Lost Soul

The Never Ending Quest - Episode 5143

drip, drip, drip
there was something wet on Fred's face

drip, drip, splish
there was something wet but Fred wasn't sure what

drip splish drip splash
Fred wasn't sure because he couldn't open his eyes


"You two rest," said Lem. "I'll take first watch."

That's how the evening began. Camp had been set up, a meal prepared, watch set. The ever-present deadrels were still in the branches of the trees, the dwarves were conversing in their own language, and Fred was left to his own devices.

His thoughts had fixed upon the grim discovery of the glade, and the sense that they were lost within some malignant maze made of root, bark, limb and leaf. ~~am I mad?~~ thought Fred. ~~three days and still no end; noise and silence, flittering shadows and unalterable shade, and the stink of death~~


drip, splish, drip
Fred tried to open his eyes - but he couldn't
First watch had come and gone, as did second. By third Fred layed his head upon his swath of cloth which served as pillow and closed his eyes.
splish, drip, drip
Fred had felt something press gently against his belly and then as quickly it was gone. Opening his eyes all he had seen was darkness punctuated by the few burning twigs of the campfire. Two dwarves had been on the ground in bedrolls while one was standing some distance away as guard. Fred had felt too tired and so closed his eyes again.
splash, drip, drip splish
There had been noise in the night, long after he had gone to sleep - horrible and grotesque it was. Fred had felt his body heave as if some unseen worm crept underneath his bedroll. He had flailed about in the darkness feeling for his sword. He had looked wildly about yet saw nothing: the fire had gone out, extinguished! The fire was gone and the air full of croaking, shouts and other sounds. Finally Fred had found his sword...
drip, drip, drip
Fred, left blind, had felt the flap of wing, the bump of bark, the screech of claw, and the buttress of some stone-like bodies. He had swung in that blackness; had swerved and leapt; he had pounded the forms that attacked and backed off when pressed too much. And then something had grappled him and knocked him to the ground.
drip, splish, drip

Fred couldn't move, he couldn't see, he couldn't speak. He was like a dead man - just like the parchment had said.


Then he felt a weight upon his belly and his sight returned, and with it his strength. What he saw as he looked about made him sick to his stomach. He found himself as before, in the same encampment, yet now the fire was burning brighter than ever with new wood. He saw a dwarf leaning against a tree not three meters from him, yet he was leaning upon it and his head was inclined at an unnatural angle - the result of having a broken neck. There were three deadrels perched upon his shoulders feeding upon his face. There was also a dwarf-sized lump in a bedroll by the fireside, yet the roll itself was drenched in red. Another small group of deadrels were hopping about the pooled blood sipping at it. The last dwarf was the worst; it was Lem. He was hanging in a tree right above Fred, wrapped in moss and upside-down. It was his blood that had been dripping upon Fred's face - his dwarven blood. The look on Lem's face was one of utter shock and surprise.

And then Fred saw the sword in his hand, the sword dripping red, and he noticed how his armour glowed in tandem with the fire. Then he heard the voice: "Come here, killer."

Turning, Fred saw a woman, tall and beauteous with flaming red hair and glowing pearl eyes and, almost unnoticeable, two tiny horns protruding from her forehead.

"What have I done!?!" screamed Fred.

  1. and then Fred woke up

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10/29/1999 8:01:52 PM

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