The feeling Keith Chiemi was having right now was something he had not experienced in some months. Exhaustion. It was hard to tire him out. He worked hard every day at the crack of dawn to stay in top shape. His conditioning exercises even kept him more fit and dexterous than his gymnast/vigilante/martial-artist wife, even if he could never beat her in a straight-up fight. The last time he remembered being this exhausted was that long, horrible night in Toryll.
He would forever carry that night in the back of his mind as a check on himself. It lurked there like a specter, haunting him. Especially the early, pre-dawn hour before he- covered head to toe in blood and gore- finally wandered alone into the Temple of Levanter, screaming incoherently like a madman. It took three priests casting sleeping spells to finally put him into his first rest in almost two days.
This wasn’t quite there, not yet anyway. But the moment he had arrived in the strange, haunting world under the water, he knew he was in trouble. He went to investigate the place that girl Arianna had told him about. The Silver… or was it Golden? No, Silver Twilight Lodge. There ended up being nothing and no one there, almost a waste of time. However, when he put his hand on the doorknob to leave, in the blink of an eye he found himself somewhere else completely.
He found himself wishing for his old crossbow. He actually really liked these guns that this world seem to have invented, but the Derringer, as it was called, was not exactly the most reliable or powerful of them. He would have preferred the .38 or the .45 he had tried out, but he couldn’t come close to affording them even with the discount the store owner offered after witnessing his superb marksmanship. He always had the sword to fall back on, but even the sword was of subpar quality compared to what he was used to. He could hardly fight at maximum effectiveness if he couldn’t be confident in his weapons. And yet, sword in one hand, crossbow in the other was the only way he really knew how to fight. Everything else just felt weird. It took him at least a week to get used to the smaller weapon due to the weight alone, not to mention its terrible accuracy and range. He knew he should have waited until he had more money, but the threat from Nultros was high and there was no time to wait like that.
The place he had ended up was certainly stranger than anywhere else he had yet been on his journey, including the Elemental Plane of Earth. Actually, with its odd sense of, what had Wahzan called it? Gravity? He rather enjoyed that one. Looking around though at the aquatic landscape and queer, glowing, empty stone buildings, he was filled with a sense of dread in the very pit of his stomach. The strange, slow rumblings that made the entire city vibrate every few minutes set him on edge as well, feeling as if he had walked into the den of a beast of no equal. The whole city almost breathed.
Despite the glow, there was an odd blackness to it as well. A darkness that crept along, shifted and followed him wherever he went. With every turn he could feel it just over his shoulder, toying with him and mocking him. With each passing minute it got worse, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and his pulse race with anticipation. Still he fought the urge to turn and acknowledge it, somehow knowing that once that happened things would go from bad to worse. It was a game of cat and mouse, hunter and hunted. And for once, the veteran was on the other side of the equation.
He resolved to keep his head. There was a time and a place for confrontation. Not knowing what he was facing was a problem, so it was all he could do to choose the place where everything went down. Such was the right of the hunted. He began winding his way through the city, taking predominantly right turns in order to circle back into a courtyard he had passed through earlier.
In any other place it would have been called non-descript. The nature of the place he was in now prevented that though. The classical stonework was simple, and the wall surrounding it seemed to have been carved from the sea floor itself. The ground was set out in checkerboard fashion with a peculiar cross motif. There were patches of dirt but nothing grew, save the odd bit of coral sticking out at random. Eventually Keith stopped, flexing his fingers a few times before turning around to face whatever violence was behind him head on. He drew his weapons in a smooth and practiced motion and prepared for the worst.
The shadow that had had been stalking him was spread almost entirely where his blind spot was. It covered every inch of every building, road and freaky statue, completely blocking off the light coming from them. It was a writhing, messy, gooey mass as disgusting as it was horrifying.
There was a choice Keith had to make at this point. Fight or flight. The most basic of human survival instincts, and one that was drilled into him since he was a baby. Only idiots always fought, only cowards always ran. Neither survived very long. It was through the judicious application of training and development of decision-making abilities that not only lead to success, but survival itself.
He was reminded of that foggy morning in Carmea, when the ship that had crashed into the harbor burst open and latest incarnation of Nultros, the monster he had summoned in his previous life as Lord Cheoman, covered the town in a writhing, pulsing blanket of maggots. The Worm That Walked. Yet, this was far worse. Instead of a simple sentient collection of insects, this instead seemed to be pure, concentrated evil. And as soon as he finished turning around it had begun drawing itself together in preparation to attack. They had barely even attempted to fight that grotesque pile of maggots. This one was a no-brainer.
Flight.
He didn’t even bother putting his weapons away, he simply turned and ran, booking it as fast as he could. To where he couldn’t even tell. Right, left, right, right, left, left, right, left. His experience refused to allow him to fall into the usual trap of choosing his dominant hand, which despite rigorous training and remarkable progress throughout his life was still his right. He could feel the entire city closing in on him as the glow emanating from every building began to fade. This turned out to be both a blessing and a curse as it allowed him to finally find what would prove to be the way out of this mess.
He was being drawn to what seemed to be the center of town by a pulsing light. Whatever was chasing him seemed content to make him struggle, occasionally blocking off a path so that Keith was either forced to break through or go around. When he rounded the corner and saw the source of the light, panic finally crept into the edges of his thinking. It was a gate- and it was closing. Whether it led home or not, anything was preferable to staying here at the moment.
He kicked himself into overdrive, somehow gaining speed as his lungs burned and his muscles cried out to stop. The whiteness of a runner’s high was beginning to fog the edges of his vision. He pushed through the burning feeling and was able to dive through the gate just before it closed.
As he rolled through to the other side, he realized he was right back in the Lodge he had left. At once Niniel’s feelings poured through the ring. He could feel a tenseness which probably stress- maybe combat. Then a feeling of surprise and relief. She must have felt him return. He could only hope she was receiving the same. The feeling of déjà vu from the Plane of Earth returned. They had made it through a closing portal in very much the same way, abyssal horror on their tail and all. Surviving the same exact situation twice! Luck was certainly on his side today.
He picked himself up. Dusting himself off, he finally let himself relax a bit as he took in his surroundings. What awaited him on the other side of the gate was a dapper man in a white suit. He appeared to be watching the gate quite intently as well. Next to him was an oversized and quite viscious looking spider. Odd, but not too tough looking. Behind him though was a black… thing. It looked almost like a tree, but an oversized maw greeted those who might harbor that illusion. It let out a piercing shriek that was almost like an eagle’s cry, only backwards. It had also planted itself firmly in front of the door- the only way out.
The man simply smiled as if this were a simple, everyday occurrence. “Mr. Chiemi! You’ve returned! Well, it’s not like we didn’t prepare for this possibility. Lord Nultros did say you were notoriously hard to kill. But I’m sure my friends here will put that to the test.”
Damn my shitty luck.
