A Conversation
First post yay? :s
The passage way suddenly collapsed, which left the room in complete darkness. Quickly a small flame was ignited, casting a faint glow about the chamber which illuminated two figures standing near where there once stood a grand hall. "Shit," one of the two said, "how the hell did it come to this? Tombs aren't supposed to be like this. Not like some cheap adventure story." The other paid no heed at first to what was said, intent only on finding a way out of this vault.
A sharp scream reverberated off the stone walls from some distant antechamber drew him back to reality. While at first startling, it is nothing the two occupying this forsaken place had not heard before; in fact, more shock came in the fact that another had managed to survive as long as them.
Their only source of light, however, soon began to flicker. Both knew what that meant: the fire was consuming their vital source of air quicker than it could be replaced through the archaic vents that spanned the tomb. The room in all likely hood only had one or two such vents, largely dependent on air from the hall. The hall that had collapsed just moments before. Knowing that any physical exertion would only serve to use the air quicker, both figures eventually slumped against the nearest wall, allowing their minds to wander.
.............................
A wolfdog stands among a group of fellow 'adventurers' a few miles off the road in the middle of a wood, taking a moment to take refuge from the oppressive heat under the shade of some of the ancient trees. The trek from the outskirts of town had been several miles, leaving the wolfdog slightly winded. Comprising the group are a cheetah, red fox, horse, stag, otter, and the same brown grizzly the wolfdog met before, making the troop number seven in total. Among this group, however, there stands a clear outcast: the wolfdog waits sheepishly in a simple leather tunic among half a dozen veteran warriors, many fully clad in armor. Of the remaining six, only the cheetah chooses to wear a cuirass of hardened leather instead of a metallic material. Luckily for the wolfdog, he is also the only one who preferred conversation on a journey like this.
Taking advantage of the short respite, the cheetah quickly approaches the new recruit, and just as quickly strikes up a conversation. During which, the cheetah does all he can to lessen the shock that the wolfdog is experiencing: entering unknown lands not knowing what to expect, walking closer to danger when his instinct screams to flee, and being surrounded by strange beings. After this conversation the closest thing the wolfdog could call a friendship is established before they come upon the entrance of the tomb. Therefore, it surprises no one when the troop are told to spread out that the two stayed obviously close to each other; something that would prove the leading factor in their survival.
While six of the troop spread out to various points in the crypt in order to safeguard against any possible intrusion, the grizzly leader walks swiftly to the center to rob the coffins therein. However, none can imagine what detail had gone into designing the tomb. As soon as the first piece of ancient treasure is disturbed from its resting place, a series of mechanisms had already sprung into action, trapping all inside. It addition to this impressment, in a cruel dichotomy it removed the barriers holding dozens of beasts, releasing creatures of all kinds into the complex, beginning a sick game of survival.
Upon hearing the first scream each member instantly begins to search either for a way out or a defensible location. Showing the nature of those who made up the original group, it quickly becomes every man for himself, excepting the wolfdog, who untrained in the arts of war follows the cheetah, who felt an obligation to look after the youngling.
The two duck into a small alcove in one of the halls in an attempt to gather themselves. Sitting down on a small rock, the first preparation done is to figure out exactly what supplies they carry in their bags. It was difficult to see exactly what they spilled onto the floor in the dim light provided by a few skylights and dying torches, but the cheetah could still see that it was nothing that would help them, careful to make sure the wolfdog catch the direness of their situation. The respite was short lived, the passage beginning to flood with undead creatures tasked with the defense of the tomb. Realizing that the alcove could easily become a death trap if they were boxed in, the cheetah silently leads the wolfdog back into the hall.
Nothing could prepare the neophyte for what he saw next. The hall had seemingly been entirely redone by a sadistic decorator: blood covered the walls, bile stood in puddles on the floor, even entire limbs laid out on occasion. Upon the assault the sights, sounds, and smells launched on his senses, the wolfdog cannot help but vomit. The cheetah noticing this simply told his follower to focus on him and staying alive, all he could do.
The two survive what seems like days in this manner, by hiding whenever they can, only fighting when necessary, though telling time accurately proves next to impossible. However, for every abomination slain, it always seemed two would take its place. The original dozens turn into hundreds, which then turn into what seems like thousands even. By this time the complex had been long overrun.
The two survivors lay in a room under cover of darkness only stirred to action at the sound of the shuffling feet of their captors, their oppressors, their eventual death. They effortlessly fall into a routine that had become all too familiar as of late: search for an escape, prepare a fire for light, and ready weapons. This time however, the cheetah does not follow the wolfdog down the passageway selected for escape. He silently draws his weapons of choice, a hatchet and knife, and prepares for battle. All too aware that his strength had been fading while inside, he had decided to die fighting rather than to starvation. He only need wait for his foe to enter the room.
It did not take long for his wish to be granted, and soon the room fills with the carnage the cheetah let loose. The wolfdog, torn between the terror of leaving his compatriot and setting off alone or joining in his fight eventually chose that he would follow even unto death. The battle goes well for the two at first, slaying many of the creatures; but the flow never ceases, eventually turning into a flood. The wolfdog, seeing the folly of continuing this act, decides to retrieve the cheetah and make an escape, fleeing down a long adjacent passage into a large chamber.
After the two had barely entered the room, where previously stood the narrow passage they followed remained only a heap of rubble, leaving the room in complete darkness. Quickly the wolfdog ignites a small flame, casting a faint glow about the chamber which illuminates the two figures standing near where there once stood a grand hall. "Shit," the cheetah said, "how the hell did it come to this. Tombs aren't supposed to be like this. Not like some cheap adventure story" collapsing to the floor, dropping his tools in the process. The wolfdog pays no heed at what was said, intent only on finding a way out of this vault as he sheathed his sword.
Breaking his concentration was a sharp scream from some far off antechamber. While at first startling, it is nothing the two occupying this forsaken place haven't heard before; in fact, more shock comes from the fact that another had managed to survive as long as them.
Their only source of light, however, soon begins to flicker. Both immediately realize what that means: the fire, their only source of light-and with it the hope of escape-was consuming their source of air quicker than it could be replaced through the archaic vents that spanned the tomb. The room probably only had one or two such vents, largely dependent on air from the hall-which had collapsed just moments before. Knowing that any physical exertion would only serve to use the air quicker, both simply lean against the wall, eventually collapsing; neither willing to extinguish their only source of hope and comfort in the light of the fire.
After a few minutes however, the sound of silence is soon broken by that of quiet sobbing. The recent events, after all that had previously been survived, had proven finally to be too much to bear, causing a breakdown. The mental and emotional strain of being in a terrifying new place not knowing what next to expect, being constantly surrounded by danger with nowhere to flee to, being assaulted by creatures which only wished to kill had at last torn down this last bulwark of survival in the tomb.
Upon hearing this, the wolfdog quietly stands up and walks over to where the cheetah lies and places his arm around him. Starting the conversation this time, he simply said "Hi, my name's Bishop, what's yours?" At this, the cheetah looked up at Bishop and sheepishly replied that his name was Alexander. And the two continue their conversation until finally the fire died.