Samuel's smile faded as the ripples in the black lake grew in size, creating waves that crashed against the shore of the island. He gripped Echoes of Umbra and lowered his stance, readying himself for whatever was coming. A dark shape broke the surface of the water. Samuel's heart skipped a beat as he took in a massive, humanoid fish-creature with milky-white eyes. It clicked a tongue in the air, turning its head this way and that before settling on Samuel’s direction. It swam toward the edge of the island and climbed up on six webbed limbs. Standing there, out of the water and near ten feet tall, it looked like something out of a Lovecraftian nightmare. Water ran in rivulets down black scales.
The creature hissed and lunged towards Samuel, its tongue clicking and claws extending to tear him apart. Samuel dodged to the side and slashed at the creature with Echoes of Umbra. The blade left a trail of shadows as it sliced through the very air itself, striking the creature and causing it to roar in pain.
Samuel danced awkwardly on his sprained ankle, barely able to get around the creature and away from a swiping arm. For all that its size horrified Samuel, it was slow and blind, and land was not its domain.
Confidence built in Samuel as he gained the upper hand on the beast. He let out a laugh, dodging, and scoring small hits against the monster. Everything felt right, his movements flowing. He feinted right and charged at the blind creature’s abdomen, aiming to embed his dark dagger with one final attack.
The creature spun, faster than Samuel had thought possible, and bodily sent Samuel flying through the fencing of roots, off the small island, and into the inky black water of the underground lake with a splash.
Samuel clutched at his dagger as his body’s tumbled slowly under the water. He was only barely able to catch sight of the black scales of the monster as it slid under the water’s surface, its black scales becoming one with the dark depths.
Now Samuel was in its domain.
The click of the creature’s tongue reverberated in Samuel’s eardrum, and he knew it was using some form of echolocation to keep track of him. Samuel spun wildly, desperately trying to catch sight of the monster. But all he could see was the entrance to the tunnel of moss he had come through and the light of the island he had found Echoes of Umbra. He swam for the island.
An impact from below sent Samuel flying up and out of the water. He flailed and slapped back onto the water’s surface, the air rushing from his lungs. Moments later another impact sent Samuel out of the water and skipping across its surface—away from the island.
It was toying with him.
Minutes passed like this, Samuel desperately trying to swim to the island’s edge, only to be launched back out of the water or pushed down into its depths. Each time the creature hit him, he tried to swipe at it with his dagger, and each time, he narrowly missed. It was impossible to see. Impossible to know when it was coming. He was only able to catch snippets of breath, never quite refilling his lungs.
Then, finally, the creature grew bored of the play. It opened its massive mouth and bit down onto Samuel’s abdomen and leg, rows of sharp teeth breaking skin. Rage filled Samuel’s mind and body. He had come too far to die in the mouth of an anonymous monster in an abyssal underground lake. He stabbed at the creature with Echoes of Umbra as it thrashed him around under the water.
Samuel choked on mouthfuls of water as he fought. He screamed, letting what air remained in his lungs to escape in bubbles. He fell into a feral ferocity he didn’t know existed. Stabbing. Stabbing. Stabbing.
Heat built in his heart.
Heat that needed an outlet.
The flame etched onto the pad of his thumb glowed a brilliant red. Sparks ignited out from Samuel’s thumb, instantly drowned by the surrounding waters, but Samuel’s rage could not be quenched. He smiled through a bloodied mouth and pressed his thumb into the creature’s milky white eye. He pushed, causing the eye it to melt and pop. Water and viscera turned to hot steam around Samuel’s thumb as he pressed it deeper into the creature’s head, burning a hole all the way down toward its brain.
All the while, Shadows of Umbra stabbed into and out of anywhere Samuel could reach on the monster’s body.
Finally, the monster stopped thrashing, reduced to random twitching caused by a melted brain. Samuel yanked his arm free from the creature’s head and pried his way out of the maw of the beast. He surfaced, gasping for air once more.
He swam as best he could to the island with the dead man on a throne and dragged himself up on the shore once more. He threw up a stomach full of the lake water. His abdomen and leg were bleeding out from several dozen punctures. He fought unconsciousness once again as he pulled deep within himself to summon the firestone’s magic once more. He fed into the rage, trying to give it purchase in his heart.
To create that heat that needed an outlet once more.
It worked, weaker than during his fight, but it would be enough. He bit down on the handle of Echoes of Umbra. Using his thumb like a hot iron, he cauterized each of the wounds on his body, one by one. His skin sizzled and popped and the pain forced Samuel awake. When he had finished, he pushed his body back into the cold water of the lake again, numbing himself to the stinking burns.
He felt his consciousness ebbing slowly away from him once again and grit his teeth against it.
“No,” he said defiantly.
He pushed himself to a seat and looked up at the roots weaving the natural canopy above him. Roots meant tree, and tree meant surface.
Samuel used one of the roots to pull himself up to stand.
He summoned his Player Scroll, hoping it could warn him if he was about to bleed out.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
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NAME: Samuel Cardwell
Race: Human
Body: 8/60
Strength: 4
Dexterity: 2
Mind: 37/80
Charisma: 2
Intelligence: 6
Spells:
Fire: Level 2.
Traits:
Permanent:
Foodie:...
Temporary:
Moderate Exhaustion: You pushed too hard for too long. Body meter recovers 50% slower. Mind meter recovers 20% slower. Sleep 8 hours to remove.
Burned (x12):...
Ankle Sprain: You’ve sprained your ankle. Wrap it tight or take anti-inflammatories to help it heal. Remaining time: 2 days, 3 hours, 23 minutes, 12 seconds
Minor Chill: You’ve been cold for too long. Body and Mind meter recover 10% slower. Warm up to remove.
Minor Trauma: You’ve gone through something truly terrible. Something that will stick with you. Body and Mind meter recover 10% slower. Remaining time: 1 day, 15 hours, 11 minutes, 46 seconds
Equipped Gear:
Rough-spun cotton trousers, bloodied, burned, ripped
Rope belt, burned.
Leather shoes, worn.
Inventory:
Empty dagger sheath.
Echoes of Umbra, legendary.
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Samuel gave a mirthless chuckle. According to his scroll, he was further from death now than he had been last night after the zombie attack at the tavern. Nobody should have been able to survive what he had just gone through and still be standing. His strength and intelligence had both gone up, once again increasing his max Body and Mind Meters. His fire spell had increased a level as well. Thought he had gone through something traumatic, he felt stronger for it. Stronger than he had any right to.
Funniest of all, though, was that the ragged shirt that clung to his body like wet scraps of ribbon no longer qualified as equipped gear. He pulled the bits of cloth clinging to his wet body off and let them drop to the ground. He was beginning to feel like a barbarian.
Samuel dug through the decaying pockets of the headless man, whose body still sat upon the natural throne. The clothing ripped and tore too easily to be useful. He found a journal written in haphazard scrawl, as if written in haste. Some of the pages cracked and broke apart when he opened it, and he glanced through some words that spoke of the lake and the dagger. He carefully placed it on the mossy ground and kept digging. He found a simple gold ring on the man’s finger and small belt pouch—somewhat like a leather fanny pack—filled with a lucky 13 gold coins. The leather was in bad shape and cracking in several places, but Samuel pulled it from the man’s body all the same. Having something to carry his small assortment of loot would be helpful. Samuel shoved the journal, and ring into the belt pouch and tied it around his own waist. He cringed when the tightened belt made his pants rub against his freshly burned skin. The dagger sheath that had once held Nathan was a touch too short for Echoes of Umbra, but it fit well enough that the blade wouldn’t slide out.
Confident he had pilfered everything of value from the dead man, Samuel looked up at the ceiling once more. If he couldn’t find his way out, he’d climb and dig his way out.
He reached up and gripped the dangling roots of the trees above, using them to pull himself up and begin his ascent. He felt the smooth exterior of the roots beneath his fingers and palms as he climbed. The process was slow, laborious, and painful, but he kept going, driven by his determination to reach the cavern roof.
Samuel's muscles burned with the effort, forcing him to pause and rest when he could. He knew that he had to keep going, though, as his luck in this world had been terrible so far. He was convinced that Oscar, a horde of spiders, or some other humanoid fish monstrosity was waiting for him to just try to pause and rest on the island below.
The higher he climbed, the thicker the roots of the trees grew and the harder they became grasp. Samuel struggled to find purchase with his fingers and boots, but he persisted, not daring to look down at the black lake and the small glowing island far below. The mere thought of the height made his stomach do small somersaults.
He used Echoes of Umbra to carve grips into the root system, creating makeshift handholds to help him pull himself upward. Minutes turned into hours as he climbed higher and higher, his body beginning again to shake with fatigue. Finally, he pulled himself into a seated position on a particularly craggy root, his nose only inches away from the hardpacked dirt above.
Using his fingers, he dug at the dirt, feeling the hard, unyielding surface beneath his nails. It felt as though he were committing sacrilege, but he used his new dagger to dig into the ceiling, causing dirt and debris to fall around him. He continued to dig, finding purchase wherever he could and creating a small hole in the ceiling. Every move he made caused dirt and dust to rain down on him, obscuring his vision and filling his nostrils with the earthy scent of the cavern.
At last, a cascade of dirt and pebbles gave way to a dim light above. Samuel reached his hand up and out of the hole and felt a warm breeze on his skin. He had an out-of-body experience, witnessing his own hand pressing out of the ground like the undead rising from the grave.
“Ironic,” he muttered to himself.
He groaned with effort and pulled himself up and out of the hole, feeling the fresh air on his face and the soft grass around him. The forest stretched out before him, alive with sights, sounds, and smells both familiar and foreign. He inhaled the sweet woody air, letting it fill his lungs and reinvigorate him after his long climb in the dark.
As his heart rate slowed and he found himself without an immediate goal, the aches and pains of his body made themselves known with greater resolve. His burns stung and his stomach rumbled with immense hunger. He had swallowed so much water in the lake below that he thankfully at least wasn’t thirsty.
He needed shelter and he needed food.
The light was waning, the bits of sky he could see through the canopy turning a burnt orange.
He was safe from Oscar, for now, but he was not out of the forest.
Gripping Echoes of Umbra, Samuel stood and began his weary and limping search for a safe place to sleep, wanting some distance from the hole he had climbed out from.
All around him, the sounds of a forest filled to the brim with life made itself known. He could hear the distant hoot of owls, the chittering of squirrels, the groaning sway of tree limbs as they danced in the wind. Other noises that Samuel couldn’t place caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. Sights of oddly shaped fungi and other flora made him feel like he had wandered into a fairytale.
“Place to sleep,” he muttered, feeling an almost drunken state of lethargy overcoming him.
He chanced upon an old deer bed of dried grasses pressed down in a nook between two large roots. After a moment’s hesitation, he climbed into it and lay down.
“Softest bed west of the Nevisen,” he murmured, chuckling to himself.
Sleep found him in moments.