So, it's 2012, and just when I'd finally gotten used to writing 2011 on the date... Typical. So, for those familiar with me as a person, you'll know I tend to get a little bit sentimental at new year. This year, I honestly haven't done that. I mean, I have, but I not in any deep, philosophical sense, I've just generally had a look back and realised just how good 2011 was as a year; sure, it had its downsides as well, but for the most part, it was a great year, and I'm very excited to see what 2012 has in store for us. But for now, I'm gonna kick back and have a bit of a scribble, and by scribble I mean type, obviously, but it's not planned. I'm just gonna see what happens.
The tomb was cold and the air was clogged with dust, mould and damp from centuries passed. Drevir held the lantern still while Folari scratched with his lockpicks to scrape away the caked layer of grime from the lock of the burial chest that had caught his interest. The tomb shook with a low rumble and Drevir turned sharply to stare at the entrance. There was no way that beast could fit through such a small passage, surely? "Light!" Drevir blinked and turned back, holding the lantern steady once more while Folari had managed to clear enough of the lock to work his picks in to. His brow furrowed and his tongue poked out as he focussed, listening for the inner workings that only years of experience had taught him how to hear. He gave a smug smirk as the lock finally submitted to his masterful skill; there was the faintest of clicks and a small cloud of dust as air entered the chest for possibly the first time in three hundred years. The ground rumbled once more, "For feth's sake, Drevir! I thought you'd killed that chucker?!" Drevir shrugged and set the lantern on the floor, unsheathing his greatsword, "Funny thing about trolls, Fol, they regenerate..." Folari rolled his eyes and glanced to Genhir, Drevir's brother. The young northman was knelt by the door in a circle of chalk, uttering prayers of warding to protect them while they looted, but Folari wasn't sure how long they would work for with an enraged troll on the loose. He quickly turned his attention back to the treasure chest. His eyes widened and his mouth hung open slightly, "By the crown, I knew this one was worth the effort." Drevir glanced over, "Gold?" Folari shook his head and stood, turning and tossing a long, wrapped item to Drevir "Burial gifts. There's armour in here, and this must've been the poor sod lord's weapon. Open it!" The ground rumbled once more, louder and stronger than before. Genhir looked up from his prayers and stood, turning to run over to the others whilst signing a religious gesture across his chest with his hands, "I've done all I can, but that barrier won't hold for long." He look at Drevir as his older brother unwrapped the cloth of the item, revealing an ornate golden coloured polearm, like a glaive in nature. Drevir swung it to get a feel for its weight and gave an approving nod. The two brothers looks to Folari, who had already removed his armour and had begun to don the armour he'd just discovered; it was leather, like his own, but it was the deepest of reds in colour and had etched markings across it. The right shoulderpad of the armour also curved into a half gorget over Folari's mouth. The redness of the armour complemented the deep olive of his Forestkine skin; it gave an almost sinister look to the otherwise lighthearted thief. he fastened his equipment belts and his scabbards over the armour and unsheathed his own weapons - two matched short swords, the blades were thin and pointed, allowing to better thrust and stab at vital areas, but were also sharply edged for slashing. He noted that the armour felt lighter than his old suit, which he held no sentimental value toward, so was content with leaving it here in this tomb. He looked to the others, his deep brown eyes narrowing as he noticed the shadow of the troll emerging around the corner of the corridor, "Sharp as steel gents, company's here..." The three braced themselves as the troll advanced. They readied their weapons and said whatever prayers they had to whatever gods were listening. They knew that this would be more of a challenge than they had ever face. They were initially lucky, catching the troll off guard before, but now it was ready, now it was angry, and now it had gained a taste for their blood...
So there we go. Yeah, I got Skyrim for Christmas, so my head's in a fantasy quest based adventure mode, so I thought I'd bring in some kind of adventuring party story to the plate. I like it in honesty, so expect more.
Adios for now,
God bless,
Craiggy.
