The Labyrinth

[Ironhelm]

OOC

A lady archeologist.

There is a well in the middle of the stone chamber, water the color of fire, filled to the brim, reflecting the light of the torches burning along the walls.

"Wait till Professor Wimbly sees this!" Ann Kipling could not believe her eyes "There is an underground chamber after all, but..how?" Ann cast her glaze along the wall, looking at the torches, mystified.

Ann's first thought was to get back up and tell the archeological team a mere hundred feet above "I have to tell Jeff, and Mona, and the Professor".

Ann picked up a torch from the wall, and instead of retreating from the chamber, she started paced slowly along the walls
There were three small archways, surmounted by indecipherable writtings, leading out of the chamber in addition to the passage leading in from the dig site

From the archway decorated with carvings of beasts and birds, Ann seemed to hear faint sounds of people in conversation, and the clinking of glasses, and soft laughters. How is that possible?

Ann turned to peek into the next archway, decorated with a serpent, and recoiled when she heard what sounded like a scream of anguish, and a cracking sound, as of leather meeting flesh. She lingered when the sound of anguish turned to something else, a moan?

Ann stepped back confused. How is all this possible? This place has been sealed for millenia. She peeked into the dark void of the third arch way, decorated with the head of a woman, and thought she heard a soft groan, as of pleasure, a shriek of laughter, and rythmatic panting.

She stepped back into the center of the chamber, by the well. There is another sound, a hissing, as of many snakes writhing and slithering on stone ground, far off.

She looked at the archways, and at the passage leading out back to the dig

(Where would you go?)

 

[Imoen]

Ann

Ann Kipling’s small white knuckles shown brightly against the worn, dull brass of the torch handle she clutched. Small pearl-like teeth worried at her lower lip as her azure blue gaze traversed between the three doorways. A heady mixture of excitement and anticipation gave rise to her pulse as she regarded the passageways.

A more modest and conservative member of the team would make her way back to the others and report the hidden chamber immediately. And honestly, for a split second, Ann actually considered doing just that. Ann, who could never be accused of being either modest or certainly not conservative, tamped that thought down immediately. What would it hurt to examine the passageways a bit further? Nothing she wasn’t willing to risk, she answered herself. Ah, but which one to choose…

“The beginning is usually the best place to start.” She whispered to herself, as she approached the archway decorated with the carvings of birds and beasts. Swallowing back the sudden feeling of trepidation, she squared her shoulders as she firmed her resolve and stepped forward into the passageway, her procured torch her guiding light.

 

[Ironhelm]

Some denizens are roused from their slumbers

The Kirmen woke slowly - Why am I called from my slumber? He thought, and then he knew. A dweller from the sunlit world had come into the labyrinth, the pulses of her body, slight and distant, nevertheless created corresponding tremors in his. He tried to move, but the rotted scraps of earthly garment that he wore in another life, infused and encrusted with dirt collected in millenia, restricted his movements. He growled, straining hard, as if to capture the beating pulse of life, unwilling to settle back into his slumber. A clump of earth fell. He growled harder. He could move his arm!

The Voslar drifted together, as air formed into a cyclone, and his form materialized in a faint swirl of dust. He looked to the left to see another of himself, and to the right, to see another of herself, and yet another, and another, in various, approximate images of the creatures from above, one of whom had finally been lured into the labyrinth. The others saw him and together they drifted down the corridor of the labyrinth, rising and falling, almost as one until they entered the ancient hall. We have a visitor! they thought and smiled - A visitor with the force of life flowing in her, a force that could give them subtance at last!

The heavy lock on a pair of ancient doors unlocked itself with a heavy groan and a metallic clang. A seal had been broken, and the doors swung slowly open. The serpent woke, to see an empty set of manacles dangling from the ceiling. How long had it been? he thought. Eons and eons. The serpent opened his mouth and his forked tongue lashed the air like a heavy whip.

The tunnel was dark for Ann, and sounds of laughter grew louder, now closer, now further, until she came upon an open archway. A dim light shone from beyond, and she discerned drifting forms, and heard whispered conversations. Further down the tunnel, an omnious growling, and on the stone floor she saw an iron ring. It's a hatch, she thought.

 

[Imoen]

From the fryingpan into the fire?

The encompassing darkness of the hallway seemed to soak up the meager light offered by the flickering flame of Ann’s torch. Her fingertips danced along the surface of the narrow passageway as she walked forward at a steady, but cautious pace. With each step forward, there was a discernable lightening of the darkness surrounding her. A veritable light at the end of her tunnel. The thought brought a wry smile to her lips. By all means, it certainly could not be described with any semblance of a normal light, but it was mildly comforting nonetheless.

Stepping into the dim light she found herself, not in a room, but merely a widening of the passageway. Try as she may, she could not determine the source of the strange light, however she was thankful for its presence. Dim as it were it, along with the light of the torch, allowed for some examination. Iridescent figures drifted around the room in no evident pattern. Ghosts? The mere thought brought on a twinge of unease. She lifted a hand as one of the graceful ghostly visages drew closer, and watched with widened eyes as it slid through it without pause. The first icy tendril of fear weaved its way round her heart, staying her step as she regarded the drifting figures.

The sounds of quietly murmured conversation and laughter that had lured her along this tunnel, now took on a more menacing quality. Her fear mounted, spurring her to turn back the way she came. She loosed a startled scream as a muffled growl arose from the passageway as she took the first retreating step. A trill of excitement and terror ran along her spine, giving rise to the tiny hairs along the nape of her neck. To her the direction of the growl was indistinguishable. Was it from the way she came or further along the passage?

Her panicked gaze locked on an iron ring that protruded from the floor. Four long strides and she was there, firmly gripping the ring and pulling with all her might. Rough spiky shards of rust dug into her delicate palm. She welcomed the sharp sting. The pain kept her focused, keeping her fear for the moment at bay. With one final triumphant tug, the hatch reluctantly gave, opening with a low groan of neglect. Peering down, there was nothing but inky darkness. The growl echoed again around her again, and spurred her into action. She held the torch down into the cavity, casting a dim light that revealed a stone staircase in which she quickly descended, pulling the hatch close behind her.

 

[Ironhelm]

The stone steps

The Kirmens looked up, sightless eyes glared unseeing at the warm glow of the torch descending the stone steps. They did not need to see. Each and everyone felt the pulses of life beating in the creature from the sunlit world. The thuds of her footsteps echoed and re-echoed in the dark chamber, each step bringing her closer to them.

The Kiremens raised their arms, as if reaching out to touch the pulses of life. One of them stumbled forward, a long hiss escaped from his mouth with each labored step. Another followed, and then another, moving towards the bottom of the steps.

The darkness was alive with whispers, and drifting forms. "A nasty place" one said.
"Turn back" said another. "No, go on" said a third "down the steps, pay the Kirman, through the chamber, beyond the door. Collect the key". "She doesn't have enough to pay". "Oh but she does". "Turn back, make me whole. I'll be your guide and companion" said another. "She cannot make you whole without the key".

The steps stretched down, into the darkness of the chamber below, where vagues shapes moved.