Found myself inspired, with LOG2 coming out very soon to move the story forward, and here's what I can up with...
Endless gears seemed to swirl and drift through the black void of space. Some connected, some disjointed, some spinning out of control, some rusted and broken.
Then there was a voice, “What is happening? A collective dream? Oh, I know you. I know what you seek.
Look for me down below, and I might help you.”
Blaz’tik sat up, his three hearts pounding furiously in his chest. This was the second time now, that he had found a small place to rest in the dungeon and been transported to the unusual gear-dream, for lack of a better word. It was now Blaz’tik regretted testing his theory if it had been a teleporter or an incinerator as Tawmis suggested, for he had been teleported away from the others – and none of the others seemed to have followed him through.
Not that he blamed them. They probably thought he had been reduced to ash by the shimmering lights.
That’s when the voice from the dream spoke into Blaz’tik’s mind yet again. “I can't hear you but I know you can hear me. I tried to talk to the other people that have been here before you. They were criminals but I sense that you I can trust.”
Blaz’tik stumbled backwards, “The –tic!- voice from my dream! How are you speaking to me?”
Blaz’tik waited for answer, and finally heaved a sigh of relief, assuming his imagination was getting the best of him, when suddenly he heard it again, “Are you still there? I know a way out but I can't make it there by myself. We need to work together. Descend towards the bottom of the mountain. We can meet there.”
Blaz’tik paled, even for an insectoid who was already nearly white. “I can hear you, but you can’t seem to hear me?”
He waited, and once again there was silence. Now more than ever, Blaz’tik felt very alone, and yet felt as if there were eyes now watching his every move. The very stone itself was alive, as he had once said, and it was somehow watching him – speaking to him.
Could the voice be the one he thought it to be? But that would be impossible. He was cast down here long, long ago. The stories of his imprisonment and creation, as well as his damnation, were all fabricated tales.
Blaz’tik moved cautiously through Grimrock, using his invisibility spell, now that he had the components for it, when needed, bypassing untold horrors that slithered around, waiting for something to feed upon. He found a small room with a steel door and locked himself inside of it to rest.
Once again as he drifted to sleep, space and time seemed to bend. Blackness swirled, mixed with crimson red, and once again, the spinning gears returned to his dream, preceding the arrival of the mysterious voice.
“I watched this dungeon being built. But they took it away from my people and twisted it. Filled it with traps and riddles. That is not how this place was meant to be. They make all the gates open and cause the traps to spring. It would be simple for them to stop us. Why will they not do it? Are we walking into another trap of theirs? Be careful. You are not the only ones held prisoner here. I, too, was cast down an abyss. I was bound with shackles. They keep all the machinery and mechanisms working in the dungeon.
All but one that sits in the tunnels below. It needs to be repaired so we can leave this place. Only a little bit further. You need to be careful. They live here and they will want to stop you. They fear you might undo their vision. The broken mechanism controls the Portal. From there we can escape. I am still too weak to move but I am glad you are making progress. I need to gather my strength so we can leave together. We can leave together. Leave together. Leave. Together.”
Blaz’tik awoke, once more, with his three hearts beating furiously.
“It’s –tic!- him,” Blaz’tik muttered. “It’s really him. The Undying One is real.”
Elsewhere in the dungeon…
Coy kneeled down, his Ratling eyes always looking for things to salvage. He picked up a small pouch and examined it, “Look,” he said, holding it up to the others.
“So you found a bag,” Tawmis muttered. “Does it have a magic key that gets us out of this place?”
“I know this magic bag,” Coy said, his nose twitching.
“Know it?” Tawmis asked.
“Yes, as in I gave it to the mage,” Coy said. He opened the bag and revealed flecks of grounded acorns. “By the looks of it, he may have passed through here.”
“So that means he wasn’t incinerated,” Taren said, with a nodding approval. “It will be good if we can find him again.”
“Preferably in one piece,” Tawmis added. “Can you tell which way he went?”
“By the looks of it,” Coy brushed the ground with his hand and looked a little down the hall where he saw a large, seared piece of flesh, “I’d say he went that way after melting the skin off whatever that thing was.”
Silvertan kneeled down, “An ice lizard,” he said, pulling back some of its burned flesh and seeing some of the ice blue scales, “or what’s left of it. I am surprised that our insectoid friend was able to use such a powerful spell,” Silvertan hissed. “He didn’t strike me as someone capable of such powerful magic.”
“It’s Grimrock,” Coy replied. “The magic flowing through the entire mountain that keeps the torches alive, the life stones, all of it is channeling into him, charging him like a battery.” The Ratling paused, “Soon he will be casting very powerful magic – until it either burns his body out, or corrupts him and he becomes one of the horrors that haunts these halls forever.”
“That’s,” Tawmis paused, “a cheery thought.”
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Tawmis Sanarius – Human (Son of Contar Stoneskull and Yennica Whitefeather) - Warrior
Taren Bloodhorn – Minotaur - Warrior
Blaz’tik – Insectoid - Mage
Silvertan – Lizardman - Rogue
Coy – Ratling from the Isle of Nex – Rogue
