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~ From the Misty Depths ~

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Chuk

Chuk

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A lone warrior scrambled over fallen trees and roots that wound through the cobblestone path. Branches snagged on his pants, grasping twigs snapping as he kicked his way free, and loose cobblestones twisted beneath his feet, nearly dumping him on his face. More than once, a vine actually wrapped around his ankle, pulling his foot towards the forest. His axe did better to chop him free than his sword, and it was after one such sprawl, the cut vine still twisting vainly on the path, that he looked up and first saw the manor. The sight took his breath away. Rising in awe, he made his way up the steps, but before he could grasp the handle, the doors swung wide open, and a voice spoke into the evening.

"Sir," it whispered, like dead leaves scraping over dried flesh. "Sir*"

The warrior's head whipped around, eyes searching for the voice's owner. There was nothing. Just the quiet moaning of a weary breeze and the scratch of dead branches in the trees, just the last purples of dusk fading on the horizon; there was no one, nothing that could have uttered words. But he had heard them. He knew he had, but now he began to doubt. Shrugging his shoulders, he turned back towards the doors that had opened before him.

That they had opened on their own was odd, but the inside of the mansion was odder, stranger than anything he had ever seen on his wondrous journeys through Gielinor. Even if he had no affinity for the arcane himself, he knew its effects, and knew likewise that this manor had magic graven in its timbers, ingrained so deeply that the spells might have come before the boards. Even he could feel it pulsing in his being. He almost did not hear the doors slam shut behind him, and that fact, that he had been so oblivious, grounded him more than the slamming doors themselves. Almost afraid at what he would find, he reached for the handles. The doors did not budge an inch, no matter how he strained.

07-Oct-2011 12:22:49 - Last edited on 21-Jun-2013 10:27:48 by Chuk

Chuk

Chuk

Posts: 14,177 Opal Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
The pulsing seeped back into his awareness, stronger this time, trying to overcome him, and he recognized it for what it was. Laughter, ancient and dark, rhythmic in its rasping drone. The warrior shuddered, tried the doors again, but with no more success than before.

"Sir*"

The voice came again, louder and more urgent. He looked around, trying once more to trace its source. A threatening staircase, old and leaning, boards rotten and twisted loomed before him, disappearing into the darkness of upper levels. A lone flickering torch cast its fitful light through the room, deepening shadows and illuminating a crimson carpet -- clear of dust -- draped along the stairs as if to cover their disrepair. How the torch was lit, the warrior hardly dared wonder; there had been no footprints besides his own on the approaching path.

He took a step towards the stairs, and the floor squeaked. It turned into a wail as his weight shifted, and he cringed, trying to cover his ears through his helmet. Only when he stepped back did the screeching calm, but then he heard the voice yet again.

"Please, Sir… Help me…"

This time he managed to trace its source to a twisted door to his right, hanging slightly open on rusty hinges. He stepped towards it, but that step screeched too, volume only increasing as he leapt from one floorboard to the next. The squeals rose behind him in a haunted chorus, never-ending now that he was away from the entrance. By the time he flung open the door to the next room, he was sprinting, booted feet pounding across the floor in rhythm with the screams. As soon as he was clear, he slammed the door behind him, and leaned against it, panting. But the voice came again, drawing him onward like a moth to lantern.

"Sir…"

07-Oct-2011 12:23:08 - Last edited on 21-Jun-2013 10:27:41 by Chuk

Chuk

Chuk

Posts: 14,177 Opal Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
Three paces -- blessedly silent -- found him at the top of another staircase, more rickety than the first. It disappeared downwards into a black abyss that hid its feet. The warrior hesitated, but that was where he had heard the voice. The first step was the hardest, and his foot fell lightly on the board, his breath held while he waited for it to splinter beneath his weight. It held, and the rest were easier. By the time he reached the bottom, darkness shrouded him, darkness so deep that he could see neither his hand nor the upper end of the staircase. He shuddered, and almost turned back, but the voice came yet again.

"Help me, Sir*"

It was close now, just ahead of him. He moved forward cautiously, one hand held before him. His hand brushed something only once, something that tumbled away with the sickening sound of crunching bone. The warrior stopped and closed his eyes. He swallowed, but thought of the voice calling for his aid. As if summoned, it came again, so close now. A new note entered its summons, not so raspy. Almost clear. And eager.

"Sir* You can help me, Sir!"

He forced himself forward and brushed something that rustled like cloth, but seemed too stiff, too dry. He pulled it aside, revealing a small room, lit once more by a lone torch flickering in one corner. One wall, the one he had come through, was made only of hangings like the one he had pushed aside -- hangings that made him retch. Not cloth at all, but flesh dried and stretched. Some of the skins still had fingers and toes attached. Some still had the shape of warped faces. The warrior barely managed to tear off his helmet before he vomited onto skulls and bones that littered the floor.

"Come now," the voice said, laughing now, pulsing in his soul. "I welcome you into my humble home and you respond with a mess? I thought a fighter such as yourself would have a stronger stomach."

07-Oct-2011 12:23:25 - Last edited on 21-Jun-2013 10:27:57 by Chuk

Chuk

Chuk

Posts: 14,177 Opal Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
The warrior looked up, eyes darting in terror. A shape moved, slipping from shadows in the corner opposite the torch, swaying into the light. She was tall, taller than he, with a face as pale as the moon and beautiful as the stars. Her hair, blacker than any night, rippled to her pale shoulders, almost to her sleeveless sable dress. His terror vanished, and she filled his head, the soft lines of her lips inviting him closer. He dropped to one knee before her, bowing his head.

"My Lady, you called for me."

"Oh yes," she said, her voice not rasping at all. It was beautiful now, full and rich. A voice to make his heart beat faster, with a face and curves to match. "I did. I need you, Sir."

He looked up, drowning in red eyes that gazed back into his own. "Anything, my Lady. I'll help you in any way I can."

She smiled, teeth like tiny daggers shining in the torch's light. Her hand swept out, lifting his chin, exposing his neck. "Very good," she chuckled. "Yes, very good. I have not fed in a such long, long time."

07-Oct-2011 12:23:41 - Last edited on 21-Jun-2013 10:28:05 by Chuk

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