A sound echoed in the dank chamber, one born out of exhaustion and a woman’s berated breath. Fatigue drained at her aching muscles, her joints were aflame. Junipor Reign was on her knees, her thick muscular arms hanged on to a small sword pinned to the ground. Her tail wrapped around her feet and legs, while her ears tucked low.
Blood was everywhere, her hands were covered in gore. The entire floor was saturated in crimson. A strong metallic smell tingled her nostrils and overloaded her senses. A haze seemed to pulse in the air itself, especially around the bodies laying around her.
To her right, Sly laid on his back with his entrails pulled out of his torso. His horror stricken eyes were glued to the ceiling. His Aiverix armor was shattered and ground into dust, almost as if a giant had crushed him with a mighty footstep.
To her left, Dunsk laid on his stomach, or at least half of him did. His legs were dangling off an aged chandelier across the hall, Junipor could hear the blood dripping underneath them. What was left of the man painted over the rune inscriptions on the floor like a grotesque tapestry.
Junipor opened her eyes, the sword in her hand was old. Its metal was so rusted it was surprising there was still an edge to it. The leather of the hilt was eaten away, what was left crunched under her grip. A crude copper pommel had been chipped away to a dull edge. None of that mattered, what mattered what what the blade had been driven into.
Trixy laid at Junipor’s feet, the blade ran through her abdomen. The aged warriors eyes were milky white, and her skin was a placid grey covered in bloating pustules. Even the armor she wore was rusted through, as if a sickness of time had devoured it. The veteran warrior seemed to be withering where she laid, exposed bones were quickly fading to an aged orange in real time.
Junipor gasped as she tried to stand, her haggard breathe was full of spittle. A gouge in her side seethed with pain. Dozens of new scratches, and a couple deep scars, covered her arms and legs as she tried to lift herself. Her blood mixed with the others like a decrepit soup at her feet.
“I told you…should’ve let me drain them.” The voice echoed from just outside the chamber. Junipor gripped the hilt of the old blade even harder as she glared forward.
A woman strolled through the shadows, her gorgeous red hair glistened against her crimson robes. She was a creature of ancient myth, and long forgotten legend. Something that didn’t belong in this world. The woman was of a species that Junipor had never seen before. Physically she was short with fertile hips and a womanly hourglass frame. Her thighs were firm and her tummy was fit. She had olive skin with a subtle purple hue, and long red hair that covered her plump breasts.
Junipor struggled to breathe, each lungful of air burned. “You…bitch…” her voice was shallow yet desperate.
The creature looked like a young woman, but something about her decried that notion. Something about her red eyes betrayed her years, when Junipor looked into them she could see a fiercely dominate gaze. The woman had a sharp angular face with hardened cheekbones and a regal nose. Her lips were thin and very pale, but the one thing that stuck out, other than her soft breasts, was her long ears. This made Junipor question the impossible, whether she was of the Elae races of myth? Supposedly they had gone extinct centuries ago, but Junipor never heard of them appearing like this.
The woman approached but wouldn’t set foot on the blood soaked stonework. “This is your fault. They were doomed the second they opened the cauldron. I could’ve spared them this indignity, but you dared to stop me.”
Junipor barely managed to get up on her feet. Her shoulders were so sore it almost brought tears to her eyes. She looked at the creature in front of her, she couldn’t hide the hatred in her voice. “You wanted to drain their souls!”
“And now their souls are eaten away by the pestilence. They will never walk the divine road to the celestial plane, instead they are chained to Kurdlech, the lord of disease.” The woman was quick to answer, as if she had done this too often in the past.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” Junipor’s ears twitched.
The woman’s skin shifted in tone, it seemed to glow a rich purple as she got closer to the infected blood. “I’m actually surprised you remain unaffected, clearly you have remarkable constitution.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Junipor spat in disgust.
“Oh well, the truth is I can’t take the chance. If you are afflicted by the Mouldering Plague, I can’t allow you to leave. Don’t worry it’ll be painless, and your soul will be more than strong enough to help me seal this place again.” The woman took a single step forward, as her feet met the pool of blood, the crimson sap burned and dissipated. “So just hold still.”
Junipor wasn’t about to go down like this. She steadied her breathing as best she could, summoning what strength she had left to try and get away. Just as woman began to approach, Francesca appeared. It was a surge of relief to see the little fox scrambling along the banner of the aged wooded ceiling. Junipor was so happy her fennec had survived, and seemed unaffected by the weird magic of the room. Francesca rushed along the edge of the wall, and then leapt onto the woman’s head with a thud.
“Ouch!” She fell forward, slamming her face against the floor. “Gross!” She gagged as she tried to get up from the blood.
Francesca had jumped off of her head, and onto Junipor’s shoulder. She spat a series of hisses toward the creature as she grabbed hold of Junipor’s aching body.
With the woman distracted, Junipor dropped the sword and ran.
2 days ago
“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” Junipor didn’t realize she was speaking out loud. The four adventurous ran through the Sacred Sands as the massive dust bloom seemed to follow them. The dust storm had spawned from just out of sight, and flourished over the sand dunes with remarkable fury.
“Run!” Trixy screamed as they sloughed through the sands as fast as their legs could carry them. It wasn’t enough.
“What the hell is this thing!” Sly asked, more out of frustration than anything.
“To hell if I know!” Junipor gasped.
“Isn’t that your job!” Sly asked rudely.
“My job? What you think I stroll through the Sacred Sands for fun?” Junipor was finding it difficult answering his probing questions while running for their lives. The sands were catching up, it sounded like a mountain was coming down on them. Just as the heat from the storm graced her shoulders, Junipor’s sharp eyes caught something in the corner of her vision. A small glint of silver that seemed out of place. Time seemed to slow as she focused on that tiny bead of light.
Is that a door? She couldn’t help but wonder. There was no time to think about it, only to react. “This way!” Junipor ushered them to follow her. She half expected them to ignore her, and was surprised to see they followed without complaint. Desperation clearly overruled their objections. They ran until discovering a small rock cliff, at the base of which was a barely distinguishable wooden door with crooked nails. The dust storm behind them was omnipresent, and about to wash over them.
The smell of burning sands stifled her nostrils as Junipor planted her hands on the door, trying together it open. It was sealed shut, and wouldn’t bulge.
“Bash it open!” Junipor jumped aside as Sly rushed toward the door. His scream was just audible above the chaos. With his axe in one hand, he slammed it into the doorway. The wood splintered after one thrust, then bent inward after a another. It took three swings before Sly was able to bash it open, the smell of cobwebs and mildew welcomed them.
For a second, Junipor questioned rushing inside. But the brush of steaming air against her ears disrupted that. The four rushed into the doorway, the sands were quick to follow them. Junipor continued to run, leading the way further inside. Only until they could no longer hear the wind did they stop.
“By the goddess, that was close.” Trixy got on one knee to catch her breathe.
The corridors they had ventured into was pitch black, but her Pharine eyes could see just as well in the dark as during the day. They were inside an ancient structure buried under the granite base of a hill. Dust filled her nostrils, and a sickly spiced odor disoriented her. Sweat clung to her tunic, sand had gotten into places that made her even more uncomfortable. Junipor did her best to ignore the irritating scratch between her breasts, and along the seam of her rear. She had decided then and there, when they got back home she would spend an entire day in the bathhouse.
Junipor sighed, weighing her options. They needed to wait until the storm was spent before they could leave. Until then it would be helpful to get their bearings. “We need a torch.”
“What the hell is this place?” Sly’s attitude was getting on Junipor’s nerves. She regretted finding him attractive before.
“No idea,” Junipor responded. “Never been here before, remember.”
Junipor searched the walls, and was surprised to find an old torch peeking against the stonework. She pulled it free, applied a series of wraps to it and stroke a flint to light a flame. There was no oil, so the fire would be brief. As the fire lit up the corridor, everyone gasped as they beheld the artwork covering the walls. Icons and carvings decorated the stonework with depictions of humanlike figures strangling one another! Some of the figures appeared…wrong as if the artist had been driven mad as he carved those specific beings.
“What the hell is this place,” Trixy voice shook.
“Maybe we should leave…right now…” Junipor could feel sweat dripping down her shoulder blades, the hairs on the back of her neck stood erect. She took a step back as the firelight dimmed, then died. Clinging to her shoulder the entire time, Francesca leaned forward and made a nervous whine.