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Post by kilnarak on Oct 11, 2019 3:49:54 GMT -6
[ Ari decides none of the alcove items seem worth it. He hurries into the next room, then, panicking a bit, hurries through the door on the right. He does not care to stay in the room with the stone soldiers. He does try to make sure the others don't fall too far behind him, however. ]
Amidst the tightly bound bodies Ari could make out a vial of... something unpleasant looking and a piece of flint on a cord. Neither of the objects seemed useful - the vial might have been a healing salve or potion, but the color of it made him think more of dirty water than anything else and he didn't want to risk it. He left the items alone, drawing back from the alcoves to hurry to the door. A glance back to make sure the others were following instead found his eyes alighting upon the dark... thing coming through the doorway that Hau and Grace had entered through.
"Hurry! It-It's coming!" He hissed to the others after a moment spent frozen, staring in terror at the dark form. It was like a mist, but he could see the glinting edge of something that looked like a weapon. He only waited a moment to make sure the others were moving before hurring through the door and into the next room.
He spared a glance around the room, quickly searching for doors and potential exits. The dark-thing would likely be close behind them, they couldn't tarry. Most of the room seemed filled with statues, armored soldiers - something about them made him uncomfortable. He wasn't sure if the air was thinner here, or if he was only panicking - certainly he was breathing more heavily, his heart pounding behind the heat in his chest.
"This way!" He called to the others, then hurried for the door along the righthand wall - the only one he had seen, though it was difficult to see past the horde of stone soldiers.
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Post by okami1reeka333 on Oct 11, 2019 11:21:59 GMT -6
Jedidiah:
[OOC: he continues to use the fire in himself until he was confident that enough of the venom was nullified via denaturation. To which he would let the room cool his body temperature down back to normal finding it convenient. He does notice the effect of using his fire had on the room. With the second snake gone he would carefully make his way towards the door furthest away from the ornate door to check for traps. All the while carefully checking for traps on the way towards the door. Unbothered by the fangs in his prosthetic heel.]
There was a sense of relief despite all of the fear in him that the snake was at least gone, he didn't miss. . .granted he wasn't fond of the messy pulp on the heel of his prosthetic, or the fangs poking at it (pressure sensors in the prosthetic). . . the deed was done. . .Though this also revealed to him that this was definitely not a dream, seeing he would of definitely felt the wetness of the snake's head contents as well as felt the crunch of it in his heel rather then half way above the knee. .
So kidnapped it was, that's depressing.
Then there was the room. . .how it suddenly grew darker as he seemed to struggle to use his fire to raise his own body temperature, almost as if it was growing more sentient. Malicious. Greedy for warmth as he continued. He gave himself about 5 mins of time to denature the venom before letting the room bring his temperature back to normal levels. Creepy and unsettling as it was, it was convenient that the room did seem to sap the excess heat from him. All the while, he carefully made his way towards the door furthest away from the Ornate Door and checked for traps while he moved.
The thinness of the air reminded him of the mountains. . .though how he was breathing normally earlier, surely it was a side effect of the venom, wasn't? perhaps there was a hallucinogenic property to the venom. Something that caused this. . . though again, the strange feeling? He will need to figure this out later. for now, finding the others as well as the puppy is top priority. . . . .that and trying to not die or kill them off.
He will need to remove the fangs out of the clear rubber padding of his prosthetic foot. . . or any other bone fragments if there are any present. . . Not necessarily because it hindered his movements, but it just felt unsanitary to track blood all over the place. Next time this happens, he might just use the flint and steel to light the torch before just lighting himself on fire. . . .as much of a terrible idea as this was.
maybe whatever was here won't take notice to that as heavily as him trying to warm himself with a chemical fire.
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Post by jarahamee on Oct 11, 2019 11:54:39 GMT -6
[OOC: Cassius briefly examines the crushed and rotting woman, before he tries to capture one of the flabby rats that appears to be carrying something of value.]
Cassius concentrated on footing first and foremost, moving securely through the rubble and the gap. He was strong and fit, despite his age, though hardly a young buck, and he could swear he felt the scrape of uneven stone more acutely than he had any right to. His limbs held his weight easily, as if he was born to move this way, and he climbed with relative ease to the gap.
There was no telling how secure the stone on either side was. It did not matter, because that was where he was going to have to go. He spared the gap another stare before continuing through it. The walls were almost comforting. The pebbles and sharp stone dug into his bare knees. He should be used to this by now.
As he continued the unmistakable sour-sweet smell of decay intensified, and then reached a head. It was an innately nauseating smell to any human, but it was an intriguing smell to the monster he had become, the Beast, or both. Any smell like this warranted investigation, but also spoke of danger.
Cassius held the torch out like a weapon, watching the flesh rats run against the walls blindly, and examined the body, only briefly. Who was this person? Clearly not someone he knew, but the remains seemed old...
Then, he spotted one of the misshapen rats. There were several. They could have anything, including human flesh in them, but something told him it was an item like the potion. He was not sure if it held anything of value, but perhaps, he could obtain something useful from these tiny thieves.
He sprinted after the closest one, and attempted to seize the rat.
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Post by tsukikoko on Oct 11, 2019 15:14:25 GMT -6
[OOC: Sara is not ok with her companions being in this room and hurries everyone as quick as they can go to the door on the right, even though she's pretty certain there's something important about the giant mural somehow.]
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Post by qhostqrowls on Oct 11, 2019 16:16:02 GMT -6
[Faolan is thoroughly terrified of the armoured monster and decides to gtfo. Takes a very deep breath and enters the darkened room, feeling his way along the walls for a door to escape through.]
Relief washed through Faolan as the darkness stayed in the room, when he stepped beyond the threshold. It does not seep out and steal the air as it had before. But it did press in from behind him, and at the rasping breath, he whirled, unnerved, to survey the corridor.
Wide eyes focus on the rubble, and widen further at the sight of the creature clambering blindly towards him, chains trailing, wasted sides heaving beneath an armoured exterior. The sight is like a stab to the heart, a cold terror flooding his veins. He wished - selfishly - that he wasn't alone. It was so much worse like this.
He took a very small, very quiet step backwards as it stood, towering, at the base of the rubble. The air was thinning again. The creature loomed before him, and the room gaped at his back. He knew which one he would rather face. He took three deep, measured breaths, his eyes never leaving the creature. He could do this - was a swimmer, could hold his breath long enough to explore the room.
Witn a final deel breath and a racing heart, he fled into the dark room. The fingers of one hand brushed along the wall as he began to search for a door, an opening - anything. If it was a dead end, then he might as well get on the altar to speed the whole dying thing up. There was a bitterness curdling in his chest, even at the thought. He'd let himself be shepherd into this position, but he could only hope that if there really weren't any exits, that he's be able to lure the creature within and skirt around it and back into the corridor. The beetle room didn't seem that bad, on reflection. Not when compared to the mandibled, lopsided creature standing in the hall.
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Post by Pearl Dragon on Oct 11, 2019 17:14:48 GMT -6
[OOC- Kira doesn't like how unresponsive and yet expectant the idol is. But, she risks getting a little closer, if anything just go look inside and see if anything might be in the mouth.]
Kira watched the shirt sail towards the idol, hands drawn to her chest like a child waiting for something spooky to pop out. She almost wanted something to happen, wanted it to be a trap that would spring harmlessly on the wet piece of t-shirt rather than on her, and then be done with it.
But, to her dismay, nothing happened. The shirt smacked wetly against the edge of the mouth before sliding down from the rim. After that, the air only holds a waiting silence that makes Kira's skin crawl. Something flickers in her peripherals, that same white shape. Kira whined again, a low sound that was more to herself than anything and pushed herself to move a little closer. The water sloshed soundlessly at her waist and she neared the idol with a stretched, 'peering over the edge' way, not quite committed to get right up to it, but enough to look as best as she could into the mouth itself.
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Post by Vaitris on Oct 11, 2019 18:43:58 GMT -6
[OOC: Hau goes with the others. He’s afraid of how far/long the sword-wielding shadow might follow them.]
"Hurry! It-It's coming!"
At the words, Hau rolled his head, trying to get a glimpse of the passage past the bigfoot's broad frame. The door to the altar room was yawning open. Hadn't it closed when they passed through before? He couldn't remember. But creeping ominously past the threshold was a mass of shadow, an all too familiar sight.
He wished this were a symptom of his own, his vision darkening from blood loss, anything else but what it obviously and clearly was. That thing was coming after them, hunting them. There was a flash in the depths of it, a blade catching the vague ambient light just before the trailing darkness blotted it out in a slow sweep forward.
That felt like a direct threat. Hau’s wounds seemed to throb more angrily in response. His breathing and pulse were both rabbit-fast. How far would it follow? If they managed to lose it, would it track the blood trail he had left behind? He didn't want to be hurt again, but more than that he didn't want to see any of the others come to harm. They were doing so much to help him, the thought was almost more painful than the fire of his injuries.
As they fled through a doorway into another chamber, his view of the shadowy thing disappeared but not his fear. Trembling, he held onto the hope that they would lose it in the twists and turns of the tomb.
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Post by Marshmallow on Oct 11, 2019 20:43:19 GMT -6
[Summary: Marche has to hunch over in order to traverse the room without scraping the low ceiling, and cautiously moves toward the odd light and the mural to examine them, still calling out for Ari and Draggo in case there is anyone in shouting distance that might hear. ]
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Post by Sharei on Oct 11, 2019 20:44:49 GMT -6
[OOC: Draggo goes to the right hand door first and opens it, looking inside. If he finds nothing of note he goes to the next door and opens that one.]
The ceiling was falling.
The juvenile's first impulse was to move quickly, a product of Archie's many mazes. Sometimes rooms were timed, leaving Sohl and the juvenile to solve their workings before the traps went off. This was no different, though there didn't seem to be any kind of puzzle, just useless rags and old dust.
The dragon picked up his pace, sparing the ceiling only quick glances to ensure none of it was coming down yet, and threw open the door on the right hand side. He gave it a cursory look, and then goes to the next door to open that one as well. He is looking for anyone else living, or something of note to help him figure out where he is and what's going on. He waits to marvel at his hand's sudden regenerative properties until there isn't immediate peril.
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Post by NightshadeVII on Oct 11, 2019 23:39:31 GMT -6
[OOC: Edge tests the pile of rubble for stability and begins to climb.]
The Darai was relieved to see that there were no creatures waiting to attack him in the hallway beyond, and for a moment, he allowed himself to wonder if this meant it was over. A part of him strongly doubted it, while another part really wanted to believe it.
It would seem that there wasn’t anything of note in the hallway, even though Edge looked it through thoroughly as he walked. It was nice not to see any pustules or burning figures here. He didn’t know if he’d be able to handle one of those on his own.
When he finally reached the pile of rubble where the ceiling had caved in, he took a moment to study it, his gaze eventually landing on the ceiling, wondering if the rest of the roof was unstable as well and just waiting to collapse on him. Like the rest of the hallway it was smooth and bare, but the dim light made it heard to see any eventual cracks or signs of instability. Then came the awful thought; what if this was a trap, and edge stepping into the hallway, would cause the rest of the ceiling to collapse? The Darai shuddered at the thought. Getting buried alive had never been someone he was all too keen on.
Then he turned his attention to the pile again, and reached out, testing it for stability before beginning to climb. Falling and breaking or straining a limb here wouldn’t be good. To have as much control as possible, Edge secured the knife in his belt. Then, with a deep breath, he began to climb, carefully, up the pile of rubble.
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Post by beastly on Oct 12, 2019 13:43:13 GMT -6
Ooc: Grace is carrying Hau, trying to get them the hell out of dodge.
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Post by MP on Oct 13, 2019 2:06:41 GMT -6
All: There is a pang through your chest, like the toll of a bell. Like the crack of an eggshell. A creeping chill runs over your skin, and you sense that something has changed. Something is in here with you.
Ari, Sara, Hau, and Grace: Ari's items: hunting horn, human effigy Sara's items: old spear, rusty knife Hau's items: maned pelt Grace's items: rusty knife The blank eyes of the statues prickle at the group's back. The door inches open, resisting, painfully slow beneath Ari's hands. There's no movement from the door they came from. No sound but the grind of stone and the clink of coins, which spill out between Ari's feet. It seems, pushing into the next room, that they've left the shadow behind. The feeling of airless dark recedes to a creeping tension.
The group is in a massive treasure trove. Ancient coins and jewelry are piled against every wall, heaped around vases and chests and even furniture, glinting even through the gloom. The odd resistance Ari encountered makes sense now; the treasure spills to the threshold of their door, pressing against the it and preventing it from opening cleanly.
The only other door, set in the righthand wall, has already been cleared. It's carved with the image of a monstrous face, fanged and with wide, glaring eyes. The stone looks somehow wrong. The skin crawls to touch it. Standing before it, the heart beats faster, and the breath seems to catch in one's throat.
The feeling might be lost on Hau. His extremities are growing numb. Colder. The makeshift bandaging is already soaked, and his blood drips from the rags in a slow, steady rhythm, staining the coins.
Ari is likewise distracted. He sees a figure, twisted and armored, stumbling toward him. The plated helm and gauntlet seem to be consuming it, held to its skin with teeth and grasping limbs. Its breathing wheezes, almost laughs as it moves down the rubble toward him. A blink. And then Ari sees only the trove. The hallway and the figure within it are gone.
Jedidah: Items: unlit torch, gray vial, scholars note 4, flint and steel Jedidiah's fire continues to burn within him, leeching away the light. The giant can hear the grate of stone from the righthand door, and it seems to compound the dark. The air is black beyond seeing, thick beyond breathing. The opposite door is somewhere ahead, if he can only find it. But The sense of eyes is closing in; the footsteps in the dark are closing in, more felt than seen. He hears the rasp of steel behind him. A pause. A nearing clatter of hooves.
A weight strikes Jedidiah from behind, knocking him off his feet. Hooves and wheels continue over his legs, cracking prosthetics and bone. Then the chariot is past, wheels crashing and horses screaming. The doctor can the crash of wheels, fading down the hall, starting to circle back.
The second chariot hits the doctor a moment later, rushing past instead of over him. This time a spear rips through his undefended flesh. It takes him in the back, stabbing through his gut and into the stone beneath. Jedidiah impaled, bleeding out, and the hoofbeats are coming around again. If he doesn't make it through the door, find something to save himself, death seems inevitable.
Cassius: Items: unlit torch, sturdy rope Cassius doesn't recognize the woman beneath his feet. With the state of her face, half caved in smeared with her own blood, it's unlikely that even her family could recognize her. But her clothes appear to be modern, and Cassius can smell a trace of makeup through the gore. Another victim of the tomb, it would seem, already picked clean.
The rats have taken advantage of his distraction to dash for the door at the end of the hall. They skitter over each other, slipping off the walls, getting in each other's way. They've passed the threshold. But Cassius is fast, and his long legs close the distance in a moment. He snatches for the closest rat - for the vial-shaped bulge in its skin. Only, it's not his hand reaching. There's a scar across the back of it, the fingers dead and useless. His heart is beating like a bird's. He's crawling along on his belly, the tunnel walls so tight that his elbows are pressed to his sides. His scuffling movements echo behind him. Catching up. He can't turn around to look.
Only, that makes no sense. Cassius is still in the doorway, looking in at an empty altar at the center of the room. There are life-sized human statues set in alcoves all around the walls, and the walls are spacious. Open. There is no tunnel, and his fingers are dexterous and strong. The rat pinned under his hand is proof of it. It wails and kicks, its pale flesh sagging and dripping like wet putty in his grip.
Faolan: Items: unlit torch, flint ornament, (healing?) potion As Faolan leaps into the dark, it passes through him. Past him. Sweeping on. For a moment, it almost seems as though there is a figure in it - a concentrated dark. But it continues down the hall like a wave, paying him no mind. The room it leaves behind is full of breathable air, gloomy but perfectly visible. He has a moment to glimpse an altar - glimpse the alcoves all along the walls, each occupied by a life-sized human statue. But the doctor hasn't moved quickly enough.
A clawed gauntlet rakes over his shoulder, clamping around his arm. The creature sucks in a rasping breath through the jaws in its neck. The plating along its arm seems to contract, relax, contract again, a mouth working further up its shoulder. Hungry for more.
The creature begins to tow Faolan closer, clawed fingers digging into his skin. Its bladed arm rises, quivering with frailty - with eagerness - ready to hook and drag in the closest part of him it can reach.
Kira: The mouth of the idol is a featureless pit, plunging straight down into the stone. Shadows pool like water in the opening. Even with her eyes and echolocation, Kira can't make anything out. Still, there's a weight to the dark. An intuition. Maybe it's the sound of air through the opening. Maybe the barest suggestion of a silhouette. Though she can't see it, the burbat is certain that something is lying inside.
The small, pale sliver drifts at the edge of Kira's vision. Edging closer. The two dark spots in its surface - in its face - flatten slightly. Blinking at her as she considers.
Marchelute: Items: falconer's glove, silver chain No one answers the ifrit's calls. The light shines over every column, and it's clear there's no one else in the room. No sounds but the click of his own claws.
Rather than obscure the details, the light casts the immediate section of wall into sharp relief. The mural depicts the ranks of an army facing to the right. Their arms are raised in supplication, their faces upturned. They're watching a pair of figures at the head of the line, crowned, larger than all the rest. The tallest figure, foremost, stands like a bulwark. His blade is lovingly depicted, even the inlay detailed. The second figure is almost a head smaller, judging by the damaged brick. Aside from the stumps of its feet, the figure itself is missing - gouged out along with the stone. The light radiates from the space it would have occupied, strong and reassuring. Sourceless.
Further down the mural, away and to the right, the detail is oddly faint. It's as if the stone wears down - as if the clarity of the room fades the farther it gets from the light. But Marchelute can make out the impression of massive jaws straining towardthe left. Of claws reaching down from the ceiling and up from the floor, a crawling pattern that abruptly ends at the feet of the crowned figures.
It's easier to think here. Marchelute's senses feel stronger. Cleaner. With the light chasing away some of the anxiety, it's easier to pinpoint the nagging feeling in his chest. It's as if there are blips on a mental radar. The ifrit can feel a subtle pull in several directions. The nearest points back in the grit-coated room he came from. The second, more distant, is somewhere beyond the righthand wall. The last leads past the opposite corner of the room and is the strongest pull by far. The awareness of it leaves Marchelute with a cold, sick feeling even through the light.
Draggo: The dragon's glimpses are hurried by another shower of dust. A chunk of stone lands next to his feet, shaking the floor.
Through the righthand door, he sees a long, narrow hallway. A collapse further down, where a section of ceiling has caved in. The dragon can see a small gap at the top where a person could potentially climb over and through. There's no one on his side of collapse, but he can hear muffled footsteps on the other side, hurried, the sound of someone sprinting.
The second door opens to a small room, pitted with long, narrow graves. There are eight around the edges. Four in the center. The dragon can make out pairs of mummies within each one, face to face and packed so tightly that it's hard to tell where one husk ends and the other begins. Their faces are turned down into the soil, as if ashamed of their appearance. And there are bundles in their hands.
A section of ceiling falls. Then another. The ceiling is collapsing, and a chunk of stone strikes the dragon's shoulder, tearing skin and bruising the flesh beneath. If he doesn't make his choice quickly, he'll soon be buried alive.
Edge: Items: simple knife There is a tremor beneath Edge's fingers. Pebbles tip and go clattering down the pile. It's more than the Darai's movement. But it's not from the ceiling either. There's rumbling some distance ahead of him. Muffled. And then, abruptly, silence.
When Edge comes over the rubble, the other side of his hallway is clear. He sees the same bare walls. The rubble spills down the other side in the same dirty slope. But the door - once identical to the one he emerged from - has recently been shattered. A fine cloud of dust is still settling around the remains, and the path beyond it is a ruin. The massive bricks are piled over each other, cracked and leaning. Fortunately, some of them prop each other up, forming tunnels through the fresh collapse. One leads left; the other right. Edge can feel the subtle pull in both directions.
But there is a third pull too. It's back in the direction he came from - the direction his guide was headed. The awareness has been an oily, creeping feeling since they parted ways. Now, as Edge stares down the branching paths through the rubble, it blooms into something cold and sickening behind him.
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Post by Pearl Dragon on Oct 13, 2019 10:25:29 GMT -6
[Kira reaches in! She's going slow, as if scared that touching any part of the stone mouth might trigger something.]
As hard as she looked, even with her night vision, Kira could only see a dark pit inside of the idol's mouth. Even the wet shirt she'd tossed into it was seemingly gone, as if the shadows were physical, and deeper than the water all around her. She wondered if it was actually physical....although she only saw black, she had a strong feeling something was inside of it, just past the dark veil.
The sliver of white moved again, this time a little closer. Kira's eyes flicker briefly in its direction, a frightened expression crossing her face, and she thought she saw two black spots like eyes, peering at her. Blinking at her. She looked quickly away, not wanting to be bothered by it, and instead huddled near the idol. She raised one trembling hand towards the mouth. Pain continued to throb in her jaw, but she tried to ignore it as she made up her mind. With a slow, gentle motion, she began to reach inside. Her heart was racing a mile a minute until suddenly a sharp pain pierced her chest. Kira winced at it, wondering if it might've been the idol causing it, but somehow she thought that wasn't it. Her free hand rushed to her chest as she bent over a little farther like someone who got a stitch in their side from running. A muffled "nnghk..." of discomfort sounded somewhere in her throat, but she kept going even while everything seemed to stab and throb in miserable unison. Water glistened at her eyes, the start of tears as she struggled to keep her body under control as it continued to quake and shiver.
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Post by tsukikoko on Oct 13, 2019 14:08:23 GMT -6
[OOC: Sara tries to get Hau's bleeding under control while they have some breathing room; she asks for Grace and Ari to search the room for something they can use, since there could be something wrapped, or better preserved fabrics in a treasure room such as this. Also if one of them could check the other door since it could be important or a danger they should be aware of.]
She'd lost control of the bleeding.
Even though Sara knew this was all in the design, that they were all supposed to die, that Hau would likely wake up physically whole even if he bled out in this place, it didn't matter. In the moment, with him dying beneath her hands, she did everything she could to save him. But right now, she didn't have enough to work with and he was going to bleed out if she didn't do something. The presence, whatever it was, didn't seem to have followed them into this treasure room. Perhaps she had a few moments.
"Reet, lay 'im down." Her voice remained steady, somehow. "Ari, Grace, could ya look abowt the room, like? See if ya can find a long stretch of material, somethin' I can wrap tight, like." Once Hau was on the ground, or rather, the coins, Sara reapplied pressure with her fist and nearly all her body weight to his most profusely bleeding injury.
She glanced about the room, hoping to perhaps see something useful and spying the other door with cleared coinage around it. A strange sight, in and of itself, indicating someone else had previously been in the space. The snarling face, too, deserved some attention. It made her skin prickle and she wouldn't appreciate it turning out to be a danger they had ignored. "An' if one of ya could 'ave a gander at the other door, like. Might be a safer way owt, or a danger we divvint want tah ignore, given the snarlin', ya know?"
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Post by NightshadeVII on Oct 13, 2019 15:28:05 GMT -6
[OOC: Unable to ignore the sickly feeling, Edge turns around and climbs up the rubble to look at the hallway he came from, if nothing seems immediately out of place, he will climb back down into that hallway.]
Something changed. He couldn’t deny that. It was if the entire place shuddered, rearranging itself and leaving something else behind. Suddenly knowing that there was someone, or something, else in here, but without being able to place what, was unsettling to put it mildly. When would it show itself? When would it attack? Edge stopped for a moment on top of the rubble pile to look around, at once expecting to see something and nothing. All he saw was the latter.
Then he slid down on the other side of the rubble, he saw the two choices ahead of him, left or right, both looking very alike. And on top of that, there was no particularly strong pull in either direction. Either he was going the wrong way, or both ways were equally “good”, if there was such a thing as good in this place. He supposed there was a 50/50 chance of picking a path that led towards the exit, or a death pit. Maybe he should just flip a coin.
Then, the sensation that had been slowly creeping up on him came to the forefront of his mind. He had tried to ignore the oily, creeping feeling, hoping that it would go away the further he got away from that place, but it seemed to be the opposite. The feeling had twisted into something else, something that was much harder to ignore. It had become something sickly, more like a presence than a feeling. A cold, sickening presence that had bloomed behind him and it made the hairs on his neck stand on end. It wasn’t curiousity that drove him to make the decision he did, instead it was a fear of the unknown, a worry that, if this feeling grew any stronger, it might manifest as a physical danger. That had happened before.
The Darai shook his head, sighing. “R’assh, aiq A’dashé...” The curses were softly muttered, whispered even, as Edge looked up at the pile of rubble again. Now that he knew it, it would be easier to climb. He just wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what was on the other side. After taking another deep breath the Darai began climbing to the top of the rubble pile again, quickly, but carefully, wanting to be as quiet as possible, in case anything heard him. Dryly he noted he’d be down for the count for days if he made it out of here.
When Edge made it to the top, he monitored the hall he had come from for a moment, to see if anything seemed wrong or somehow more malicious than before. If nothing seemed odd or trap-like, he’d climb down into that hallway, pulling out his knife.
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