The visibility in the caverns was near to nothing, only the occasional slither of fungal luminscence reflecting off the brackish waters, he scowled at the albino form that glided past their boat.
Velek regarded the pitch black gloom, over his long years he had seen and fought many strange and horrible things, but the caverns troubled him, the town of Silverleaf stood directly above them.
For years it had catered for delvers who braved the catacombes searching for beasts to slay and sell the mana soaked carcasses or hidden treasures, however the caverns had erupted to hellish life as they now faced.
Everywhere they turned were monsters, the caverns were riddled with them, it must be connected to the arrival of the orks but why hadn't they or the monsters just attacked the town.
And how was his old friend Ciric involved, clearly the crusader had responded to the outbreak or the arrival of the orks, but why, what had drawn his friend away from his beloved ocean.
What was in that damned chest and how had the flow of the stream now reversed following their reaching the northern cavern.
The Owls - The Obsidian Lake
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The Owls - The Obsidian Lake
The cavern was lit by the fiery orange glow of Dungs awakening of the algae in its subterrean waters.
He had watched as Velek had surged forward with unnatural speed as he charged into the luminescent waters, in a single stroke he unsheathed a sword taller than Dung himself and lopped the head of the monstrous giant wading from its depths.
The fight didn't end there, the monster a sinuous, gangly slimy giant a good head and shoulders taller than Veleks great height didn't die with its head removed, no instead the accursed things head seemed intent on swimming back to its body.
Dung concentrated on calming its body, his power drawn from the rocks, the moss and lichens, the old magics from deep in the earth, whilst he tried to sooth the beast he heard the whispers of his spirit ally moving with agitation and alarm around the cave.
His senses were different from most, he saw and smelt things that normal folk couldn't dream of, closer to an animal than halfling, it had always been so, his kin were vital and athletic, not Dung, pale and skinny he had shared little of his families stoutness or comliness.
This had never been a problem his family were a protective bunch and had recognised his talent from an early age, he'd heard the wilds call from the time he could crawl.
However it wasn't until he was a boy that his wanderings into the woods brought him to the old one, an ancient spirit, it hadn't been kind but it taught him the ways of wild magics, of shifting shapes and brewing his concoctions.
Soon after Niamnh had encountered the old one, however her power had woken differently to his, it was this wild power that he called upon how, he allowed his senses to rise and open, as he did he started to see a spiderwork web of ghostly silverly threads that criss-crossed the entirety of the cavern ceiling.
Magical threads or thread weaving, a protective cradle and one that silently shook from a not so distant force, something was disturbing the web.
He had watched as Velek had surged forward with unnatural speed as he charged into the luminescent waters, in a single stroke he unsheathed a sword taller than Dung himself and lopped the head of the monstrous giant wading from its depths.
The fight didn't end there, the monster a sinuous, gangly slimy giant a good head and shoulders taller than Veleks great height didn't die with its head removed, no instead the accursed things head seemed intent on swimming back to its body.
Dung concentrated on calming its body, his power drawn from the rocks, the moss and lichens, the old magics from deep in the earth, whilst he tried to sooth the beast he heard the whispers of his spirit ally moving with agitation and alarm around the cave.
His senses were different from most, he saw and smelt things that normal folk couldn't dream of, closer to an animal than halfling, it had always been so, his kin were vital and athletic, not Dung, pale and skinny he had shared little of his families stoutness or comliness.
This had never been a problem his family were a protective bunch and had recognised his talent from an early age, he'd heard the wilds call from the time he could crawl.
However it wasn't until he was a boy that his wanderings into the woods brought him to the old one, an ancient spirit, it hadn't been kind but it taught him the ways of wild magics, of shifting shapes and brewing his concoctions.
Soon after Niamnh had encountered the old one, however her power had woken differently to his, it was this wild power that he called upon how, he allowed his senses to rise and open, as he did he started to see a spiderwork web of ghostly silverly threads that criss-crossed the entirety of the cavern ceiling.
Magical threads or thread weaving, a protective cradle and one that silently shook from a not so distant force, something was disturbing the web.