -
Corran had just been ripped from a pleasant dream, he rolled over groaning, someone had just kicked him in the chest.
"Where the bloody hell am I?" he muttered.
"Where you wish you weren't" he heard a crisp reply from the darkness.
Something reached out from the darkness and pulled him to his feet..
"Are you alright?" the voice inquired.
"Oh Rabid, thank Boccob!" Corran finally recognized the voice, "what happened, I just remember, darkness, the Darkmantles came, then ceiling was caving in, then more darkness" Corran raced through his shattered memory, trying to discover what had happened.
Rabid looked at him concernedly, "You have taken a blow to the head, you cannot remember properly." Corran felt someone wrap a bandage around his head. Corran was still reeling in shock, he had not felt the blood coming from his head.
"Burn me! What happened?" Corran was still struggling to remember.
Rabid finished the bandage "First we need to find out how much memory you lost, sit down."
Corran felt ridiculous speaking to the darkness, he did not trust anything he could not see, smell, and touch. He knew the power that illusions could weave.
"Give me your hand." He demanded.
Rabid recoiled "Don't you trust me?"
Corran desperately groped for his spell components, he was getting more and more nervous.
"Yes, yes I trust you my friend, I'm sorry for offending you."
His hand closed over a bag, he opened it. A trickle of light came from it. He reached inside, finding a small piece of phosphorescent moss, still glowing slightly. Within seconds he had muttered the words to the only spell he could cast with such a component.
"What are you doing fool!?" however this voice was not that of Rabid, it was twisted enraged voice.
Light shot out from Corran's fingertips, revealing everything within several feet him. He blinked at the sight in front of him.
"Blood and ashes!!" he cried.
- - - - - - - - - -
Drake woke groaning. He cursed, he was in what halflings called "perfect darkness". He heard a voice.
"It's funny thing these days, that people leave their things lying around."
An arm scooped the halfling up.
"It's also funny how people steal those things without asking" Drake retorted.
Somewhere in the darkness, Rabid laughed.
"Unless I am mistaken, you were to bear the torches?" Rabid inquired.
The halfling reached into his pack, which miraculously had not been lost in the scuffle. He struck flint and steel, and soon had a torch lit. Drake stepped back as the mine shaft flared to life. The oppressive stone walls seemed solid enough, if not drear. When he was not busy hiding from someone from whom he had "borrowed" something, Drake enjoyed flouting flamboyant tunics and leggings. His eyes swept over Rabid.
"Wow, I don't remember that happening!" Drake pointed the large gash in Rabid's chest.
"The funny thing is, neither do I," Rabid laughed "and you seemed to have gotten away unscathed!"
Drake shrugged. "It's part of being a halfling, we have much better reflexes then you clumsy humans."
Truthfully, Drake was just happy to find a friendly face in a black hole like this. A shout was heard echoing up from somewhere far down the tunnel. The echoed like a thunderclap.
"BY MORADIN'S HAMMER!"
"Looks like we found the dwarf!" Drake laughed, drawing his crossbow.
Pushing his beaded hair from his face, Drake slowly made his way down the passage. He was sure there was some old adage which warned against it, but nonetheless he handed Rabid the torch.
"I prefer not to be seen before I can see my enemy. Watch my back"
With that he turned, and moved silently into the swallowing darkness.
Berrant wheezed, there was great quantity of dust caught in his throat. He heard whispering voices, then silence. Everything was in pitch black. He moved to wipe his forehead, when he realized that his hands and feet were bound. The dwarf, perhaps not the most intelligent fighter, was now very angry.
"Moradin's Hammer! Where in his great brown earth am I?" he asked, almost to himself.
"Quiet stunty! We will tell you only what we wish!" Guttural voices screeched in common.
At the edge of his dark-vision he could see five goblins, talking in a hushed huddle. Luckily Berrant spoke bit Orc and Goblin, although he couldn't hear them speak, he tried to piece together sentences through reading lips.
"Found him... half-dead...dark...blood...prisoner" said one.
It was then that Berrant noticed the blood oozing down his forehead. This was just getting worse. He continued his lip reading attempt.
"What do... do!?" one shouted.
The guttural goblin language was difficult enough to understand when you heard it. Berrant could only decipher pieces of it.
"Kill... food!" another replied.
"Flesh tough...covered...dust...blood!" the first one seemed angry.
A cough from the largest goblin silenced the group, he appeared to be the leader. "We send... Gruusmsh... gain favour...One-Eye!"
The other goblins yelped in agreement, merely the sound of those shrieks sent shivers down Berrant's spine. He struggled with his bonds, if only he agile like that blasted halfling! He finally decided on his usual conclusion which often fit any situation. This, like every other situation he had ever faced, required brute strength. He steeled his body, squinted his eyes and began to strain against the bond. The veins in his neck bulged blue, a low grunt emanated from his throat. The coarse ropes of the goblins began to stretch. The dwarf pulled harder. Slowly his bond's split, the goblins in the far off circle did not seemed to notice, he would use this to his advantage. He took in his surroundings. He was in a large cave, littered with animal corpses and furs piled into what appeared to be a giant bed, the goblins probably lived here. He could see his urgosh lying discarded in the corner of the cave. He quickly untied his feet bindings, and a miracle for a dwarf, slowly made his way towards the urgosh. His heart beat wildly, he was sure it's sound, which was throbbing unabatedly in his ears, could be heard for miles. Still, he stepped carefully towards his goal. He was ten feet, five feet. He could almost reach it, his fingers grasped for it's handle when a high voice piped up.
"Hey, where's the stunty!?"
- - - - - - - - - - -
The waves of blackness slowly faded away like the ebbing of a great black ocean. Something hurt, a throbbing pain in his lower chest. Rabid groaned. He opened his eyes. and groaned again. He couldn't see; he was either struck blind, or lost in the pitch black without a torch, neither sounded very promising. He took a minute to take in his surroundings, he was facing downhill, he knew that from the sound of water trickling down the gentle slope. He knew that the uphill passage was blocked by that massive cave-in. He could not remember, how long had he been lying here? His chest heaved painfully.
"Blood and ashes!" he muttered beneath his breath, "the bloody dwarf is only quiet when you want to find him!"
With no other choice he started to head downhill, hoping to come across another from the party, there was strength in numbers. There couldn't be many places to go in a one-way mine. His chest gave a painful throb which sent Rabid keeling to his knees, he groped at his chest, and groaned for the third time in a minute. His chest was a mass of blood. A large piece of slate had imbedded itself there. Wee-Jas smiled not on him today. He whispered a quick prayer to her, followed quickly by a curse as pulled the hunk of granite from his chest. He untied the piece of cloth which wound it's way up his leg, ending at his loose breeches, and wrapped it around the gushing wound. He couldn't do much to tend to it in the dark. He continued forth, moving as quietly but quickly as possible. His toe stubbed something in the dark, and he was flipped head over heels, he caught himself in a handstand, and flipped back to his feet, wheeling. Something groaned, a familiar sound to him by now.
- - - - - - - - - -
Corran had just been ripped from a pleasant dream, he rolled over groaning, someone had just kicked him in the chest.
"Where the bloody hell am I?" he muttered.
"Where you wish you weren't" he heard a crisp reply from the darkness.
Something reached out from the darkness and pulled him to his feet..
"Are you alright?" the voice inquired.
"Oh Rabid, thank Boccob!" Corran finally recognized the voice, "what happened, I just remember, darkness, the Darkmantles came, then ceiling was caving in, then more darkness" Corran raced through his shattered memory, trying to discover what had happened.
Rabid looked at him concernedly, "You have taken a blow to the head, you cannot remember properly." Corran felt someone wrap a bandage around his head. Corran was still reeling in shock, he had not felt the blood coming from his head.
"Burn me! What happened?" Corran was still struggling to remember.
Rabid finished the bandage "First we need to find out how much memory you lost, sit down."
Corran felt ridiculous speaking to the darkness, he did not trust anything he could not see, smell, and touch. He knew the power that illusions could weave.
"Give me your hand." He demanded.
Rabid recoiled "Don't you trust me?"
Corran desperately groped for his spell components, he was getting more and more nervous.
"Yes, yes I trust you my friend, I'm sorry for offending you."
His hand closed over a bag, he opened it. A trickle of light came from it. He reached inside, finding a small piece of phosphorescent moss, still glowing slightly. Within seconds he had muttered the words to the only spell he could cast with such a component.
"What are you doing fool!?" however this voice was not that of Rabid, it was twisted enraged voice.
Light shot out from Corran's fingertips, revealing everything within several feet him. He blinked at the sight in front of him.
"Blood and ashes!!" he cried.
- - - - - - - - - -
Drake woke groaning. He cursed, he was in what halflings called "perfect darkness". He heard a voice.
"It's funny thing these days, that people leave their things lying around."
An arm scooped the halfling up.
"It's also funny how people steal those things without asking" Drake retorted.
Somewhere in the darkness, Rabid laughed.
"Unless I am mistaken, you were to bear the torches?" Rabid inquired.
The halfling reached into his pack, which miraculously had not been lost in the scuffle. He struck flint and steel, and soon had a torch lit. Drake stepped back as the mine shaft flared to life. The oppressive stone walls seemed solid enough, if not drear. When he was not busy hiding from someone from whom he had "borrowed" something, Drake enjoyed flouting flamboyant tunics and leggings. His eyes swept over Rabid.
"Wow, I don't remember that happening!" Drake pointed the large gash in Rabid's chest.
"The funny thing is, neither do I," Rabid laughed "and you seemed to have gotten away unscathed!"
Drake shrugged. "It's part of being a halfling, we have much better reflexes then you clumsy humans."
Truthfully, Drake was just happy to find a friendly face in a black hole like this. A shout was heard echoing up from somewhere far down the tunnel. The echoed like a thunderclap.
"BY MORADIN'S HAMMER!"
"Looks like we found the dwarf!" Drake laughed, drawing his crossbow.
Pushing his beaded hair from his face, Drake slowly made his way down the passage. He was sure there was some old adage which warned against it, but nonetheless he handed Rabid the torch.
"I prefer not to be seen before I can see my enemy. Watch my back"
With that he turned, and moved silently into the swallowing darkness.