Alamandra Vonn Pravus
Dungeon Spirit
The ill-prepared explorer had dived into the gaping hole in the desert, severely lacking in supplies. The waning light of his torch illuminated his problems that had been hidden a few hours earlier by the infinitely beautiful call of something deep in that sandy abyss, the shifting tones of the song activating something buried deep inside his mind. Now stranded in an alien world of tan that stretched out in twisting tunnels before him, he realized how stupid he was. The song had simply ceased; it had served its purpose as an irresistible lure. There were sirens in sand as well as water.
The first creature that emerged from the numerous hidy holes dotting the ground and walls was a surprise. The adventurer had expected some foul beast dripping with blood, fangs bared, but instead he was knocked aside by a hissing rush of pale white skin that extended for meters and meters. The hit was strong, strong enough to crack his armor. His side felt like it was burning, red hot wax on a body coated in cold sweat. Scrambling backwards, he found himself against a soft sandstone wall, and heard a rumble. The dodge was moments too late.
Diving underneath the worm, it still managed to whack him on the head with its surprisingly heavy body. For a moment, everything was fuzzy, but then he drew his sword and plunged it into the beast. There was no sound except the sounds of a man and his sword at work, and the air was heavy with the smell of copper, like an abattoir on a hot summer day. Slick dark blood seeped into the sand.
But the worm didn’t stop, and it looped around like a full body sized noose, constricting the man. The armor broke easily, the man slightly less. The burning was now unbearable, a relentless flame on all sides. The song had come back, louder than ever, and his vision was turning purple. There was the sensation of relief as the pressure disappeared, and a mirage appeared before him, an illusion of a female in front of him. On unsteady legs, he stumbled forward, and too late did the song stop, and he saw the purple tail, and there was nothing.
((wrote this up in 7 minutes, pretty bored.))
The first creature that emerged from the numerous hidy holes dotting the ground and walls was a surprise. The adventurer had expected some foul beast dripping with blood, fangs bared, but instead he was knocked aside by a hissing rush of pale white skin that extended for meters and meters. The hit was strong, strong enough to crack his armor. His side felt like it was burning, red hot wax on a body coated in cold sweat. Scrambling backwards, he found himself against a soft sandstone wall, and heard a rumble. The dodge was moments too late.
Diving underneath the worm, it still managed to whack him on the head with its surprisingly heavy body. For a moment, everything was fuzzy, but then he drew his sword and plunged it into the beast. There was no sound except the sounds of a man and his sword at work, and the air was heavy with the smell of copper, like an abattoir on a hot summer day. Slick dark blood seeped into the sand.
But the worm didn’t stop, and it looped around like a full body sized noose, constricting the man. The armor broke easily, the man slightly less. The burning was now unbearable, a relentless flame on all sides. The song had come back, louder than ever, and his vision was turning purple. There was the sensation of relief as the pressure disappeared, and a mirage appeared before him, an illusion of a female in front of him. On unsteady legs, he stumbled forward, and too late did the song stop, and he saw the purple tail, and there was nothing.
((wrote this up in 7 minutes, pretty bored.))
