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Message: <blockquote data-quote="I'm A Banana" data-source="post: 2150572" data-attributes="member: 2067">"Someone light a torch!"Pelor, but it was cold! Her hands stumbled on the oiled rags, half-numb and damp. There was a clinging mist in the air, cutting through her robes and her armor, chilling her to the bone and slowly soaking her clothing."Rothgar, can you see anything?""Nay," said the deep-voiced dwarf, closer than she expected. He was staying close to the group. That was unlike him. He was a paranoid little thief, always wary of others picking his pocket. He was too agitated to worry about it now. "The mist is too thick."The halfling sorcerer Bobkin bumped into her leg. "Atroika, why is it so cold? It's summer outside...we're underground...there's frost on the ground and walls here, I can feel it..."The priestess held the unlit torch in one hand, and gave Bobkin a reassuring pat with the other. "Don't worry, half-pint. Whatever it is, we'll figure it out. We're heroes, after all. We saved the whole city from that pyromancer!" She struck the torch and warm, golden light burst out, lighting the silvery mist around them. The four were close together; the farthest away was the gnome barbarian who was scouting ahead. He was a distant shadow in the mist."Odelay!" Atroika called. The shadow jerked slightly. "You okay, man?" The grunt was affirmative.She stood up, the tallest member of the party, shining her light as deeply into the mist as she could. She sniffed the air, and smelled the smoke from the torch flow into her lungs. She gave a small cough. "All right, gang, let's...." she stopped. Her eyes went wide. Her hand went to her chest.Rothgar looked askance at her. "Wussamatter, lassie, eat a bad burrito?"Her scream pierced the cave in all the ways that the light from her torch didn't. She dropped it, bringing her hands to her chest, grasping, ripping, tearing, coughing, screaming...she was having trouble breathing. Her scream was chocked off, suddenly. Bobkin looked up at her, wide-eyed, as the torch sputtered out into a puddle at their feet, seeing the wide terror and surprise in her eyes, smelling the smoking torch. There was a ripping noise, a cracking, a tearing. Rothgar let out a yowl. Something was swung through the air. Bobkin ducked, going low to the ground. There was a fight going on. Odelay rushed in just as Rothgar uttered a loud, terrified gasp of panic. His breath came ragged, and then stopped. Odelay was swinging at something too. He said something. He called it back at Bobkin. But the noise of the clanking armor and weapon on stone and water muffled it. He understood, though. Something bad was happening, he had to get back to the entrace of the cave. He had to come back with more power. He ran.Sweet Boccob, where was it? Where was the entrance? Left? Right? Was it up here, or down? He seemed to have gotten turned around in the mist...oh no, he was deeper in the cave. No, no, no, this was bad, this was really bad...Okay, get a grip, Bobkin. You've got the blood of dragons in you, why should you be affraid of a little darkness and mist? Breathe deep. Concentrate. Let the power well up within you...Bobkin took a deep breath, and smelled smoke. Odd. The torch was a couple of hundred feet of paniced running behind him, and extinguished besides. Something else must be burning...he coughed a little bit. A bit of phlegm was caught in his throat. He took another deep breath to dislodge it.He screamed as he felt claws rip into his insides. Oh, Gods! It was inside of him! His breath came faster, but he could feel it ripping away, chiseling out great chuncks, tearing through lung and esophagus. He tried to tear at his chest, open a hole, let it get out. OH GREAT MOONS, IT WAS RIPPING HIM APART! He coughed once, trying to force it out, to dislodge it from inside of him, to get it away from his heart, his lungs, his life...it was at the edge of his chest, right behind his sternum, and in one great burst it had ripped it's way out. Bobkin's vision was blurry. The numbness of exquisite pain had washed over him. He saw his ribcage outside of himself. He saw his blood pouring out through the tear. He saw a pair of bloody claws floating in front of him, a pair of beady eyes, but nothing else...he couldn't breathe anymore. There were no lungs to take in air. His last breath had been stolen, and he could still smell the smoke....-- BELKERS are frickin' terrifying --</blockquote>

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