October\November Vignette

[Flamebird]

The light of the torch flickered as she stepped down the cold stone steps. The door, swung open behind her, lead to the night of Whitevale. Felicity let out a deep, shaky sigh. The burial catacombs were rather unnerving, and not just because of the zombie horror stories people enjoyed telling around campfires. The walls were neatly designed to store bodies in caskets, pulled in and out through sections in the walls. It was unsettling, this place of death. Felicity forced herself to walk down the thin hallway, her mission in mind.

The Monk of Jomil who tended these halls had heard what sounded like scratching within the lower levels of the catacombs. Inadequate in combat, he had called upon the Brotherhood to send someone to check it out. Felicity, a devout of the Thayne Pantheon, had been selected to scout for answers. Wearing her late cousin’s Amulet of Trisgen for comforts sake, Felicity clutched her bow Seeker as she slowly entered the network.

The flames of the torch danced off of the sandstone walls as Felicity ventured into the winding, tight halls. She could smell corpses rotting from within their moldy decomposing caskets. Death. Death was a terror. Felicity felt claustrophobic as she turned a corner, looking down into a wider tunnel, winding downwards with a ramp. The round arc was pitch dark, and the cool air whispered that this was deep and secluded enough, it could harbor danger.

“This is what I came for.” The redhead mumbled to herself as she extended her small arm, using the torchlight as a guide as she walked down. Her boot steps echoed as she paid mind to her magical affinity. Her ability to sense magic would likely alert her to danger before her limited eyesight did. The darker, blacker halls were unaffected by any form of nature, completely isolated from any elements. The walls were as clean as when they were likely constructed; albeit crumbling a bit from mere longevity. These halls were old, likely as old as Whitevale itself. They likely lead to more tombs for corpses, though the reek of death was not nearly as pungent here as up there. Felicity was met with only silence as she trekked on.

Her weapons jingled, and she felt her Thayne trinket bouncing against her chest. Her thoughts drifted to her cousin and uncle, also Thayne worshippers, as she trekked onwards.

The Rhyolite family had been blessed by Hromagh with extra physical and mental prowess in combat. Felicity herself was way beyond human limit in strength and durability. Her cousin had been a beast of a fighter, an honored member of the Coronian Rangers. Like many in their ranks, he had carried this amulet of Trisgen for aid in battle. Jonathan had never forgotten, however, the Thayne that had blessed his kin in the first place. His father, her uncle, Fulcrum, had strayed from the worship of Hromagh and instead revered Jomil, the Thayne of Life and Death.

Death… Both of these loved ones were dead themselves.

Felicity herself honored one of the children of Jomil, Gwenael, who had directly interfered in her life. Felicity was now walking through a mass grave built and kept by a worshipper of Jomil. The question stood – what had disturbed this place enough for the priests to call on the military for assistance?

It seemed as if Felicity’s question would be answered soon enough. Her magic senses were slightly pricked, uncomfortable and prickly. The feeling was distant, but foul. Felicity stopped, dead in the middle of a vacant hall. She raised her torch, aiming it in towards the darkness the magic was coming from. Felicity heard rampant scuttling in the void. Behind her was darkness as well, and Felicity wondered if she could remember her way out. As the rapid tapping ahead grew louder, the magic grew more potent and dreadful as its source drew closer. Soon enough, Felicity saw what appeared to be spider legs moving in the gloom beyond. Felicity looked up, realizing that this tomb of the Thayne had been tainted by a rival Thayne, another child of Jomil.

The creature stepped into the edge of the light, struggling to get any closer.

The chest and head were hominid in design, though the face was stripped of all features. Only pale elvish ears remained. The spider legs were also made of twisted flesh, though clearly warped into an arachnid functionality. This evil creature raised its bony, frail elven arms and extended them, trying to shield itself from the flame’s light. The shadows between it and Felicity rose and waned. Felicity took a step back, daring not to be caught in the shadow.

This was a N’jalian Spidermage.

With the creature struggling against the light, Felicity was able to ask questions. What in earth was this thing doing inside a closed off tunnel system? Did it break in from the outside? Had N’jal herself come inside and toyed with some of the corpses here? Regardless, this disturbing development required fast thinking. Felicity needed to backtrack to the upper catacombs and report this to the priest.

Shining the torch at the groveling abomination, Felicity stepped backwards as she still clenched her talymar war bow. To her dismay, the spawn of N’jal tried to follow Felicity to the best of its abilities. With jerky movements, it stumbled after Felicity as closely as it could without the light bothering it. Felicity was worried about the torch burning out before she reached the surface. While it was nightfall outside, at least the moon would offer dim lighting against this warped creature. As Felicity backtracked to the ramp, however, her magic affinity sparked once again. With dread, she realized that she heard more skidding of arachnid legs.

There’s more than one! Felicity realized with dread. She turned, torch still pointed towards the first Spidermage. A second Spidermage, just as twisted as the first, turned the opposite corner from where Felicity was. It was close enough to the path she needed to go back, Felicity realized it could block her path. Was there sentient reasoning in there? Was there strategy to these things? Or was this the coincidence of animalistic hunters desperate for prey?

Felicity was surrounded. She was unwilling to get too close to both of these things, but she only had one torch to fend them off. Remembering the powerful bow in her other hand, Felicity winced. She needed to be quick.

Felicity turned towards the first Spidermage, tossing the torch directly at it. It was unable to make speech, lacking a mouth, but Felicity could easily see it recoil in pain at the light source chucked at it. While it fled backwards, Felicity plucked one of her redwood arrows from its quiver and turned towards the shadowed Spidermage blocking her path. She let loose the arrow. Seeker's powerful drawback weight, and the incredible strength of the release, were enough to challenge the durability of even these creatures as she heard the arrow pierce flesh. Felicity darted towards the ramp. She dared not retrieve the torch, and risk touching the first Spidermage’s shadow. She passed the corpse of the Spidermage she shot, spotting her lucky headshot as she raced past it. Entering the upper catacombs, her boots pounded, not as fast as her heart, as she tried to remember her way out. The sound of spider legs pattering behind her forced her onwards.

Yet, as she turned the corner, she saw something that made her skid to a halt.

She saw a familiar body. Slumped against the wall, he was lifeless. His military garb was torn, cloak bloodied, as his disconnected head stared up to her on the floor.

“Jonathan!” Felicity shrieked, dropping her weapon. Her tormented screams echoed down the hallway before a heavy slam sounded from behind her. She turned to see a spider leg slammed into the corner wall, another Spidermage emerging from the corner. Felicity whimpered, turned to see that her cousin’s body was no longer there, then turned to the Spidermage again. Tears flooded her eyes as she bolted the other way, unable to realize that what was real or a post trauma hallucination. She was stopped, however, when a thick, sticky substance wrapped around her waist. Spider silk.

“No!” Felicity pushed forward with brute strength, desperate to escape this chamber of death. Another thread of silk wrapped around one of her legs, and she thudded against the stone floor. She reached forward, clawing at the ground, as she was yanked towards the monsters hunting her down. Dread petrified her as her vision went from dark to black.

~~~

Felicity stood in front of a cloaked, shadowed woman. Unaware of her surroundings, Felicity was confused as the woman turned to face her. Felicity had seen her before, knew who she was. Felicity shook her head, hugging herself. “Wh…”

The hazy image of the woman tilted her unreadable head. “Death. Death is a frightening thing to some. Isn’t it?”

Fear was transformed into rage as Felicity stomped her foot on the unrecognizable ground. “Stop! Right now!”

The woman crossed her arms, “What is it?”

Felicity shivered, “What do you want?” Then, the dreaded thought entered her mind. She was in N’jal’s presence. How? Why? Was she…?

The Forgotten One scoffed, “You are not dead. You cannot be. I need you alive if I am to persuade him.”

“Him?” Felicity echoed. More questions than answers were being formed here. She was completely unaware of her surroundings. Bewildered, frightened, and alone, she wondered how she got here in the first place.

”General!”

N’jal remained motionless, “There is one thing he cares about more than anything else. To get to him, I need you.”

”General Rhyolite!”

Felicity grimaced, struggling to understand.

N’jal chuckled, with a strangely warm amusement for someone so dark. “Gwenael, you fool!”

Felicity cried out, “Gwenael?”

”Please! Snap her out of it!”

”I’m sorry. The spider silk…”

N’jal slouched, “I need you. You are the one true weakness he has.”

Discomfort chilled Felicity’s bones as the Thayne raised her hand and shook her finger. “I will deploy all my minions until I’ve caught y-“

-“General Rhyolite, ma’am!"

~~~

Felicity gasped, waking suddenly. The bright morning sky beat down on her as she struggled to adjust to the light. She heard wind blowing, the sounds of leaves rustling. The ground was soft and earthy, and she could taste dirt. Felicity spat, struggling to move as she realized that she was wrapped in thick webbing. The sound of knives working at the bindings rang in her head as she finally processed the blurred images of a forest. Several brown leaves floated in the air as a familiar voice cried out in relief.

“General! You have awoken!”

Fighting the disgust of the webbing in her hair, Felicity turned her head to see one of her commanding officers, Morloth, struggling to free her from the spider silk. Still hazy, Felicity looked up at the dark elf with so many questions, few answers, and asked another one once more.

“Where am I?”

Behind Morloth, slammed against a tree, was the corpse of another N’jalian Spidermage.