Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → The Adventurer, the Hunter, the Fighter, the Mage, and the Assassin.

The story will be split up into five separate tales; the number of chapters for each may very. Nevertheless, they will go in the order of the title. Please comment and enjoy.

Chapter 1: The Adventurer

I descend the rocky and moss covered slope leading into the tomb. The sound of the door behind slamming shut makes me jump. The only light emanates from the torch in my hand its bright orange light curling off the stonewalls the only light penetrating the darkness. The frigid musty air smells of decaying flesh and embalming fluid. Why have I entered this tomb? This place of death and shadow? I am not sure; unlike most people, my fear does not purge my desire to explore. It only arouses my curiosity, pushes me farther into the treacherous abyss of adventure. Therefore, I find myself searching the catacombs. Not necessarily for riches or fame, but just to see what lies deep in the darkness.

I reach the bottom of the slope; the path ahead veers around a corner to the left. I start to follow it but a shrill cry erupts from somewhere inside the tomb. The cry benumbs my body, for I have heard it before. It was the sound of a death wraith.

I remember from a story my father read me when I was younger. That like Medusa, looking into a death wraiths eyes is fatal, but instead of turning to stone death just takes their victims. Some say it is because they steal the personâs soul.

I wipe the sweat pouring down my face on my sleeve, and push on hoping my torch does not burn out before I find what I am looking for and make my way out. I round the corner and head down the straight passage nearly tripping over a rock. I stumble into an open chamber, barely catching myself on a stone coffin built into the floor. The white marble of its face is etched with a symbol. It is too dark to see what it is, but I can feel the shape. A solid diamond with a half sphere in the middle. I recognize the symbol from past crypts. The armorial symbol of the Maasburg lords, a shield embedded with an orb of power.

The Maasburg family was and is known to this day throughout Myrdal for collecting the orbs of power. The family had been collecting the orbs for over a hundred years. Each of the nine Maasburg sons had one. The orbs were bound to their discoverers who had to defeat the previous owner to obtain them. However, the orbs magic only allowed them to have one in their possession. This kept the power in balance across Myrdal. The orbs binding powers are so great that even in death they are bound to their masters.

I personally have never seen one of the orbs. Most of the Maasburg tombs have been picked clean. But this one seems untouched. I push on the sealed lid but it does not budge. Another scream comes from an opening cut into the stone of the opposite wall of the chamber. It sounds close, I need to hurry. I push harder but nothing happens. I look around the room; the flame of my torch is burning low. There is nothing to help me get it open. There is a low hiss from the darkness of the open doorway. The air freezes, my breathe flows from my mouth in clouds of white. A gust of chilled air blows through the room and my torch goes dark. For the first time in my life, I feel fear. I am alone in the pitch black with a Death Wraith.