Golric Icecarver stormed down the dank stone corridor, his mighty axe slashing left and right to cut down the hordes of lank haired verminous creatures that leapt from the dark shadows in never ending waves of rabid teeth.
Even in the far off frozen lands the barbarian called home there were rumors of this place. A dark dungeon of terrible perils and fabulous treasures. The whispers and legends had drawn him here, across the frigid seas, past strange cities, over the Mountains Of Terror, through the Forest Of No Return and at long last to the Cave Of Death and it's hidden entrance to this twisted labyrinth of unconquered evil.
Golric Icecarver, undefeated warlord, slayer of the Ice Wurm Cthandox, mightiest warrior of the Njordligist barbarians intended to conquer this place as he had conquored all else that had challenged him. He would slay the foul masters of this dank abode and seize their treasures before returning home in glory. They would sing songs of his triumph and his name would live on for generations.
Suddenly all six and a half feet of gleaming (if bloodsplattered) barbarian muscle was knocked sideways as burly greenish blur shot out of a side passage with a terrifying yell and collided with him. The barbarian chieften rolled with the blow, leaping back to his feet to face this new challenge. A rather large Orc stood before him, almost six foot tall and probably at least that wide. In each lumpen, leathery hand it clutched a wicked looking hatchet. It seemed to be frothing at the mouth, and for some reason was wearing a skull shaped codpiece.
Excellent. Here perhaps was a challenge. Golric let out a bloodcurdling battle cry and charged, his axe held high. Not to be out done his mysterious opponent let out a strangled gutteral shriek and leapt to the attack, it's hatchets carving trails of sparks from the narrow walls of the corridor. Blades flashed in the flickering torchlight as the two adversaries slashed and leapt with bestial ferocity. Suddenly the Orc seemed to stagger, and swayed unsteadily. Golric raised his axe to deliver the killing blow, only to have it blasted from his hands by a burst of dark fire. Alarmed, the Barbarian swung around, dropping to a crouch to face this new threat. A hatchet blade whistled through the air where but a moment before his head had been. Then there was the unmistakable sound of a body falling heavily to the floor. Had whatever foul sorceror felled his opponent by mistake whilst trying to slay him? He searched the gloom for this latest threat.
Behind him someone started snoring loudly.
The barbarian edged forward cauciously, seeking for his lost weapon. A voice rang out. Dry, dusty and ancient.
"Whas goin on?" It slurred.
In the gloom Golric made out an emaciated figure in ragged black robes, seemingly clinging to the wall. Wizard or not, this one would not put up much of a fight he decided. The barbarian stood and drew his spare axe.
" I am Golric Icecarver, slayer Cthandox, mightiest warrior of the Njordligist! Your foul magics will not avail you against me! Prepare to meet your death!"
"My, you're a strapping one aren't you" was the figures only reply. Golric charged with another mighty yell.
Then all the lights went out. All the torches suddenly flickered out, and darkness closed around the powerful barbarian. But this was no ordinary darkness. It pressed upon him with a powerful weight, slowing his movements until he could no longer move at all, and he was only held up by the unrelenting pressure that assailed himfrom all sides. The thought rose, unbidden, that this must be what a corpse feels like in it's grave, surrounded only by the cold weight of earth and darkness.
Then, a light that was not light flared in the darkness before him. Shadow moved on shadow, and he saw the cloaked figure stumble towards him. It's hood fell back, seemingly in slow motion to reveal the pale gleaming bone, which seemed to be reflecting a light Golric couldn't see. The eye sockets and jagged cracks across the face seemed to contain a deeper darkness still. Black and cold and terrifying.
had been able to move even a single muscle, chances are he would have screamed.
The boney spectre drew closer, looking up at his paralyzed face.
"You shouldn't be here...." it whispered, and it's voice was like the final breathe escaping a body already dead. Golric looked on, helpless.
The grim figure fumbled about itself for a moment, before producing what appeared to be a roll of cord or tape from some concealed pocket of it's robes. It held it up in it's bony claw so Golric could see it. A sense of confusion began to filter through the raw terror which gripped his body as he noted the marking upon it, the regularly spaced demarcations and odd numerals.
"Lets' see shall we?" hissed the skeletal figure, and it began to unroll the cord.
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