Part Two

A storm brewed overhead, casting the world in the stark, staccato light of lightning as Zeni found herself dancing the fine line between life and death. In the throes of this desperate waltz, she barely evaded the savage sting of a scorpion-like creature, the air humming with the force of its venomous strike. She landed gracefully, her heart a furious drumbeat, her chest heaving as she prepared to face the assembly of one-foot tall scorpion monsters that barred her path to the dungeon entrance. Each breath became a calculated, precious thing, stolen from the jaws of fear that threatened to consume her.

With a fluid, elegant motion, Zeni called forth Breath of Shu, bending the wind to her will, and sent one of the monstrous scorpions careening into a nearby boulder. The creature's exoskeleton splintered and fractured beneath the impact, its high-pitched death wail a song of worship to Zeni's growing power. Though she was still far from mastering her abilities, she had come a long way since her first harrowing encounter with the minor sphinxes.

The three remaining scorpions closed in, tails poised and dripping with lethal venom. Zeni's eyes flicked between them, calculating and reassessing her strategy in the ever-shifting sands of battle. Recklessness was a luxury she could not afford, for her powers were not yet robust enough to see her through a prolonged conflict.

As one of the scorpions lunged towards her, Zeni's hand found the reassuring weight of the weapon she had unknowingly helped forge alongside Aken: the slender handle crowned with a razor-sharp ten-inch blade. Though she was far from an expert in its use, the weapon lent her a measure of confidence and security in the face of her foes.

The scorpion's attack fell short as Zeni sidestepped with practiced grace, countering with a torrent of water that slammed into its side. The creature skittered across the ground, momentarily incapacitated, and Zeni seized the moment to plunge her blade into its soft underbelly, snuffing out its life before turning to face the next threat.

She retreated behind a rocky outcrop, using it as a shield against the relentless advance of the scorpions. The air crackled with energy as she summoned the Ignition of Ra, and unleashed a searing, white-hot blast that incinerated one of the creatures in a brilliant display of divine wrath. The last remaining scorpion, its body slick with water, locked its beady eyes onto Zeni, its predatory focus unwavering.

Zeni leaped from boulder to boulder, a ballet of evasion and counterattack, her weapon and invocations interwoven in a deadly confluence. As the battle crescendoed, she felt the familiar surge of adrenaline that accompanied the heat of combat. With a swift incantation, she called upon her newest advancement, Geb’s Splinters. No longer limited to just Sands of Geb, this was an invocation that birthed a flurry of small, razor-sharp rock shards that tore through the scorpions like a merciless hailstorm. When the dust settled, the creatures lay broken and lifeless, their once-menacing forms rendered immobile and defeated.

As she surveyed the battlefield, her gaze fell upon her own arm, where a shallow, crimson gash marred her flesh. The wound was a stark reminder of the ever-present threat that the scorpions had posed, as well as the perils she would surely encounter within the depths of the dungeon. A thin rivulet of blood traced a crimson path along the gentle curve of her arm, its meandering course a symbol of the blood she had shed in her pursuit of victory.

“Shit,” she muttered, seeing the blood pool up. “Ow, ow, ow, ow!”

With gentle hands, Zeni reached into her worn pouch, retrieving a small vial of healing salve that Hesira had made, its contents glistening like the morning dew upon a verdant meadow. The glass container, delicate as a butterfly's wing, held within it the promise of solace and reprieve from the pain that gnawed at her arm like a ravenous beast.

Carefully, she uncorked the vial and applied the soothing balm to her wounded flesh. As she did so, a sensation of warmth spread across her skin, as if the healing touch of a loving mother had been distilled into the very essence of the salve itself. The throbbing pain that had once tormented her began to ebb away, retreating beneath the gentle caress of the ointment's curative embrace.

Before her very eyes, the angry gash began to close, the torn edges of the wound knitting together as if guided by an unseen hand. The healing salve worked its wonders, the very air around her seeming to hum with the magic that imbued the mixture.

With her immediate injuries tended to, Zeni took a moment to appreciate the beauty that still persisted amidst the desolation. The sun's dying rays cast the horizon in a kaleidoscope of brilliant hues, as if the heavens themselves had taken up a painter's brush and used the sky as their canvas. The desert sands, which had borne witness to her struggle, glistened like a sea of molten gold, their delicate grains ever shifting.

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“It looks like straight-up Photoshop,” she breathed.

The few hours she had spent traversing the rugged terrain, guided solely by the enigmatic instructions imparted to her by Neith, her trip thus far had been rough.

“You’re lucky I trust you so much, Neith,” she continued speaking aloud. When her mentor had given her the route, she’d been a little concerned. How was she supposed to navigate on her own when she’d really only lived in the village for the last few months? However, she’d eventually made it, and of course, she was immediately accosted by the scorpions. Now she only had a little bit more to go before reaching the dungeon’s entrance—a sight she was very much anticipating.

As she continued forward, her thoughts strayed to the familiar faces and warm embraces of those she had left behind. Especially Yasmine and Basim. The laughter of her two friends echoed in her ears like the soft melody of a distant lute, their smiles etched into her memory like the delicate brushstrokes of an artist's canvas. She’d left them just today, in the early afternoon, prepared for her sojourn with tearful goodbyes and well-wishes. Her two friends would not be able to join her for this, they had duties in the village—despite Basim’s desperate oaths that he could shirk off his responsibilities. But, even more so, Zeni wanted to have a go at this alone. It may have seemed foolish, but since the festival had ended a few days ago, she’d had time to think about that. She’d also had time to make a visit to another party and learn more interesting information about her future dungeon delve.

The portrait of her village life tugged at the corners of her heart, its absence leaving an indelible void within her. It hadn’t been more than a few hours, but it might be days before she would make her way back to see them again.

Yet, with each stride she took further from the comforting embrace of Kephri's Rest, Zeni felt a deepening resolve, a burgeoning determination that blossomed within her like a desert rose amid the arid sands. She knew that this was a journey she must undertake, a path destined to shape her future and reveal the hidden truths that lay shrouded in the mists of the unknown.

And so, with a heart both heavy and hopeful, Zeni pressed onward, her spirit alight with the fire of purpose.

She'd dressed in her array of appropriate dungeon-wear, and had even brought along a little something extra to give her courage - the silver scarab beetle the wanderer Rashek had given to her was pinned proudly on the shirt under her light leather armor. It glinted in the rays of the sun as if to announce to the world that she was ready to get down to business. Her entire gifted get-up filled her with a sense of security and calmness as she plodded forward, seeking her quarry.

Then, finally, she saw it. After months of suspense and exhaustive training, she found herself bearing witness to the magnificent entrance of the dungeon. Zeni’s breath caught in her throat at the sight that greeted her. Carved into the side of a massive, weathered cliff, the entrance was a towering archway adorned with intricate hieroglyphs that seemed to shimmer and dance in the moonlight. A palpable sense of ancient power emanated from the stone, filling Zeni with reverence.

As she approached the threshold, she was struck by the weight of the countless stories and legends that had been born within the depths of this dungeon. She knew that she was about to partake in a tradition as old as the cultures of the very desert themselves, older than some, even. It was also a comforting reminder that this was the initial step into a possible life as a Rahhalah, something she had not forgotten for even a moment since she’d met the trio all those weeks ago.

Taking a deep breath, Zeni crossed the threshold and entered the dungeon, feeling a strange sensation wash over her, as if the very air within was charged with magic. The darkness seemed to close in around her, but she refused to let her fear take hold. She had come too far, and learned too much to back down now.

As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she noticed a faint, ethereal glow emanating from the walls, casting eerie shadows that seemed to dance and sway with each step she took. The air was thick with the scent of dust and ancient secrets, and the silence was almost deafening.

That’s when she heard it. The same voice from each night, only now it was as a roar, multitudes joining in with her as she stared into the pit of the unknown.

“The dungeon, child. Find it. End it. Consume it. Whatever must be done. There is nothing to be gained from allowing their unfettered growth. Destroy its very nature and stopper its strength. It shall not be allowed to fester in the earth and manifest its dark designs.”

With her heart pounding in her chest and her invocations at the ready, Zeni ventured deeper.

—

Name: Zeni (No Title)

Race: Traveler (2nd Level Heket Enchantress)

Prowess Markers:

* Vitality: 1

* Potency: 1

* Deftness: 3

* Intellect: 5

* Clarity: 4

* Perception: 2

* Influence: 1

* Attunement: 1

* Adaptability: 1

Ankhs: None

Speed: Medium Tier (Second Level)

Protection: Low Tier (Second Level)

Portents: None

Proficiencies:

-Weapon Proficiencies: None

-Armor Proficiencies: None

-Skill Proficiencies:

* Potion Making - Medium Tier (Second Level)

* Blacksmithing - Low Tier (First Level)

* Baking - Low Tier (First Level)

-Tool Proficiencies

* Apothecary Implements - Medium Tier (Second Level)

* Smithing Tools - Low Tier (First Level)

* Cooking Utensils - Low Tier (First Level)

-Language Proficiencies

* Kemetut - General Tier

* Aarutut - General Tier

General Skills

Invocations known:

* Elemental Invocations

* Curse