His eyes slowly opened as he lay upon his side, the hem of the tattered old quilt. The pound of his heart beat rythmically in his ears and his breathing was even, almost silent. But he wasn't entirely sure why he had awakened. Most certainly it wasn't morning. The moonlight still filtered through the cracks of the ancient wooden shutters of the rundown inn, spilling small pools of soothing illumination across the floor. Nor was it discomfort. He felt the pleasant softness of the mattress beneath his right shoulder. True, it was old and lumps stuck out in places, but it wasn't the worst of places he had slept.

So what, then? Perhaps a noise in passing? A traveller trudging across the dirt which made up the streets of the village, outside? It was possible, but it wasn't what he felt within him.. and long ago, he had learned to rely on those instincts. Something was amiss.

His hand slid without a sound beneath the quilt, brushing against his dusty travelling cloak and beneath the hem where it found the leather wrapped hilt of the knife. His fingers slowly and carefully curled around it and he slipped it from the leather sheath.

Keeping his breathing even, he lay still in the darkness, waiting. And then he heard it again, the slight shuffle of something moving near the foot of his bed. Where he'd laid his pack, he thought to himself, with ire. Either a would be thief or a hired mercenary out to retrieve.. the item. Not an assassin. For if it were, he would never have awakened, most likely.

One swift motion and he rolled from bed, untangling himself from the quilt, into a three point crouch, the knife held readied before him. His eyes narrowed as he strained to see through the darkness. He sucked in a breath of surprise at.. the thing.. which stared right back at him. Three sets of red bulbish eyes placed atop an almond shaped head, ending in the sharpest and wickedest mandibles he had ever seen. The beast, still stooped over the pack clicked its mandibles together almost gleefully at the crouched traveller.

The beast and himself realized the same thing, no need for stealth. A long rasping hiss as the creature stooped forwards, mandibles gaping open and venemous spittle dripping to the wooden floorboards. "Gaklar come human take from! Human play not? Gaklar not care stinky human want not play!" Those mandibles closed again, almost threateningly as it leaned even further forward onto all eight of those clawed limbs. The moonlight glinted off the armored carapace and again, it spoke. "Gaklar care not." Adding a chiding clicking of its mandibles, "Gaklar play." The last part, an ominous hiss, ended in the beast lunging towards the traveller with lightning speed. The mandibles tore a huge gash from the cloak as he leaped away with equal dexterity.

Before the Aradicas could further react, the traveller, his hood flung down from the direction of his first leap, gathered himself. He sprang from the floor, pushing himself into the air and tucking into a roll, passing inches away from the ceiling of the inn's small room. Several claws limbs flailed up at him, but failed to reach him as he touched the ground at a roll. His form continued to tumble with his momentum, until he crashed into the wall, his shoulder jarring with the sudden impact.

He gritted his teeth and pushed away from the wall as he struggled to rise. Again the creature was upon him. The traveller's eyes shot to the backpack laying overturned by the end of the bed. He could just barely make out the form of the item. If he could only reach it.

His thoughts were interrupted by another set of claws slashing the air where he had been. He hopped backward, slamming again against the wall and in futility, parrying with the knife. An insane giggle from the creature and a single claw arced down towards him. He rolled against the wall, barely saving himself a decapitation as the claw sunk deeply into the wood.

He dived toward the pack as the thing easily freed itself and swung around to charge him. As he hit the ground upon his side, sliding for a distance with the pack, he freed it, clamping it down upon his right arm, lifting it to the airborn shape of his foe coming down upon him.

A bluish explosion of light and sound... a bright flash and the squealing hiss of the spider as it was flung sharply against the far wall, a smoldering crater through the carapace where its chest had once been, a blackish goo beginning to drip from inside and running to the floor as it collapsed with a heavy thud. It moved, no longer.

The traveller breathed a well deserved sigh of relief before removing the weapon which had gauntleted his hand. He covered the item in the sack and gathered himself to his feet. A glance to the smoking hole in the wall, equal to the size of that in the Aradicas' corpse.. he figured it best he move on.

And yes.. the thought as he paused in the doorway, sliding the knife into the sheathe at his belt. He needed to pick up some tea.

~~~~~~~~~~

The door creaked open once again to reveal that hooded face of the youthful traveller he had seen a few times, before. The gnomish smile about the wizened old man broadened as he saw the tea clutched in his hands. "Come in, come in," Charit beckoned to him, motioning him to the chair where he'd often sat, the times he came before. "We have much to talk about, you and I, am I right?" He sat forwards in his chair as though in waiting anticipation.

The traveller smirked beneath that hood but he offered no words, only moved to the seat and deposited the bag of tea upon the center of the table. Charit brushed it aside, a whisper and a chant beneath his breath and the bag faded from sight in a sparkle of light. A faint circular gesture to the table and the teapot and cup appeared as they had been before, the teacup filled to the top with the dark steaming liquid.

The cheerful sage lifted the teacup and saucer to his lips and took a deep sip, before remarking, "Marvelous. Simply marvelous." A faint chuckle as he caught the hint of surprise in the traveller's eyes. Of course, he hadn't seen him use magic until this point. But he should be ready for everything, he mused. He set the cup down and looked kindly at the traveller as though offering him opportunity to speak first.

"The Viparious, wise one," The traveller finally spoke calmly and evenly to the sage. Quite well done, thought Charit, considering the night the man had had. Perhaps he truly would prove useful.

"Yes?" Charit feigned innocence, touching the tips of his fingers together. "I know of them."

"I'm tired of your games, 'wise one'," The traveller spoke, a touch of sarcasm in his voice at the title. Understandable, thought the wizard, under the circumstances.

"Games? Were we playing games, now? No.. As I recall, we were discussing history, when last we met, aye?" A playful glint in his eye as he winked. It wasn't lost upon the man.

The traveller, too, leaned forward in his chair, his elbow propped up upon his knee, fist balled and index finger jabbing the air towards the sage to emphasize each word he spoke, "I was attacked, just this night, by a -thing- which was sent after me. Now I need to know what you know." His voice lowered to an impatience with almost a threatening undertone.

"Everything."

Charit simply smiled, most congenially. He would humor this man, and tell him right what he thought he needed to know. Perhaps only then, would he be satisfied. "Very well," Said the sage. "I will tell you of the creation of Gandoran's finest... " He paused only for a sip of tea, then proceeded with the tale.

"The Viparious...a cruel and uncaring race. They came at the height of the war, when Kz`trall was crushing villages.. the Aradicas breeding rapidly and slaying.. But even with the aid.. the war had drawn to a stalemate. Neither side would gain an inch over the others.. Gandoran needed servants who were so loyal.. so obedient.. that they would sacrifice themselves for the glory of the destruction he would reap. Creatures which would revel in the horror of war.. who would draw pain upon the scourge of mortal men. It was time.. for his finest children... "

~~~~~~~~~~

The sights of the battle amused the sorceror. The man, garbed in the usual black robes of his profession, peered into the surface of the crystal, the scene within, that of a village besieged by an orcish war party. He let a smile slowly creep across his lips, turning to address his minion, the goblin, Skavar.

"I understand you have the creation chambers ready for my.. newest experiment."

The goblin bowed his head quickly, "Yes, great one. The subjects are ready, as we speak."

"Good." Gandoran murmured, the hem of his cloak sweeping against the stone floor of his chambers as he swiftly strode towards the entrance to the creation chambers, the large stone dome where his prized Crystal of Kendora lay situated. It was time. He could feel the anticipation already rising. The gestures he had practiced time and time again. The enchantments he had rehearsed painstakingly. Nothing would go wrong this time. It was all too perfect.

The guardsmen and orcs hurried about the chamber as he entered, not wanting to stand in his way, or anger him. He had been touchy of late, his recent experiments not yielding the results he had hoped for. But he felt.. almost pleasant.

The line of peasants, tied to steel racks spanned the length of the central bridge overlooking the pit. They struggled, many whimpering in fear. Half of them women.. the other half men. Six in total. Yes.. he thought to himself as he strode to the edge of the pit, peering out towards the squirming prisoners.

"Skavar.. I trust you have not botched this one, entirely, as well." Gandoran cast a cold glare down towards the cowering goblin. "Where are they?"

"W-where are they?" Skavar repeated, stammering.

"Yes, Skavar. Where are they?" Gandoran motioned towards the pit. Behind each rack, a second device was held upright, aligned with the victims. It seemed a long pole with a clamp of sorts to the top and bottom. It appeared that this device would fit rather neatly to the back of the racks. "The snakes, Skavar," He said in exasperation. The goblin quickly glanced about.. He motioned towards the far entrance of the room. "They.. are being brought in, as we speak, Great one." Gandoran shifted to look in that direction. His good mood returned almost instantly as he sighted the line of human animal handlers entering the room, each carrying a small cage, bearing within, its precious treasure.

Yes, he thought, soon they will be perfect.. Only a matter of time. The handlers carefully and meticulously extracted the hissing vipers from the cages, manipulating them into the clamps along the pole. The bits pushed forwards, against the racks, much to the dismay of the human prisoners. They voiced their pleas in whimpers for help, that someone would save them. Gandoran could only smile. He took a step forwards, the tips of his sandaled feet overlapping the steep drop into the pit, far below. He held his arms up, to either side and cleared his throat. His voice, when it spoke, was dark, and filled with a sort of.. pride.

"My children. You have been given a great honor... for from the binds of your mortal bodies shall spring life anew... and the purity of perfection. You... shall lead my armies to victory."

Without another word, he turned his eyes back in his head and concentrated only upon the inner voice of truth. The magical powers and energies which surged through him with more fury than a thousand hurricanes. His hair lifted away from his ears, drifting behind him on a slow wind but he tuned out these physical manifestations of his power. This would require no distractions.

He could feel the power of the crystal radiating down upon him as the massive stone doors overhead slid open to reveal the flawless depths. His mind flowed with a sort of intensity rarely felt.. like some powerfully addictive drug.. raw power.

The energy gathered and he felt his arms moving in the gestures he'd trained them to pattern. Felt his fingertips working over the smallest of arcane symbols. Heard the encantment spill from his lips with the fluidity of water.

The wind about him picked up to a deafening roar, swirling about the room. He could feel his blood surging through his veins, threatening to break out, bursting their red droplets into the storm. He heard himself screaming the words now, over the fury. The shouts of fear from his minions. It mattered not. All that mattered was the power at his very beckoned call. He shaped it as he would, drawing power from that souce, up above.. draping himself in its intense fury and warmth. It was all his to command. None could challenge him.

But he felt it seeping from him. The depression as the energies retracted back, his body taking all he could physically stand.

The warmth left him. His arms lowered slowly to his sides. A ragged breath shuddered between his lips, and he simply rested.

His eyes slowly worked their way to peer across the abyss. The faint hope he had held, rose ever clearer. The bodies, once human, had been haloed in a pure crimson glow. Still, it enveloped them like a cocoon. He could see them forming.. writhing beneath the glow.. trying to get out.. wanting to get out. The serpentine necks attached to the human frames, now devoid of any restraints.

He needed to free them. He needed to see what went wrong. He needed to know... A dismissive gesture with his hand and the glow dissipated around each one. The creatures in the center saved themselves from plunging to their deaths far below, pitching backwards on the bridge, recoiling in an astute awareness.

The eyes of two, a glinting green. The eyes of another pair, blue. And the eyes of the third, red. The scales were hued from a deep black, in one, to a dark smooth green, on a couple. Their forked tongues flicked between their lips, tasting the air.

He held in his breath for the longest time, waiting... waiting for the first sign of their stupidity.. their insanity.. whatever it was he didn't do right.

The first spoke, the head craning far forwards, upon the bridge. "Creator.." It hissed. "We sstand ready to sserve you.. We..." A low and hushed hiss. "The Vipariouss..."

A smile formed upon the sorceror's lips. Success!

~~~~~~~~~~

"Hmmm.. I do ramble on, I suppose," Charit stated, the story breaking abruptly as he helped himself to another cup of tea. "And it is late. I am sure you will need to find lodgings for the night."

"No. Do go on, wise one.." The traveller said, almost pleadingly, his interest engorged in this tale.

"I fear that when one is as old as I.." The old sage paused, shaking his head at a thought. "One hasn't the stamina. Well..." He ammended, "Most of us." A chuckle.

The traveller nodded, not wishing to offend.. not now. He stood without a word and bowed his head in respect to the sage. "I bid you good eve.. I'll return, same time tomorrow."

"Good," Charit said, the smile remaining. "I do so look forward to it." The old sage took another small sip of his tea. It was true, to an extent, Charit thought to himself as he watched the lad depart the way he had come in, pulling the solid wooden door firmly closed, behind himself. He -did- look forward to speaking his knowledge to others. But it was his motives.. A slight shake of his head, and he smiled down into the tea.

"Until next time, my friend."

Back to Adventures List (home)

.

.