Seeing the striker miss the bell, Miroslaw's shoulders sulked downward. Perhaps it was the Gods way of telling him he should strike it himself and be a little less cowardly. With that thought, Miroslaw walked slowly down the stairs once again and recovered the fancy stick. He walked over to the bell, bringing the stick back baseball swing style. He forced it forward with all his might... and stopped just short of hitting the bell upon looking once more at the beast.
He began thinking to himself about the oddities of the situation. He wondered why the elder had not come down with him, and also how this worm would only enjoy the less than snack sized gnomes and leave a true snack, like himself, alone. Nothing seemed right. By ringing this bell, he is likely causing his own death. Unlike a few hours before, he wasn't ready to die. He still had a lot to do with his life.
He set the stick down and retrieved his book on creatures to see if he could find this behemoth within the pages. Right now, the only things he knew about the creature was that it's exceedingly large, it makes his heart beat with fright, its purple, and it has really big teeth. All his knowledge about the creature amounted to pretty much nothing. Any additional information he could find would surely be beneficial, even if its just knowing not to sound the dinner bell.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
((Or a sign from the gods to put some points in thrown weapons, lol.))
::Miroslaw opens the book and flips through. He finds nothing that imediatly seems to refer to the creature below. However, under an entry for dragons, he finds a passage hinting at great wingless "dragons" that live underground, burrowing through the earth to create tunnels. The passage seems to be filled with rumor and not much first hand knowledge so it is hard to tell if they were talking about the same thing.::
What Miroslaw read did little to put him at ease. Dragons were creatures of legends and if this beast had any relation with them, it was indeed alarming. He gently closed the book, quite unsatisfied by the information. This purple creature must really be something special.
Still, a problem remained. This bell is meant to be a dinner bell for this gargantuan creature, and being on level with the food when its rung hardly seemed like a secure plan. His throwing arm has never been very faithful, but his marksman eye was not too shabby.
He reached into his quiver searching for an odd arrow shaft. Finding it, he pulled it for examination. A blunt headed arrow. It would usually be used for heavy armored adversaries, but he had other designs for it this time. Once again, he made his way up the stairs to what he thought may be a safer distance from the food. After making it a good third of the way up, he notched the arrow and shot it with a great deal of force at the bell. Then, using the light, he would watch what may ensue.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
::The arrow struck the bell and it let out a soft ring. The pit shoke slightly as the beast below shifted. There was the sound of a heavy sigh as the mouth opened below Miroslaw and he could feel the air rush down and then back up as it drew breath. The air became humid with the moisture from the breath and smelled of rot and age.::
The odd air made Miroslaw's face contort from the unpleasantness. It seemed the soft ring of the bell may not be enough to wake the massive worm. Surely, a soft sound like that sounded even fainter to the behemoth. He sighed deeply, giving the worm another moment to wake and take his food. If it did not he would walk back down the stairs grumbling about having to spoon feed the creature.
He would walk to each of the gnome corpses, pick them up and sling them into the worms mouth. His job was merely to feed the worm, by tossing them into its mouth that was surely accomplishing his job. After tossing them, he would quickly run up the stairs from fear of what would happen if the beast waked to see a much larger meal standing before him.
Last Edit: Jul 31, 2014 19:13:48 GMT -5 by Miroslaw
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
::The dead warrior falls down into the slowly opening maw in the pit below without a sound. The older gnome that had died by Miroslaw's careless hand was next. She acred over the rail and down below where there came a sickening thud.
Were Miroslaw to glance back in his race for the top, he would see the body had landed on one of the teeth of the beast, its head looking up at the Soren as it slowly slid off the slick surface and down into the beast's stomach.
The area around Miroslaw would rumble again as Phaedon shifted and resumsed Its slumber. Miro makes it back to the top safely and sees a look of relief amid fear in the eyes of the waiting Elder.::
Miroslaw's heart was beating faster than it ever had. The fear the Wyrm struck in him was possibly the worst fear he had ever experienced. Knowing this Wyrm could likely destroy him with a single move forward was almost suffocating. Hearing it reposition just made it worse. Images of the Wyrm coming to life and attacking the Soren were all that were running through his mind.
That is, until Miroslaw glanced back to see the face of the murdered gnome. This brought back all the feelings the Soren had been feeling: Anger, Depression, and Self-loathing. He was the cause of these spirits being lost in eternal damnation. Being fed to a Wyrm rather than sent to the afterlife. Regardless, the Soren made it to the stop of the stairs, the sadness written all over his face.
He simply nodded to the relieved Elder signaling the deed was done. He would wait to consult the Elder on what to do about such a beast. Perhaps there was a way to defeat such a beast with proper preparations. For now, his redemption was complete, at least in terms of what the Elder wished him to do. His personal redemption was far from complete after the epiphany that he is not living his life as he should be.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.
(Woah. I was going to rob the old gnome and sell his staff thing. J/k a fantastic run!
After wrapping things up with the brainsick aged scholar, Miroslaw would begin the journey back to Wistvale without pause. It seems a job gone awry ended up satisfactory for most parties. A few innocent non-savage gnomes were slain by his own hands. Hopefully they could convince people the excavation team to halt their digging, especially after an account of what Miroslaw witnessed. The scholar got someone to talk to about his old stuff and a giant wingless dragon. Ramir got his gear. The Soren got his pay.
However, the pay came with a price. The events led the Soren to consider his spiritual beliefs, his "righteous" actions, and his existence as a whole. He caused a great deal of pain to what he thought to be savage gnomes despite him initially viewing the actions to be right. At the end of the day, that is enough to cause any good, religious Soren to question his life. But, at the end of the day, Miroslaw was still fifty gold richer.
Death is no more than turning us over from time to eternity. Whether that eternity is damnation or salvation is determined in the time we have.