Celia's eyes darted to and fro, looking for an exit from the cleansed Den. All routes seemed blocked by fire and debris. Corpses turned to stone in the light of day and fallen rocks blocked the way. She struggled hard to remember her youth, a dark time of which she did not like to think. She recalled leaving the encampment with her friends, the girls giggling as they followed loosely behind their guide... She furrowed her brow, trying hard not to think about Raven or the other girls and focus on her predicament. She remembered coming to the caves and staying overnight. It had seemed so safe and benign back then. Now it harboured nothing but bad memories and a rotting death.
"Help me...." murmured the Necromancer, his wide eyes staring at his arm. The wound looked bad, but Celia had been surprised by the healing powers of Akara's potions before. She had seen many amazing things accomplished by the magic of the sisterhood, many good, many horrific.
"It will sting a bit, but the pain will soon be gone," she said, trying to make eye contact with the Necromancer, get his mind off his arm and onto something else. "You have to hold still, though, or it could be wasted."
With that, she opened the vial and began to slowly pour it on the damaged skin. She had felt it heal burns before, though less severe, and knew that the sensation was less than comfortable. It would fade shortly, but she did not doubt that he was in agony. As the red liquid came in contact with his burned flesh, it began to hiss and bubble. She could tell he was getting antsy, but already his flesh was starting to regenerate itself.
"Just remember to hold still. Here," she said, pouring all but a little of the potion on his wound, "why don't you drink the rest of this? Do some of the work from the inside."
As the explosion reverberated through the narrow dank cave, a wave of heat washed over the group. Celia darted forwards, into the heatwave, bow raised and arrow ready. As she approached the injured necromancer, she fired at a charging beast, it's scaly green skin illuminated in the light of many small fires now lining the cave as pieces of fallen burned. Her arrow sailed true and struck the beast in the back of it's hideous throat as it lunged forward, aiming for a bite out of Algranon.
"Here," she said to Anagra, holding out a red vial. "This will heal your burn. Hold out your arm and I'll pour it on for you."
"There are as many evil spirits here as there are cracks in the wall."
The Rogue turned to Tregan as she moved up beside him, the flaming arrow readied on her bow providing some semblance of visibility. She peered into the darkness beyond as she spoke;
"These lands were once used as a burial grounds for the wicked many many centuries ago, before the sisterhood came here. This cave likely held the bodies of countless criminals, murderers, and dark sorcerers. Now, as the evil spreads, it re-awakens those lost souls to battle with the living. If we can find the source of their resurrection, some ghoul or barrow-wight that continues to motivate their attacks, then perhaps we can open the moor once again to my sisters."
"Why stain anything but the ground?" quipped Celia as she moved up beside the Barbarian, bow raised.
On the end of the bow perched a single glowing arrow, shining dimly in the light. The Rogue closed her eyes and adjusted her aim, clearly deep in concentration. A moment later, the fleeing fallen seemed to glow as well, with the same hue and intensity as the arrow. Confused by their sudden change in appearance, they huddled together, expecting another attack.
"Wrong move."
Eyes still shut, she fired the arrow. It flew through the trees and struck the first fallen between the eyes. There was a release of energy, creating a sound not unlike the crack of a whip, and the little demon flew backwards, skewering himself and the other two creatures against the tree behind. As their glow faded, the Rogue opened her eyes and turned back to the group.
"We must make way to the Den quickly. The sky will stay dark even into day and with no permanent defenses, we don't stand a chance outside. At least down there the monsters generally only come from one direction."
Before the band's leader could respond, the unsuspecting group found themselves plunged into the heat of battle. Celia raised her bow again, this time aimed into the dark woods beyond. She could hear the others entering the fight and concentrated, staring into the darkness in search of the familiar shapes of the Blood Moor. The walking dead, the fallen demons and their shamans, the dreaded wendigos and, worst of all, her corrupted sisters. She had fought them all on occasion and each battle had left their scars - mental and physical - but every time she had learned. Learned to be faster, stronger, more cunning.
Her trained ears picked up the sound of a snapping twig and before she could think about it, her aim adjusted and the arrow fired. The familiar yelp of a dying fallen, it's throat freshly skewered, rang out.
There was a pause, and a rustling in the trees. Out of nowhere, a single rogue woman dropped from the branches above into the circle of light and looked around at the group. Her eyes were intense, but the rest of her face showed concern.
"Don't worry, I won't do you any harm. The rogue you're looking for... is me."
She stepped closer to the dying fire. It was clear from her worn appearance that she had not seen much sleep or hospitality of late. She appeared somewhat dazed and jittery, her eyes darting back and forth between the members of the party and the dark woods beyond.
"The Den is a dangerous place full of terrible horrors. I've seen many potential heroes lose their lives to the evil that resides within in a vain effort for glory and swag. My name is Celia. I have made it my sworn duty to protect the sisterhood as best I can but, on my own, there's only so much I can do. Your party may be the first that has any hope of cleansing the den, and if Akara has sent you, then I will show you the way to the Den of Evil."
"We can see you and have you heavily surrounded. As I speak, thirteen archers have their bows pointed at your heads ready to strike at the first sign of trouble! I want each of you to step into the light of the dying fire. Whoever your leader is, tell us your purpose here. If it is not a foul one, perhaps we will not need to kill you.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
To post a comment, please login or register a new account.
"It will sting a bit, but the pain will soon be gone," she said, trying to make eye contact with the Necromancer, get his mind off his arm and onto something else. "You have to hold still, though, or it could be wasted."
With that, she opened the vial and began to slowly pour it on the damaged skin. She had felt it heal burns before, though less severe, and knew that the sensation was less than comfortable. It would fade shortly, but she did not doubt that he was in agony. As the red liquid came in contact with his burned flesh, it began to hiss and bubble. She could tell he was getting antsy, but already his flesh was starting to regenerate itself.
"Just remember to hold still. Here," she said, pouring all but a little of the potion on his wound, "why don't you drink the rest of this? Do some of the work from the inside."
"Here," she said to Anagra, holding out a red vial. "This will heal your burn. Hold out your arm and I'll pour it on for you."
"There are as many evil spirits here as there are cracks in the wall."
The Rogue turned to Tregan as she moved up beside him, the flaming arrow readied on her bow providing some semblance of visibility. She peered into the darkness beyond as she spoke;
"These lands were once used as a burial grounds for the wicked many many centuries ago, before the sisterhood came here. This cave likely held the bodies of countless criminals, murderers, and dark sorcerers. Now, as the evil spreads, it re-awakens those lost souls to battle with the living. If we can find the source of their resurrection, some ghoul or barrow-wight that continues to motivate their attacks, then perhaps we can open the moor once again to my sisters."
On the end of the bow perched a single glowing arrow, shining dimly in the light. The Rogue closed her eyes and adjusted her aim, clearly deep in concentration. A moment later, the fleeing fallen seemed to glow as well, with the same hue and intensity as the arrow. Confused by their sudden change in appearance, they huddled together, expecting another attack.
"Wrong move."
Eyes still shut, she fired the arrow. It flew through the trees and struck the first fallen between the eyes. There was a release of energy, creating a sound not unlike the crack of a whip, and the little demon flew backwards, skewering himself and the other two creatures against the tree behind. As their glow faded, the Rogue opened her eyes and turned back to the group.
"We must make way to the Den quickly. The sky will stay dark even into day and with no permanent defenses, we don't stand a chance outside. At least down there the monsters generally only come from one direction."
Her trained ears picked up the sound of a snapping twig and before she could think about it, her aim adjusted and the arrow fired. The familiar yelp of a dying fallen, it's throat freshly skewered, rang out.
"One down..." she said.
There was a pause, and a rustling in the trees. Out of nowhere, a single rogue woman dropped from the branches above into the circle of light and looked around at the group. Her eyes were intense, but the rest of her face showed concern.
"Don't worry, I won't do you any harm. The rogue you're looking for... is me."
She stepped closer to the dying fire. It was clear from her worn appearance that she had not seen much sleep or hospitality of late. She appeared somewhat dazed and jittery, her eyes darting back and forth between the members of the party and the dark woods beyond.
"The Den is a dangerous place full of terrible horrors. I've seen many potential heroes lose their lives to the evil that resides within in a vain effort for glory and swag. My name is Celia. I have made it my sworn duty to protect the sisterhood as best I can but, on my own, there's only so much I can do. Your party may be the first that has any hope of cleansing the den, and if Akara has sent you, then I will show you the way to the Den of Evil."
"We can see you and have you heavily surrounded. As I speak, thirteen archers have their bows pointed at your heads ready to strike at the first sign of trouble! I want each of you to step into the light of the dying fire. Whoever your leader is, tell us your purpose here. If it is not a foul one, perhaps we will not need to kill you.