Tuesday, July 6, 2010

The wizard had done his homework, and was certain he knew what lay beyond this first door. What he was uncertain of was the form of the elemental he had to defeat. Air was a tricky opponent, especially hard to confine and even more difficult to damage, but the hardest task of all was often seeing or detecting it. Knowing it was there was sure to help, he thought grimly to himself.

He delicately traced his fingers along the eldritch runes that illuminated the face of the ancient door, and even he marveled at the value of such a heavy weight of platinum. He braced himself for the bite of the curse he knew would be coming. Seconds ticked by, and the wizard’s brow furled. “This should be trapped, “ he whispered to himself as the door slowly opened into a dark space. He conjured a light that dispelled the darkness, but was not visible to any one else, before he stepped through. It seemed to be any empty antechamber with a solid stone floor, hewn stone walls, and a ceiling above the range of his “light”. Although no symbols were visible, the whole room nearly glowed with magical aura. Stepping quietly into the door, he didn’t realize his first mistake of the night until he heard the metallic click as the door latched shut. Without looking, he whirled, causing his cloak to billow after him and catch most of the darts flung from the opposite wall. As he finished his amazingly deft reaction, he blew a long sigh of relief. Only inches from his face, his hand was tightly grasping a dart he had snared out of thin air. It was the only one to elude the cloak defense, and the wizard could smell certain death in the thick poison that coated its tip, and now the fingers of his enchanted missile snaring gloves. Then, a rush of air at his back and he was suddenly in the fight of his life. The wind elemental knocked him with such force, he felt as if giant hammers were pummeling him. He flailed wildly into the whirlwind, hoping the magic in his staff would strike true the eye of this tornado. A minute of combat might as well been an hour. The wizard could not remember ever fighting a single creature for so long, and just as suddenly as it appeared, the winds died and his staff found no more resistance. Weakened and winded, he looked up at the ceiling a mere 90-100 feet up. Now, glowing sigils appeared, looking similar to the ones on the door that led him here. He quickly whispered the words of his spell, and began to slowly float up to the eldritch runes in the ceiling.

And now for the door sneered the wizard.


Gordzilla said...

This wizard is a smug bastard! LOL

James said...

This is getting good.