8th day of Fall 513 AV
There was a stillness in the air, was there even air Varka did not know as his frigid arms and legs clung tightly to a rock in the middle of a raging stream. Like a tirade of abuses from a hateful spouse the water came endlessly as it did harshly, nearly leading the Vantha to slip into the freezing abyss of black and purple. Glowing reverberated through the swaying screaming trees as Varka shut his eyes, gripping the rock and pulling and pulling and pulling.
He kept pulling and climbing the rock, his eyes tightly shut as he went higher and higher, impossibly high, too high, terribly high. Opening his eyes at last he beheld and held a vine of purest green and looking out saw nothing but empty sky and a floor of cloud miles below. Looking up he saw a looming slab of stone, pitch black in color and in aura. Truly a horrible place to behold.
He tried to climb down but the vine burned at his touch every time he tried to backtrack, threatening to snap off and send him into the abyss below. Fearing the fall he climbed up, studying the looming tower before him, his eyes a bright teal as his fear grew with every handhold, every small rise as he grew closer and closer, the tower already enormous from afar now a monolith of titanic proportions.
Once atop the vine and upon the stone slab as black as the moonless, starless night he heard a crumble as the vine grew black and rotted before him slinking into the dark. All around him was dark now, the blotches of pitch black obscuring his vision, swinging his arms about he tried to fight it and rushing forward eyes obscured soon found himself upon his back, collapsed after hitting the thick wall of the tower. Crawling away from the horrific feel the place gave off he rose slowly his legs trembling without his control.
Finally he placed his hands upon the stone and watched in brilliance and in fear as the stone alighted a bright white, a crack of pure light arcing up the dark tower, then fading to reveal a massive open wound upon the thing. Pushing through he found himself cloaked in a deeper darkness than he could possibly imagine. His arms extended slowly feeling his way in he felt the touch of something soft then a slap. Backing away he felt another soft touch then a harsh slap. This bizarre combination continued another three times before he noted one foot was elevated and found a staircase. Moving up he touched upon the walls and found a torch.
As he pulled it free it lit up pushing back a foot of the dark to revealing three women standing before him with black eyes their mouths filled with black tar covered fangs. Shaking the light at them the three backed off as he ascended further, unsure of what grew horrors may still linger beyond this. He would have to move quickly as the hungry darkness seemed determined to snuff out all light, be it a torch or a life.
There was a stillness in the air, was there even air Varka did not know as his frigid arms and legs clung tightly to a rock in the middle of a raging stream. Like a tirade of abuses from a hateful spouse the water came endlessly as it did harshly, nearly leading the Vantha to slip into the freezing abyss of black and purple. Glowing reverberated through the swaying screaming trees as Varka shut his eyes, gripping the rock and pulling and pulling and pulling.
He kept pulling and climbing the rock, his eyes tightly shut as he went higher and higher, impossibly high, too high, terribly high. Opening his eyes at last he beheld and held a vine of purest green and looking out saw nothing but empty sky and a floor of cloud miles below. Looking up he saw a looming slab of stone, pitch black in color and in aura. Truly a horrible place to behold.
He tried to climb down but the vine burned at his touch every time he tried to backtrack, threatening to snap off and send him into the abyss below. Fearing the fall he climbed up, studying the looming tower before him, his eyes a bright teal as his fear grew with every handhold, every small rise as he grew closer and closer, the tower already enormous from afar now a monolith of titanic proportions.
Once atop the vine and upon the stone slab as black as the moonless, starless night he heard a crumble as the vine grew black and rotted before him slinking into the dark. All around him was dark now, the blotches of pitch black obscuring his vision, swinging his arms about he tried to fight it and rushing forward eyes obscured soon found himself upon his back, collapsed after hitting the thick wall of the tower. Crawling away from the horrific feel the place gave off he rose slowly his legs trembling without his control.
Finally he placed his hands upon the stone and watched in brilliance and in fear as the stone alighted a bright white, a crack of pure light arcing up the dark tower, then fading to reveal a massive open wound upon the thing. Pushing through he found himself cloaked in a deeper darkness than he could possibly imagine. His arms extended slowly feeling his way in he felt the touch of something soft then a slap. Backing away he felt another soft touch then a harsh slap. This bizarre combination continued another three times before he noted one foot was elevated and found a staircase. Moving up he touched upon the walls and found a torch.
As he pulled it free it lit up pushing back a foot of the dark to revealing three women standing before him with black eyes their mouths filled with black tar covered fangs. Shaking the light at them the three backed off as he ascended further, unsure of what grew horrors may still linger beyond this. He would have to move quickly as the hungry darkness seemed determined to snuff out all light, be it a torch or a life.
