Chapter 34: Entering Embercore

The sight of the once-grand entrance, now marred by signs of intrusion, sent a cold ripple of unease through each member of the group. As they halted in their tracks, an oppressive silence enveloped the area. The typical sounds of nature seemed muffled, as if the very land itself recognized the foreboding atmosphere that emanated from the shattered gates.

The intricate carvings, which once proudly showcased the dwarves' storied history, now looked vulnerable under the weight of cracks and missing chunks. Shadows stretched and danced with the sinking sun, casting an eerie light that played tricks on their eyes, making the damaged areas appear even more profound and unsettling. The churned earth beneath their feet was a stark contrast to the untouched beauty they had journeyed through, adding to the sense of violation they felt.

For a few prolonged moments, none spoke, allowing the weight of the scene to sink in, accompanied only by the foreboding silence that seemed to whisper of dangers yet unseen.

Captain Brevin was the first to break the silence. "It appears we weren't the only recent visitors." His fingers brushed against the handle of his sword, eyes narrowed as he studied the marks and cracks on the gates.

The group's attention shifted to Elron, the halfling tracker, as he crouched next to the churned earth, examining it closely. The fine details of tracking were an art, and Elron had honed his skills over the years, but the chaotic blend of prints before him seemed to challenge even his seasoned eye.

"These tracks are... perplexing," he admitted, tracing a finger along a particularly deep indentation. "Some of them remind me of the footprints left by Rumblehorn Stalkers, but," he hesitated, frowning, "there are others that I can't place. And they're mixed in such a way that it's hard to get a clear read on what went on here."

Captain Brevin looked at the prints and then back to Elron. "So, we could be dealing with Stalkers and possibly something else?"

Elron shrugged slightly, a rare show of uncertainty from him. "It's possible, but I can't say for sure. We should prepare for various possibilities."

Captain Brevin surveyed the unsettling scene before them, his demeanour clearly reflecting his trepidation. "Serin, Lena," he began, his voice edged with concern, "given these troubling signs and the unpredictability of what might lie ahead, it's best for those without combat experience to stay back. Deo," he added, looking directly at him, "would you be willing to accompany us inside? Your unique abilities might be essential, but I understand if you'd rather stay outside."

Lena's eyes flashed with a mix of worry and disappointment. "Is it that dangerous inside?"

Brevin sighed, pausing for a moment to choose his words. "It's not just the unknown that worries me, Lena, but the very apparent signs of potential danger. The forced entry, the tracks... I cannot yet gauge the level of threat inside. We must proceed with utmost caution. If we find it's safe inside, we'll send word for you to join us."

Elron, casting a protective glance towards Serin, interjected, "I'll stay behind as well. It's vital we have someone on the outside who knows the terrain and can react if things take a turn for the worse."

Deo looked to the entrance, then back to Brevin, determination settling into his features. "I'll go. Pyro and I can provide support, and my magic might offer some unique insights."

Brevin nodded, appreciating Deo's resolve. "Alright, we proceed with caution. Torin, Mira, Deo — you're with me. We'll scout ahead, assess the situation, and if everything is clear, we'll signal the rest. Elron, please ensure the safety of Lena and Serin."

Elron gave a firm nod, positioning himself in a protective stance near the duo. "Rest assured, they'll be safe with me."

With their roles defined and their strategy in place, Brevin, Torin, Mira, Deo, and Pyro slowly approached the battered entrance as they readied themselves to delve into the unknowns of the hold.

The fading light from the setting sun cast eerie patterns on the massive stone gates, causing the intricate runic symbols to pulse with a dimmer, almost mournful glow. As they neared, the sheer scale and detail of the bas-reliefs became even more evident, and the scars of forced entry seemed all the more jarring against such artistry.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Captain Brevin took the lead, placing a hand on one of the cracked gates and gently pushing. It groaned in protest but yielded, revealing a dim, torch-lit corridor stretching on, narrowing slightly as it led to a bend that concealed what lay beyond. The walls on either side were lined with old sconces, some still bearing the embers of recently extinguished torches. Evidence of a recent scuffle was evident on the smooth floor, with marks, scrapes, and scattered debris hinting at prior commotion.

Mira unsheathed a sword, the blade gleaming faintly in the dim light, while Torin loaded a bolt into his crossbow with practiced ease. Pyro moved close to Deo, a soft growling sound emanating from the creature, almost as if to offer reassurance.

The group moved in formation, senses heightened, ears straining for any sound that might give away the presence of lurking dangers. The air within was thick with tension, but also with a musty, age-old scent of stone and metal. Their footsteps echoed softly as they ventured further, descending into the depths of Embercore Hold.

The corridor ahead was steeped in shadows, the only illumination coming from the occasional glimmer of refracted light bouncing off the intricately carved walls. Each footstep reverberated softly against the stone, creating an almost rhythmic pattern that was oddly soothing in the tense atmosphere.

As they ventured further, Deo's stride faltered momentarily, his hand reaching out to signal a halt. He leaned slightly forward, ears straining. "Listen," he whispered urgently.

At first, the others heard nothing but the quiet echo of their own breathing. But as they creeped forward, a distant skittering sound, almost like nails on stone, became apparent. It was a quiet, inconsistent patter, growing steadily louder, soon accompanied by a low, irregular sniffing.

Mira's fingers wrapped tighter around the hilts of her twin swords, her eyes darting in an attempt to locate the source of the sounds. Beside her, Torin and Brevin readied their crossbows, the strings pulled taut with bolts fitted. Deo, feeling unease spread through him, clasped his staff in clammy hands, whilst Pyro prowled close by his side, his fiery eyes eager to see what lay ahead.

As the group continued down the corridor, they emerged into a vast chamber. The expansive floor was made of polished stone tiles, arranged in intricate patterns that likely had symbolic significance in dwarven culture. Massive chandeliers, now partially lit or entirely darkened, hung from the vaulted ceiling, hinting at the magnificence this place once held. Impressive statues of dwarven elders, holding aloft items representing trade, industry, and craft, lined the periphery of the room.

Grand archways on the sides hinted at branching pathways, while vast tapestries, rich in colour and detail, depicted scenes of dwarven folklore, hung from the walls. At intervals, banners billowed gently, showcasing an emblem of a radiant forge, its central flame alive with a dynamic vibrancy, encircled by imposing mountain peaks and underlined by ancestral tools of craft.

Stretched across the vast space were several long stone tables, built from solid rock and bearing ornate carvings along their edges. These seemed designed to serve dual purposes — counters where visitors might be greeted and areas where documentation took place. The weight and craftsmanship of these structures were unmistakable, yet many were now overturned, hinting at a force of great magnitude.

Surfaces that still stood bore remnants of a time before the chaos — ledgers open to pages filled with elegant script, quills neatly placed next to inkwells, and official-looking stamps bearing unique symbols, possibly denoting clan affiliations or trades.

Closer to the group, a smaller table held a model of the hold, each section meticulously crafted. Various paths, chambers, and points of interest were marked, though without knowledge of the layout, its use was limited. This appeared to be a place where newcomers were oriented, given a glimpse of the vast subterranean complex they were entering.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

But the elegance of the chamber was tarnished by the chaotic scene that spread out before them. The floor, once a testament to the meticulous nature of its inhabitants, was now strewn with the aftermath of what looked to be a desperate stand. Overturned tables, chairs, and stands that might once have showcased intricate dwarven crafts or served hearty meals lay discarded and trampled upon. Personal effects, including brooches, rings, and coins, were scattered amidst the chaos, suggesting a hasty and panicked exodus. Disturbing smears of blood and signs of struggle punctuated the scene, adding a sombre tone to the upheaval. The most jarring sight was a makeshift barricade, constructed from a mishmash of furniture, crates, and other debris at the end of the hall. It bore undeniable signs of a violent breach, adding to the palpable tension in the air.

Emerging from behind the debris, a group of creatures moved with a restless energy, their noses close to the ground as they sniffed through the mess. They were jackal-like in appearance but with a few unnerving alterations. These creatures stood taller, about the height of a large wolf, with lean, muscular bodies covered in mottled grey and brown fur. Their snouts were elongated, filled with sharp, yellowed teeth that peeked out even when their mouths were closed.

Their ears were large, almost oversized for their heads, and twitched constantly, picking up even the most subtle sounds. But it was their eyes that were the most striking: a deep shade of crimson that seemed to smoulder in the dim light, always darting around, always searching. Long, sinewy tails flicked restlessly behind them, echoing their alert and ravenous nature. Curiously, patches of their fur were interspersed with sporadic scales, almost reptilian in nature, giving them an added layer of protection and an even more unsettling appearance. Clearly, these weren't ordinary jackals, but something mutated or evolved, perfectly suited for the role of underground scavenger and opportunist.

Darkened Scourge Jackal

Level: 15

Tier: Epic.

Lifespan: Indeterminable due to their unnatural origins.

Diet: Carnivorous. Driven by an insatiable hunger, it attacks and devours anything in its path.

Maturity: Reaches early adulthood at 2 years. Full maturity by 4 years.

Strengths: Keen sense of smell, strong pack mentality, rapid breeding cycle, and resilience in corrupted environments.

Weaknesses: Limited vision in bright light, lower individual combat strength, can be disoriented by loud noises or intense heat.

Behaviours: Unlike typical predatory or scavenger behaviour, the Darkened Scourge Jackal operates with a single-minded goal: to consume. They attack without provocation, and their insatiable hunger makes them relentless in pursuit. Even when not driven by hunger, their inherent malice ensures they remain a threat.

Description: The Darkened Scourge Jackal stands as a chilling testament to the perversion of nature. Its form, while reminiscent of surface jackals, is grotesquely distorted. Mottled fur is splotched with gnarled, armour-like scales, offering both a grotesque appearance and added protection. Its blazing crimson eyes, devoid of any natural life or curiosity, shine with a malevolent light, hinting at its vile origins. These creatures are not merely mutations but are borne from a deeper, darker corruption, making them aberrations in the truest sense. Their relentless need to consume, combined with their aggressive nature, ensures they remain a persistent menace in the cavernous depths.

[XP Gained: 500]

[Congratulations! You've levelled up! You are now level 18]

Before Deo could even shout a warning or fully digest the information, their presence was detected. The jackals' heads snapped up, their chilling eyes locking onto the group. A spine-tingling, raspy growl emanated from their throats, growing in volume and intensity. It was a sound that sent shivers down the spine, one that bore the weight of pure malice.

In an instant, the distance between the group and the creatures closed dramatically. The jackals moved with swift, aggressive movements, the sharp clatter of their claws against the stone echoing throughout the atrium as their mottled fur and scales rippling with each agile step. Their previously methodical sniffing and scavenging were replaced by an unsettling glee, evident in their fervent growls and the sheer force with which they lunged.

Pyro, sensing the immediate threat, let out a massive, thunderous roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the atrium. Flames licked around his jaws as he leaped with surprising speed for his size, meeting one of the charging jackals head-on. The weight of his charge combined with the ferocity of his bite allowed him to clamp down on the creature's neck. The force of his Blazing Bite was such that Pyro's easily pierced through the creatures hide, and in moments, the life was extinguished from the beast, which went limp in his fiery maw.

Almost simultaneously, the twang of crossbows from Torin and Brevin pierced the air. Two bolts shot forth, their trajectory homed in with practiced precision. One bolt struck a jackal in the throat, causing it to gurgle and stagger, while the other embedded deep into the creature's shoulder, sending it crashing onto its side, motionless and defeated.

Deo, with wide eyes, channelled his energy rapidly, pointing his staff towards the last jackal which was nearly upon him. Emerald vines erupted from the ground, animated by his skill Sylvanus’ Grasp. They twisted and curled around the beast, ensnaring it mid-lunge. The jackal, its momentum arrested, was momentarily suspended in the air, its fierce eyes filled with surprise and rage.

Seizing the moment, Mira dashed forward with remarkable agility. The cold gleam of her twin swords, both now unsheathed, cut through the dim light as she closed the distance. With a swift, decisive movement, she struck at the immobilized creature, her blades meeting its form in a flurry of motion. With a series of swift, powerful strikes, she ended the threat of the last jackal, leaving it lifeless on the atrium floor.

[3 x Darkened Scourge Jackals Defeated!]

[XP Gained: 900. Extra XP modifier due to defeating creatures of unnatural origin.]

[Skill Level Up! Sylvanus' Grasp has reached Level 5!]

[Congratulations! You've earned a new title: "Nature’s Champion" for defeating an enemy of unnatural origin. With this title, you gain +25% to all damage dealt to enemies of unnatural origins.]

The savagery of the skirmish, though brief, left the air thick with tension. The rapid heartbeat of the encounter had scarcely passed before the group found themselves panting heavily, taking a moment to regroup. The metallic scent of blood hung in the air, mingling with the faint scent of Pyro's flames. The stillness of the aftermath was palpable, a sharp contrast to the frenzy of moments before.

However, before any of them could truly gather their wits or process what had transpired, a hauntingly familiar sound sent a shiver down their spines. The unmistakable clatter of numerous claws against stone reverberated through the atrium. This time, the sound was more intense, more numerous, emanating from a side passage nearby.

Deo, adrenaline pumping through his veins, hastily approached the side passage. The passage itself was narrow, with walls adorned in fine relief carvings, chronicling dwarven history. Smoothed over centuries, its stone bore the marks of countless hands and feet that once tread its path. Overhead, the crisscross of metal supports and beams hinted at the engineering prowess of its builders.

But now, this corridor of history was marred by the sights and sounds of the impending danger. The twisted, gleeful jackals were closing in, their mottled forms highlighted by the sporadic torches lining the passage walls. Their red eyes gleamed with anticipation, reflecting the flames' glow as they scrabbled eagerly toward Deo. Their snarls and growls echoed in the tight space, amplifying their eerie presence.

Acting purely on instinct, Deo planted his staff firmly on the ground in front of him. As the gleeful jackals drew closer, their warped features becoming increasingly illuminated by the sporadic torchlight, Deo took a deep breath and grasped his staff with both hands, focusing intently on the skill he needed. Channelling as much mana as he possibly could, he activated Inferno Pulse.

Unlike the controlled, refined bursts he had practiced with before, Deo let loose, driven by the urgency of the moment. There was no restraint, no attempt at control. This was raw, primal magic. The flames that surged from the tip of his staff were wild and unrestrained. They began as a deep, consuming red, growing brighter into a fierce orange and bordered with vibrant yellow. The corridor, with its close confines, amplified the might of the pulsating flames. Each rhythmic wave of fire that he sent forth was like a tidal wave of destruction, obliterating the oncoming jackals in its searing embrace.

The once meticulously carved stone walls were now awash in the blinding light of the fire, the relief momentarily illuminated before being scorched by the fiery onslaught, turning the carved history into a living mural of blazing light and shadow. The air itself seemed to combust, filled with the roar of the inferno and the anguished cries of the creatures caught within its wrath. In this moment, Deo wasn't just directing the flames; he was the embodiment of their raw, primal force.

The corridor's air became stifling, the temperature skyrocketing. The billowing flames danced and raged, their heat making the very stone beneath Deo's feet glow a faint red. As quickly as it began, the inferno subsided, leaving a trail of blackened stone and ash in its wake. The once gleaming corridor was now a testament to raw, elemental fury. As the last echoes of the Inferno Pulse died down and the final embers faded, leaving only the charred remains of the passage and the acrid smell of burnt fur, Deo found himself panting heavily, his heart racing from the adrenaline of the moment. The weight of the staff felt heavy in his hands, and his legs threatened to give out beneath him, and his mana levels dipped perilously close to zero.

Before he could process the weight of his actions, a warmth pressed against his side. Pyro, the hellhound, with concern evident in his fiery eyes, gently nudged his snout against Deo's side. It was a tender gesture, one that grounded Deo in the midst of the chaos. The shared connection between the mage and his magical companion was palpable; in that brief moment, Pyro's gesture offered solace and a reassurance that they faced these dangers together.

Deo, feeling a rush of gratitude, managed a weak smile and rested a hand on Pyro's head, the soft, warm fur beneath his fingers serving as a comforting balm to his frayed nerves.

[12 x Darkened Scourge Jackals Defeated!]

[XP Gained: 3600]

[Congratulations! You've levelled up! You are now level 19]

[Skill Level Up! Inferno Pulse has reached Level 4!]

[Skill Level Up! Inferno Pulse has reached Level 5!]