Chance inched down the corridor very slowly, through a world of grey. There was no longer any sources of light to be had, having left the entrance far behind but it didn’t seem to trouble him, the near total darkness. He wondered how it was for the other two, as they seemed little effected either. Shags prowled along silently while Yrip was in his normal position, tucked up close behind Chance, almost to stepping on the heels of his feet so close was he. It wasn’t that the kobold wasn’t brave, but more that he just gravitate towards his ‘master’ for security and safety.
His stonesense told Chance that the tunnel they walked wasn’t naturally made, though he could see it quite plainly even in the dark and without the power needing to alert him. The structure was too regular to be anything but man - or dwarf - made. Long and straight it ran, unbroken by any flaw.
They had walked for perhaps five minutes, taking it slow, when Shags came to an abrupt halt, his hackles raised and a low growl emanating from him, a soft rumbling deep in his chest. Chance stopped, with Yrip almost walking into the back of him.
“What is it?” Chance whispered, trying to keep the powerful dwarven voice as low as he could.
I heard movement. Shags sniffed at the air. I can not smell anything living. Only bones.
“Of course Shaggy Death would be interested in bones,” Yrip commented. “Munchy, crunchy bones.”
Shags swung his head towards Yrip and his eyes seemed to gleam in the dark.
These bones are moving.
Yrip yipped.
“Skeletons you mean?” Chance asked.
Yes. The undead are here.
Right, so the game, if that was what it was, had left fantasy behind and headed into horror. And he without his boomstick.
He pulled the parchment out from where it was tucked in his belt, opening it up and consulting it; the dark did not hinder him as the letters stood out in his darkvision. He called up skeletons, to see what it said.
Knowledge unlocked: Skeletons
Knowledge: Lore [undead]
The simplest of the undead, individuals skeletons are weak and easily dealt with, but unless properly destroyed will keep coming back for more punishment. Eventually even these mindless creatures learn after enough beatings to stop trying. Weak to bludgeoning damage, they are resistant to other forms of damage.
Stats: Body: 1. Mind: 0. Soul: 1. Reaction: 1. Presence: 0. Perception: 0.
Affinities: None
Powers; Regeneration
Type: Undead
If he had wanted easy to learnt to fight then the perfect opportunity to practise had presented itself. They weren’t living, wouldn’t complain or scream and wouldn’t bleed everywhere either. The bit about them coming back sounded troubling, but that could be dealt with.
Folding up the parchment and stowing it away in his belt, Chance nodded to himself.
“Right, lets go and break a few bones shall we?” He said it more for himself than anything, trying to steel himself for a confrontation.
He started forward, activating his Iron Skin power for protection as he went, his limb stiffening, flesh hardening.
In the grey ahead a door, a portal appeared. Solid stone, it sat large and imposing, blocking the way. Even he could hear noises as they approached it, the creak and clattered of movement, of bone upon stone.
Reaching the door he stopped, took a deep breath to compose himself, knuckles white upon the shaft of the spear and then shoved it open. It swung silently, opening up a chamber beyond.
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It was quite large, and dimly lit in a sickly green glow that emanated from runes splashes upon the walls, vile things that seeped with evil as much as light. There were numerous skeletons shuffling around aimlessly in the chamber, while at the far side sat an imposing stone chair. A robed corpse was slumped in the chair, head propped up by an arm that itself was supported by the side of the chair.
“Vasqut!” Chance heard himself roar and lung out a hand towards the nearest shambling skeleton. A surge ran through him, a tingling that almost felt ecstatic in nature as raw primal energies swept over him. A green light glowed from his hand and from it a stone about half the size of his fist shot forward, to strike the nearest skeleton. It struck it in the skull; the bone shattered at the impact, flinging shards about. The rest of the skeleton crashed to the floor, coming apart as the dark energies that bound it dissipated.
So that was what Stone Shot was. It certainly had done a number on the skeleton.
At his sudden entrance and unexpected attack, the rest of the skeletons turned towards him. The same sickly green glow on the walls could likewise been seen in their empty eyesockets. The corpse on the chair stirred too; it was not as dead as Chane had first thought, though it wasn’t a skeleton, and certainly didn’t look like a zombie either. There was an intelligence at play there, watching, studying; Chance did not have time to worry about it as the rest of the skeletons began to shuffle forward towards him, threatening to overwhelm him in a flood of bones.
Chance pointed again at another skeleton, this one at random and shouted once more; “Vasqut!” It sent another stone scything forward through the air at the skeleton, to shatter ribs and spine. Shags went bounding forward and leapt upon a third skeleton, bearing it to the ground, his snarling maw ripping it apart, scattering bones in all directions in a savage attack.
Before Chance could unleash his power again, another skeleton was upon him, attempting to claw at him with bony hands. Chance raised his spear in an effort to fend it off, jabbing and prodding. As before, the feeling of not being totally in control swept across him, as if another hand, another will was guiding his actions.
The pair settled into something of a stalemate. The long reach of the spear kept the skeleton from getting to him yet at the same time he couldn’t do a whole lot to the skeleton but to prod at it, to push it back each time it tried to shuffle forward. There was no flesh for the spear blade to penetrate, no vitals to strike, just bones. While the spear could chip and scratch them, it could do little beyond that.
It occurred to him that he was not thinking straight. The fear, the excitement, all of it was overloading his sense of composure an awareness of the situation. In so doing he was allowing the other skeletons to come shuffling towards him, threatening to overwhelm him with numbers. He still had the Iron Skin running, which would stop one blow but not many. It did give him an opening though, if not a great one.
He released one hand from its grip on the spear and extended it towards one of the approaching skeletons, once more speaking the word that unleashed the Stone Shot, even as the first skeleton forced its way past his spear and lunge at him.
The stone shrieked through the air to clatter the victim into another pile of falling, broken bones A clawing hand scratched across Chance’s chest; no harm came to him as the enchantment soaked up the damage though his skin softened as it was expended.
His hands swung the spear, using it not to jab the skeleton that stuck him but as a staff, crashing into the ribcage of the skeleton. Bones shattered and the body fell apart, the skull bouncing away across the chamber, jaw hanging open.
More skeletons kept coming, slow, silent but inexorable. The thing on the throne rose yet stayed behind, content to watch. Shags leapt about the chamber, a maelstrom of snarls and snapping teeth. There were dark patches on his fur, an indication that he had not come through unscathed; he did not relent though and barrelled over skeletons, pouncing upon them, savaging them apart.
A fearsome yip came from behind Chance and Yrip came charging past, tackling a much larger skeleton and bearing it to the ground. “You will not harm the master!” the little kobold bellowed, wrestling with the skeleton.
Chance strode forward, flinging another stone off at a skeleton, before smashing the butt of his spear into the skull of the skeleton that Yrip was valiantly holding down, crushing it to pieces.
A blow lashed across him as he did, tearing across his cheek, bringing blood oozing forth. There was pain, startling in its intensity and suddenness. He didn’t like it, not at all.
“Biscuits!”
Damage Taken: Low
Health Remaining: Unknown.
Injuries: None.
Chance swung the shaft of the spear around to smash down his attacker, smarting from the pain. In future, he promised himself, he was going to avoid getting him at all costs. It hurt, it was no fun, and there seemed no reliable count of how badly damaged he actually was. Low damage it said, but no indication of how much remained. Which meant avoiding dying like The Counsellor had recommended was all that much harder.
Yrip scrambled back up to his feet, gripping his dagger-sword tightly, his eyes fierce in their intensity. Chance rested his hand on the cut of his cheek. “Uthaq.”
Damage Healed: Low
Health Remaining Full.
The wound knitted close and the pain resided, though an itch remained behind. Shags can limping over towards him; the last of the skeletons were done. He had dealt with mos of them, at a cost to himself. Chance placed his hand on the wolf and sent a flow of healing into him.
“Master,” Yrip said urgently, ‘Look.”
Across the chamber floor a number of the piles of bones were rattling, shifting, flowing together; reforming.
“Cheese and Crackers,” Chance cursed. The skeletons were regenerating.