The Box (Part VIII)

Posted on August 29, 2013 by R. Richardsson

As they crept through the dark tunnels, Oramiir began unconsciously falling farther behind the rest of the group. His thoughts were wandering as he recounted his spell components. Even though he had thought enough ahead to bring ample materials, his discipline demanded that he recall his inventory without error.

He wasn’t completely lost within himself. Though he had grown unaware of his slowing pace, he’d still kept an ear open to the tunnels around him.

Earlier, he had used his power to project the sound from the noisiest parts of his body several yards behind him. He had perfected this version of Sound Projection many years ago as an apprentice for his former master, a spell that he was quite fond and proud of. While it didn’t protect its target from being detected at the rear of the party, it ensured that one could remain perfectly silent while still being able to hear the sounds around them.

It was his semi-state of alertness that saved him. As he was passing by a small side tunnel, a soft whistle brought him to full attention. The sound bounced off of the walls, amplified by the natural structures of the rock. His first thought was that Joeshan was trying to signal him, but this was immediately dismissed when the whistle was answered from somewhere close behind.

He didn’t think about his next action, and acting purely on instinct, he stopped mid-stride with his right heel planted solidly in front of him. Several thoughts ran through his head in the next split second; should he cast an illumination spell? Should he make an attempt to warn his friends? Or, would it be best to activate some type of defensive magic? In the end, it was his instincts that forced his next move. His right hand reached quickly over to his left, the thumb and index finger clamping on the sides of a ring he wore on his pinkie and he uttered a soft command. Instantly, the ring’s magic coursed into his eyes, allowing him to see just a few feet around him as if it were day.

Just inches from his face, the drooling maw of a Destrachan quivered with hungry anticipation. Its sightless eyes blinked, an action he would later ponder if he made it out of this alive. The creature had two droopy ears hanging from the side of its head, and he held his breath when its right ear suddenly lifted and pointed directly at him. As he looked into the three deep canals that allowed for the creature to ‘see’, he tried to remember as to whether or not he had placed the Sound Projection over his nose and mouth.

The right ear continued to point directly at him, twisting slightly to the right and left. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that the creature was studying him!

Just at that moment, however, there came a slight grumbling from somewhere deeper in the tunnels. Much like the warning this creature had given, it reflected off of the walls with gleeful abandon, happy to share the hungry plight of its messenger. Both of the creature’s ears twitched as they traced the sound back to where it began and the creature loped off, following the path he had only moments ago traversed.

A second Destrachan burst out of the darkness. It was smaller than the previous one, but its hide was darker in color. Whereas the first had been like that of a pale eggshell, this one’s was more the color of the stone around him. Before it vanished into the tunnels ahead of him, it lifted its head and shrieked. The sound was feminine, yet inhuman, and despite his preference for all things dark, it sent chills down his spine.

Once he was sure there were no others, he quickly gave chase. If there was to be a battle, they would have to quickly end it, lest his magical wards wore off before they reached their destination.

As if to remind him of the urgency, the breath of the dragon rushed around him, much as the river would around a lonely stone.

She Has A Pretty Face Though (Part XXVI)

Posted on August 21, 2013 by R. Richardsson

Disclaimer

The following is one of many installments for a story designed specifically for my blog. While it does step out of my usual genre, there are some things still not suitable for a younger audience. Violent/Graphic descriptions, strong language and sexual situations may be found through different sections. Each entry will tell a small portion of the story during different times and may not directly follow the one prior to it.

This story follows the direct interactions, as well as the deteriorating thoughts of a young man who is struggling not only with the relationships he has with those around him, but with the relationship he has with himself as well.

Finally, all work is strictly fiction and does not reflect the views of the author. Any resemblance to actual person(s) is only a coincidence.

If this isn’t your cup of tea, then avoid these excerpts and hopefully I’ll see you around my other posts and webseries!

———

There was no telling how long he had been floating in the darkness. Time didn’t pass the same way as it did on the outside. He couldn’t close his eyes, or open them, and there was no way to be sure because the darkness was complete. There was never complete silence where he was hidden. He could hear the steady drumbeat of his heart. It reverberated off of the unseen walls around him and his very being seemed to vibrate with the sound that passed through him. At first it was as unnerving as the darkness around him, but he soon grew to be comforted by it.

Nor was he alone. He could hear the voices of others, always indistinguishable, always speaking in the distance. After several minutes (hours?) of trying to decipher what they were saying, he had decided the venture useless.

He had also tried to move himself by making swimming motions. While he thought he could feel the actions being produced, it still remained that he could not feel himself. He grudgingly began to accept that the only aspect of himself which existed here was the essence of his soul.

His spirit was broken. The other had come and gone on several occasions, tormenting him with his cruel words. Sometimes he spoke to him of what he was seeing through Scott’s eyes. Others, he laughed maniacally. The last time this happened, Scott had screamed until he had passed out.

Except, there was no passing out in here. There was no sleep, no escape and he was beginning to feel exhaustion more acutely than when he HAD been in control. The only thing he could do was to pull himself into as tight of a ball as he could and try to recuperate his energy.

Several days (seconds?) later, two almond shaped portals slowly opened in the distance. The light that poured in from each, pierced him like two fiery daggers causing him to scream once more.

“SCOOOooottt! Wakey, wakey!”

The other spoke in sing-song, mocking him with its playful sarcasm. Of course he knew that Scott was awake. He took pleasure in the pain that he caused him.

“What do you want,” Scott asked weakly.

“I need you to get up. The library is going to close soon.”

“But how,” he asked, unsure of how to continue.

“Think of it as slipping on a pair of gloves.”

It sounded simple enough, and he thought that he could ‘feel’ himself spreading into his arms and legs, but he was confused. How was it that the other knew how to do this and had never yet done it?

“Because, you fucking moron, I don’t want to control you. I thought you would have gotten that by now.”

The words hurt. He didn’t know why, but there was something about them that just grabbed onto his heart strings and pulled.

“Don’t puss out on me now. I need you to stand up and start walking.”

Scott mechanically followed the orders from the other, and when ‘his’ voice screamed at him to grab his things before he left, he silently obeyed. This was a feeling like none other he had ever experienced. He could feel the inside of his body, but from the prison of his consciousness, it did indeed feel as if he was slipping into glove-like containers. A thought crossed his mind and he giggled madly. He was wearing a Scott suit!

Because the other could hear his every thought, ‘he’ began to cackle as well and together, the two lumbered their way out of the library. To anyone watching, they (Scott) could have been the greatest zombie actor this side of All Saints.

The Box (Part VII)

Posted on August 15, 2013 by R. Richardsson

The sounds were subtle at first, and if he hadn’t been actively searching for any signs of danger, he might have missed them altogether. A series of soft clicks echoed through the tunnels. They were innocent enough at first, and just as he was about to decide that they belonged to an insectile denizen of the underdark, a soft whistle answered.

For the first time since leaving his hearth home, his hands began to shake. His heart pounded so loudly in his chest that he worried the sound would give him away. There wasn’t time to think of such things. Slowly, he removed a small cylindrical object from one of his many hidden pockets and pressed it against the wall. Seconds later, he left the chalk message behind with utter confidence that his companions would easily discern its meaning; Danger!

He hoped that it was enough. It had to be. These creatures were difficult enough to battle when solitary, but he knew that this wouldn’t be the case. There were at least two of the Destrachan stalking him and the gods alone knew how many more were out there!

Having moved very little since replacing the chalk, he lowered his hand onto the pommel of his dagger. The feeling was warm and comforting, for it had been a faithful tool during his travels, but he also knew that it wouldn’t be enough. There was no way that he could take down two of them by himself!

The Destrachan are a legendary race of predators, mostly unknown to those above ground. They’re able to move deceptively quick on their powerful hind legs, at the bottom of which their tri-clawed feet which they can also use for attack. A powerful tail maintains their balance, in their hunched over posture, and is itself a deadly weapon in combat as well. Generations of living below ground have removed the necessity of having eyes, and a large circular mouth dominates the front of their head, inside of which is lined with several rows of razor-sharp teeth. Though they have two power arms to attack with, they are most commonly known to lead into battle with a kinetic attack from the mouth. A weaker version of the Banshee’s wail, this attack not only causes significant damage to their victims, but has been known to outright kill those more susceptible to the sonic attack.

Joeshan drew his dagger from its sheath and despaired that he couldn’t find a way to find the unfair advantage. There would be no sneaking around them, for, unlike most beasts, these were extremely intelligent. While it was true that they hunted for food, they also enjoyed toying with their prey before killing it. He’d even heard rumors that they could understand the common speech of man and delighted in the fear they caused in their victims.

More than their intelligence, their true advantage was with their extraordinary hearing. Their tripartite ears allow for it to adjust to the many different sensitivities of sound, which, in turn, allow them to ‘see’ better than most creatures who rely solely on their eyes.

As he was reflecting on the physiology of his enemy, he failed to notice that the tunnels had fallen silent. His stomach grumbled, but this time it wasn’t from the hunger. He felt sick. They were now upon him, and…

..an inhuman shriek shattered the silence, rending it beneath several waves of power. He didn’t see the attack that slammed into his chest, lifting him into the air and launching him several feet backwards. He couldn’t hear his screams as the Destrachan slowly crept to where he now lay. If he had, it would have sounded something like a woman’s scream, mixed with a pig’s squeal.

The blubbery lips of the monster rippled from the passage of its attack, but more unsettling than the sound from its mouth was the steady clickety-clack of its claws as it drew ever closer.

Stunned by its attack, Joeshan watched helplessly as it approached.