Snippet #2611717

Two weeks ago during the night nearby the camp sight.

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Pravus

The whole camp was asleep, well, all except for him. He always stood on guard for he never slept. He simply couldn't rest, that was beyond him now. He stared out through the darkened woods, between the shadowed trees cut through by beams of moonlight. While the others were shaken by such sensation of failure he was long hardened against such hardship. Still, the question as to why he continued nagged at him from within. Yes, the girl's spirit was entangled however he had long ago buried his vigil as a soldier. Only since being press-ganged into this band of primitive warriors has he reclaimed his old mantle as a soldier. He was a grave digger, he buried the dead. While there were going to be many dead along the path these people walked his role amongst them was widely misunderstood.

Still, he would do as he must to prevent another land from joining the fallen empire in such a fate. If the path he was to walk was with them he would argue not with the whims of fate strange as they may be. Perhaps one day these people would learn a level of civility to end death and suffering for long enough that he may finally finish his work and finally honor his heritage. Everything seemed normal. Not a sign of danger was present near the small circle of worn out adventurers, resting after the death they've witnessed at the hands of their own inexperience.

Or so it seemed.

A rustling through the grass drew his attention, his head whipping over to identify the cause. At first it sounded like little more than the smooth weaving of a snake through the grass but the subtle metallic clinking told a different story. Gripping his spear in both hands, the point aimed ahead towards the direction of the sound as he proceeded a couple cautious steps forward he approached the cause of aforementioned sounds. One of the few downsides of his mask was always the fact that it limited his vision to an extent. Seeing the world through two glass lenses he looked hard to spot the danger but it was much too late. It was beyond his control well before that point.

Suddenly it snatched his own feet out from under him. Metal hooks latched onto his heels, biting down almost like the fangs of a serpent while pulling with irresistible strength. It was all happening faster than he could mentally keep up with as in the briefest of moments he went from standing firm and strong to sliding down the forest floor by his feet. As strong at the chains were he felt almost weightless in the grip of whatever had just seized him.

He swung the spear the bonds which pulled him along but the edge met with the hard, unyielding metal chain links causing no more than a gentle metal clink. "Damnit!" He swore loudly, struggling to liberate his legs from the grips of the hooks which pierced firmly through cloth, leather and flesh, gripping the bone with metal tips that held fast while the chains pulled like silvery tentacles, moving and weaving like living limbs.


All was in vain. He had managed to catch his spear between two trees but the spear snapped in his grasp, failing to event so much as slow his abduction. He quickly looked again for another way to try and escape when he saw it. A small hole in the ground just barely large enough to fit a man down. The origin of the chains appeared to lay down the hole which was where he was being taken at great speed. At that moment a feeling he had long deemed forgotten suddenly swelled up within him. Fear.

No matter what he wanted little more at that moment than to not go down that hole. He let go of the shattered remains of his spear and reached out for something, anything he could grasp which he could use. He struggled to try and free his legs even if that meant ripping them off but to no success. One last second before he was to disappear into the dark pit of unknowable depths. His father's shovel! He yanked it from his back holster and only just managed to hold it out so that it'd catch on the hole horizontally and give him something to hang on to. Just as he was dragged into the foreboding black pit the shovel braced against the sides of the pit and he held tight for dear unlife. Something wasn't right however, less so than it already was.

Rather than continuing to pull at him it was at the hooks which brought him all the way there just suddenly went slack. The only force which pulled at his legs now was the weight of the chains which hung limply from his dangling feet. Just as he was about to pull himself up however something rose up along his arms. More chains snaked their way up his arms, winding their way around his arms before rising away from his hands at the wrist. Each chain was tipped with a hook, five chains to each arm.


From below, how far remaining to be known, a soft chuckle from a gentle feminine voice was heard. It would of been an entirely sweet voice were it not for the mild distortion which overlaid the ordinary voice giving it an unearthly sound. Just as the voice could be heard the chains who's hooks hovered right by his fingers seemed to twist and snarl into the facsimile of a wicked looking wiry hands, each one tipped with claw like hooks. The hand's hooks seemed to dance playfully along his hands, the hooks tracing lines along the back of his hands and fingers until they made their way over the tips of each finger on both hands.

"Stop!" He shouted at the first claws pried both of his pinkies off from his shovel's handle. He tried to resist but the strength of the hooks were incredible, far greater than even an undead like himself could stop. The same repeated itself with each finger as the hooks slowly peeled each of his fingers from his grip on escape from whatever fate lied below, taking their time as though whatever commanded these chains was savoring each moment. Finally he was hanging on by nothing more than his thumbs and index fingers. Most men would have let go around the ring or middle fingers but Pravus's lifeless grip was nothing less than firmer than a set iron manacles.

Nothing was going to stop what was going to happen next. The last pair of hooks tauntingly brushed their tips past the fingertips as though to remind him of his impending fall before going for the kill.

"No!"

With his last fingers pulled free he screamed his last words on the surface world before he fell. He drove his fingers into the dirt in a desperate attempt to claw his way back up but the chains around his feet suddenly regained their vigor, his fingers leaving grooves down the side of the hole as he was dragged down until he faded from view and his voice was no longer audible. Whatever became of him would not be known by mortal minds.

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The following morning.

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The party would wake up to find Pravus no longer amongst them. The hole that was there was there no longer. All that remained of Pravus was his shovel, a few scraps from his cloak hanging upon the trees he was dragged past and the distant sound of rattling chains still echoing from seemingly nowhere.

Still, the quest must continue.

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Present Day

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For her first few days life had been quite a roller coaster of emotions. From the joy yet fear of meeting strangers to the sense of guilt towards the death's of the people down in Appleton and the mix of everything that came after, it was an emotionally exhausting experience to say the least.

She was quite fond of her new paladin buddies. She made efforts to befriend some of the others as well. The more reserved ones seemed less well inclined towards her efforts and the ones that emitted dangerous energies kind of scared her. She really did feel quite bad when the one that seemed to emit a low necromantic vibe disappeared. From the evidence that remained it seemed as though something quite unfortunate happened but no one had managed to determine what the cause might of been.

Across the weeks that they had taken to get there she had already learned so much about the world. Furthermore she had learned a bit more about both divine and standard magic from the few knowledgeable members of the group. She was a good listener and quite eager to explore any venues of knowledge she could.


Ahead of her laid the city of Belmere, an experience unlike any other which wasn't that unusual for her given her inexperience. She knew from discussion with the others that the people would find her appearance unusual so she made sure to conceal herself using a large cloth draped over her like a cloak so as to keep her identity mostly hidden. It still didn't help that her face was green and rubbery and she constantly left a trail of slime wherever she went but so long as she was able to keep to herself she was relatively overlooked.

She overheard her good friend Taethion speaking of staying at a tavern for the night. Sheepishly she slimed her way over to him, shyly speaking up to him. "That sounds quite good. As I understand my kind aren't as widely recognized around the lands as a peaceful species so if... If it's alright with yourself would you speak on my behalf?" She asked, comforted by his holy aura but all the same careful for being in a crowded city was an alien experience for her. Never before had she been surrounded by so many people and deep down she had a bit of a fear of being separated from her only friends and left to try and fend for herself all alone in such a foreign place.