Caverns of Blood ~Awakenings~

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DwMcAliley
Posts: 53
Joined: Wed Jul 04, 2012 10:02 am

Caverns of Blood ~Awakenings~

Post by DwMcAliley »

Fiorn stood before the mouth of Shame, his entire body trembling. He almost felt as if he were being dragged physically toward the deep, dark opening. A quick glance at his feet showed that they were still firmly planted in the grass and leaf litter of the surrounding forest. He knew he must enter the dungeon, but every fiber of his being resisted, fought and held out as long as he could against the summoning.

But slowly, that resistance was breaking down. He was compelled by magic older than the bones of the very mountains he stood before, and he could not break it. Painfully, grudgingly, he took one agonizing step after another....closer and closer to the entrance of the dungeon. That cavernous maw seemed to smile at him as he drew near, the unnatural way the light failed to penetrate even the threshold sent shivers up his spine.

Fiorn had spent years in that dungeon, in the deepest depths of the mountain, suffering at the hands of his Master. Here he had been changed...corrupted.... turned into something other than the man he had been....something darker. He had known pain like no mortal before him, and he did not relish returning to that prison.

But he had no choice.

As the darkness swallowed him, Fiorn thought he felt the light brush of a woman's fingers on his neck, and he heard the briefest hint of sultry laughter.

The blackness inside was complete. For a short, panicked moment, Fiorn fumbled for the potion that would give him sight...and then he found it. He unstoppered the bottle and drained the foul concoction in a single gulp. As the magic elixir worked through his veins, the darkness around him lifted slowly, and he was able to see.

Before him, close enough to touch, towered a massive Earth Elemental. The faceless creature of soil and stone seemed to peer at him, its craggy head tilted slightly to the side. It was a look of pondering that was unsettling in such a normally dense monster. Finally, after a moment, the elemental made a sound deep within like the rumbling of boulders falling down a mountain, and it stepped out of Fiorn's way.

As much as he hated it, Fiorn moved into the deep, twisting tunnels of the dungeon. He passed more earth elementals on his way, but these barely seemed to notice his presence. They did not have the discerning, contemplating gaze of the sentry at the entrance. Fiorn shuddered as he thought about what eyes may have been seeing him through that monster's consciousness. Even the scorpions that approached him drew near, and then skittered away into the recesses of the dungeon. Fiorn was bound, both by the blood summoning and by a magic deeper and darker than any of these denizens of the dark had ever encountered. They felt the power of it washing off him in waves, and they cowered from it.

In the lower levels, Fiorn passed swirling air elementals, columns of walking fire, and even clouds of poisonous vapor that moved with purpose and power. Efreets howled in their walled prison, clambering to escape and devour anything they could touch. And finally, Fiorn entered the lowest levels of the dungeon, where the stench of old and corrupted blood hung thick in the air. These blood elementals were the most powerful and the most terrifying of Shame's natural occupants, but even they moved out of Fiorn's path as he approached.

Before him rose the black stone walls of the Dark Lord's keep. Two sentries stood on the wooden bridge as he approached, and they sneered at him as he passed. Their glowing red eyes held no spark of life, and no light of intelligence, only the deep and twisted hatred they served. Fiorn pitied them. He was a worm, and he knew it. But at least he was still a man.

Suddenly, the door to the keep burst outward in a shower of smoking splinters and chunks of charred wood. Fiorn threw himself to the rough wood planks of the bridge as a massive set of hinges whistled over his head. There, in the doorway, stood the Dark Lord himself, his power rolling off him in visible waves of utter blackness. Rage seethed across his milky pale face as his eyes fell on Fiorn. WIthout moving his glance, he twisted the fingers of his right hand, and both sentries fell dead.

"So, my hound has returned," The Dark Lord grated in a deceptively soft, but rasping voice, "When I send a dog out in search of prey, I don't expect him to return empty handed. Such dogs are beaten."

"Master, I had no--" Fiorn began, but the Dark Lord fliked the little finger of his left hand, and pain exploded in Fiorn. It was a pain unlike any he had ever experienced before, or since. Only the Dark Lord could punish someone like this, reaching to crush their very soul in the palm of his hand. Fiorn tried to cry out, but found he had no breath in his lungs, and could only wheeze as he spasmed uncontrollably on the bridge.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the pain subsided, and Fiorn lay panting and exhausted. The Dark Lord towered over him.

"You speak when you are told, dog," The Dark Lord rasped, "Or have you forgotten who your Master is?"

Fiorn pressed his lips tightly together and shook his head vigorously. Even the compulsion of the summoning wasn't enough to force him to brave that pain again. The Dark Lord smiled, a dreadful sight, and knelt to stroke Fiorn's head.

"Good, pet," The Dark Lord grated, and then he froze, his eyes burning with intensity as he clasped Fiorn's head in both his hands, "I feel a power here, deep and ancient...a blood summoning! That spell has not been invoked in many ages in these lands. What treachery is this? Speak! Or by the Darkness I'll flay the flesh from your living bones!"

Fiorn whimpered, and trembled uncontrollably, but he managed to deliver his message, "Master, Zeddar has awakened. Zeddar walks again."

What little color there was in the Dark Lord's face seemed to drain, and his eyes widened. Then, just as suddenly, the Dark Lord's lips pulled back in the tight white line of a snarl, and growled, "You LIE!"

Fiorn was ripped from the bridge and hurtled through the air. A sharp pain in the back of his head and a blinding flash of light marked where he impacted the stone wall of the dungeon. He slumped to the ground, briefly knocked unconscious. When the pain brought him back awake, the Dark Lord was there, towering over him once again, his face twisted in a mask of rage, hatred, and barely concealed fear.

"I was there, dog," The Dark Lord said, "I watched as that Wizard spent his life's blood in a spell to consume my master and me. My master died, but I escaped. Barely."

The Dark Lord threw open his robe, exposing the charred, cracked flesh of his chest...flesh that still oozed and seeped black blood, "This is the token that Wizard left me in his death, so I know you lie."

Fiorn shook his head, trembling uncontrollably, the tears streaming down his face, "I swear it! I swear he lives," Fiorn stammered, "I don't know how, but he lives!! And he remembers. He remembers his past lives....remembers my betrayal. He called me by name... my true name.... and used it to invoke the summoning."

The Dark Lord snarled again and bent, one hand the color of a maggot darting out to seize Fiorn's throat and lift him easily into the air, crushing his larynx slowly. Fiorn had to struggle harder and harder to breathe, and his vision was going black, when the Dark Lord suddenly frowned. He dropped Fiorn, and bent close, inhaling deeply through his nose as if trying to catch a scent. Just as sudeenly, the Dark Lord straightened, threw back his head, and roared with laughter.

"So," He rasped at last, "Fate is dancing her dance once more....she thinks this Wizard can destroy me? We shall see. I can dance as well..."

Fiorn coughed and sputtered, and when he could finally speak asked, "Should I kill him, Master?"

The Dark Lord chuckled softly, his rage subsiding at last. "No, dog," He grated, "This prey is beyond you. I will deal with him. But killing a man is nothing...any cutthroat can do that. I will destroy him. I will take everything he holds dear, and I will break him. In the end, he will beg to be my servant before I feast on his soul."

The Dark Lord grinned an evil grin, "For now, you are to complete the task I set you to before. Find the one they call the Watcher... Ascher Kraw.... and bring him to me....alive."

Fiorn nodded, reaching out to clutch at the Dark Lord's feet, "Yes, Master. I won't fail you again. I swear it."

The Dark Lord bent so that his face was directly before Fiorn's. "See that you don't, dog. Or I will make you twist in eternity and pray for a thousand deaths to release you from your torment. Now....gggooooooo...."

WIth the last, lingering word, the Dark Lord opened his mouth and a wave of darkness washed over Fiorn. He felt himself drifting, weightless, until at last his eyes fluttered open. He lay on his back in a clearing, trees surrounding him. The sun was high in the sky, though the wind was cold. Mountain peaks rose into the sky around him, capped with snow, but they were different from the mountains around Shame.

Fiorn stood slowly, his head spinning. As he looked around, blinking, he began to convince himself the whole ordeal had been a nightmare, some fiendish dream brought on by too much ale and too little food. Then, a blinding, searing pain erupted in the back of his mind, and his Master's voice echoed in his soul, "Never forget who's hound you are..."

Fiorn cried out, and fell to his knees. As he balanced on the edge of unconsciousness, he thought he heard a woman's laughter..... Then, the darkness took him.

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