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Valley of the Dead: Chapter 2 "Home of the sleepless"
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<blockquote data-quote="Myth and Legend" data-source="post: 5735472" data-attributes="member: 82679"><p>Ferviel turns back from his saddle, holding the reigns with his left hand and gesturing with his right as if to ask what's going on. Then points towards the South-East and yells: "HAVING A TEA PARTY BACK THERE? THE POINT OF A RESCUING PARTY IS TO GO AND RESCUE THINGS!"</p><p></p><p>He then shakes his head and turns forward, while all the startled clergy and paladins of Lathander look about with surprise. Lazarus turns back in turn, and smiles apologetically at the newly formed group. Somewhere from the line of mercenaries snickering can be heard.</p><p></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">***</p> <p style="text-align: center"></p><p></p><p>Thok decides to get away from the barn, least these undead prove to be more cunning than rocks. And rocks can be dangerous if they fall on you.</p><p></p><p>He makes his way trough the damp grass, green and yellow sprinkled about, as autumn has made it's arrival known. The half-orcs' keen vision makes out a shape, huddled in the distance, beneath a tree. He approaches to see the elven woman whimpering, her head between her legs. She seems to be muttering something.</p><p></p><p>[sblock=Lórquelië]The last thing the elven Incantatrix saw was the unveiled face of a ghostly female shape, who looked like a young girl dressed in a white robe. She had emerged from the ground right between Lórquelië and Thok. Herriman had been to the left of the elf, but then...</p><p></p><p>She found herself alone, enclosed in the burial chamber of a freshly closed tomb. Eerie green candles shed cold light around her, showcasing the damp stone walls and the still open stone sarcophagus.</p><p></p><p>The Elf got up, and noticed as in a haze that she was with child, her belly full and ripe. It made her slow and sluggish, and she leaned on the edge of the sarcophagus. Inside, she saw her lover - pale, unmoving, a husk where once a man had been. Death was all around her, in the air, in the corpse of her beloved. Inside her.</p><p></p><p>The contractions started, and searing pain tore trough her insides. Lórquelië grasped her belly and slid on the ground, her back against the cold granite of the sarcophagus. Pain and death, and a screaming child an age after that.</p><p></p><p>She opened her eyes - the baby was grey, rotten, its' flesh coming off in big, putrid chunks as she attempted to lift it up. It screamed with a frenzy, both eyes oozing yellow pus. It bit her fingers and she screamed, as the abomination that had come out of her womb started chewing off her index finger. Then she could scream no more, as a hand reached out from above her and grabbed her throat, choking her with monstrous strength, the black nails diving deep in the delicate pale skin...[/sblock]</p><p></p><p>Lórquelië wakes up, huddled and her cheeks covered in tears. She had been leaning against a pine tree, and the first thing she sees is Thok's toothy grin inches away from her face.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Myth and Legend, post: 5735472, member: 82679"] Ferviel turns back from his saddle, holding the reigns with his left hand and gesturing with his right as if to ask what's going on. Then points towards the South-East and yells: "HAVING A TEA PARTY BACK THERE? THE POINT OF A RESCUING PARTY IS TO GO AND RESCUE THINGS!" He then shakes his head and turns forward, while all the startled clergy and paladins of Lathander look about with surprise. Lazarus turns back in turn, and smiles apologetically at the newly formed group. Somewhere from the line of mercenaries snickering can be heard. [CENTER]*** [/CENTER] Thok decides to get away from the barn, least these undead prove to be more cunning than rocks. And rocks can be dangerous if they fall on you. He makes his way trough the damp grass, green and yellow sprinkled about, as autumn has made it's arrival known. The half-orcs' keen vision makes out a shape, huddled in the distance, beneath a tree. He approaches to see the elven woman whimpering, her head between her legs. She seems to be muttering something. [sblock=Lórquelië]The last thing the elven Incantatrix saw was the unveiled face of a ghostly female shape, who looked like a young girl dressed in a white robe. She had emerged from the ground right between Lórquelië and Thok. Herriman had been to the left of the elf, but then... She found herself alone, enclosed in the burial chamber of a freshly closed tomb. Eerie green candles shed cold light around her, showcasing the damp stone walls and the still open stone sarcophagus. The Elf got up, and noticed as in a haze that she was with child, her belly full and ripe. It made her slow and sluggish, and she leaned on the edge of the sarcophagus. Inside, she saw her lover - pale, unmoving, a husk where once a man had been. Death was all around her, in the air, in the corpse of her beloved. Inside her. The contractions started, and searing pain tore trough her insides. Lórquelië grasped her belly and slid on the ground, her back against the cold granite of the sarcophagus. Pain and death, and a screaming child an age after that. She opened her eyes - the baby was grey, rotten, its' flesh coming off in big, putrid chunks as she attempted to lift it up. It screamed with a frenzy, both eyes oozing yellow pus. It bit her fingers and she screamed, as the abomination that had come out of her womb started chewing off her index finger. Then she could scream no more, as a hand reached out from above her and grabbed her throat, choking her with monstrous strength, the black nails diving deep in the delicate pale skin...[/sblock] Lórquelië wakes up, huddled and her cheeks covered in tears. She had been leaning against a pine tree, and the first thing she sees is Thok's toothy grin inches away from her face. [/QUOTE]
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