Just a Grimrock Story
Posted: Sun May 13, 2012 4:06 am
It was clear the lizardman was dead - not even lizards can twist their necks so far around. His slimy, obscene tongue was free from his mouth and it stuck to the side of his face and neck. The large dark pupils of his eyes were rolled up into his head and the once bright orange rings of his narrow irises were now browned and dull.
Jarmor watched for a moment as the lizardwoman attempted to soothe her dead mate but turned away after he felt a sickening feeling growing in his stomach. He wasn't sure if it was his own imminent death or the pitiful way the lizardwoman was behaving but it wretched at his guts and made his mouth taste of bile.
The minotaur was making a terrible racket, grunting and snorting and struggling against the chain attached to his ankle - attached to all their ankles. Jarmor wanted to warn him that he was likely to attract the dungeons denizens with such noise but he wasn't sure how the minotaur would react. He needed more time to feel out the situation and hopefully take control. If he had to face off with the minotaur for leadership, he'd need the others to be on his side.
In one corner of the corridor, as far as her chain would allow her to go, sat the mage massaging her ankle and whimpering. She'd had it the worst of them - well, outside of the lizardman, who had been pushed down the hole first and therefore served as a landing cushion for the rest of them. It was probably the minotaur coming down on top of him that ended it but there was no way to be sure. If he'd been an insectoid, Jarmor might have been unable to restrain himself from joking about bugs and how common it was for them to get squished.
The mage, however, had it the worst of the ones still living. They had stripped her of everything before walking her up to the airship to deliver her to Grimrock. He'd been left his trousers, the lizardwoman kept her ratty loincloth, and the minotaur had somehow been allowed both his leather tunic and vest.
But the mage - well, how were they to know what was enchanted and what was not? They didn't want her flying back up out of the mountain or walking through walls or whatever it was mages did when they were being cowardly. They wanted her to accept her fate. It was only fair.
Jarmor had taken a few glimpses of her - he was a man, after all - but she was too scrawny to interest him. She had light blonde hair, short and unruly, and green eyes. Likely they hadn't fed her much while she was captive. She was probably hungry. And cold. And now she looked up at him with her big teary eyes and Jarmor turned away from her too. He wouldn't feel pity for the lizardwoman and he wouldn't feel pity for the mage, human or no. The only person he could afford to feel for was himself because he wasn't going to die here. He'd make it out. Maybe the minotaur would make it out with him. The females? Doomed. Better to write them off as dead now and not waste any effort on them.
"Minotaur," Jarmor said, "what is your name?"
The minotaur snorted and narrowed his filmy brown eyes at Jarmor.
"You may call me Victor," he said. His voice was thunderous and proud. "It is what my name means in your language."
"Victor, my name is Jarmor."
"That means nothing in my language."
"It means nothing in my language too," Jarmor said with a shrug. "What do you think of these chains?"
"Imposing and well-wrought."
"Well, we should try to keep down the clatter, Victor. Whatever's in here has heard it before and it probably sounds like a dinner bell to them."
Victor grunted.
"If you are concerned with noise," he said, "perhaps you should start your hushing on that human female in the corner. Her sobs are more likely to draw predators than my hearty rumbles. I am doubtless the only thing keeping the creatures at bay!"
The lizardwoman walked between them dragging her dead mate - it was the only route the chains would allow her to go. She struggled to hoist him onto a shelf constructed into one of the walls. Once she finally had him in place, she crossed his arms, curled his tongue into his mouth, and kissed his forehead.
Victor shook his head. Judging from the gnaw marks on the bones scattered about the entrance, whatever had attacked and eaten these people was certainly big enough to reach that shelf. She might as well lie him on a plate with silverware and announce supper.
"Mage," Jarmor called, "are you injured? What is your name?"
"I'm Sametha. My ankle was twisted," she said.
"Sametha, can you walk?"
Sametha stood up and took a tentative step towards the group. She nodded.
"I can walk. It just hurts a little," she said. The man was sneering at her and the minotaur only looked slightly less disgusted. She realized that her crying was irritating them. She wiped her snotty nose with the back of her arm and calmed herself with a couple deep breaths. She said, "Everyone calls me Sam. Sam the Cursed."
"How appropriate," snorted Victor.
"Because things always seem to go wrong for me," she explained to Jarmor, who didn't seem to understand. He only looked from her - as he'd done before - and was now focusing on the lizardwoman. Sam frowned. Did she do something wrong? She'd stopped crying. What else did he want?
Victor chuckled and shook his head. Already he could sense that the group was doomed. Even the two most like each other - the human male and female - were confounded by one another.
Jarmor asked, "And you, lizard - are you hurt? Who are you?"
"Hesshia," she replied. "I am only a merchant. And my husband, Ashisses, also a merchant." She pointed to the cramped and lifeless lizardman on the shelf.
"He is nothing more now," said Victor.
"He is free. I have removed his chain," Hesshia said, holding up an empty manacle.
Victor nodded. The lizardwoman had done a good thing. It hadn't been an easy task, given the mangled look of the dead lizardman's foot, but at least they wouldn't have to drag him along until they found some way to remove the chains. He felt a better strength from her now.
Victor said, "He is free."
Hesshia nodded in return.
Sam sighed. Everyone seemed to have control of themselves and the situation but all she could think of to do was cry. They already didn't like her. But she was, after all, cursed - why should she expect any different?
"Let's get aware of each other as quickly as we can. My name is Jarmor. I'm a captain - a military prisoner. Politics have placed me here. I can handle myself in a fight, but I'd prefer to have a sword. From the rumors, there's sure to be some down here. We need to get armed as fast as we can."
"We need water," said Hesshia.
"Food," said Victor.
"Yes, of course. We can look for all three," Jarmor said. "Sam, do you know any useful spells? Can you set things on fire?"
Sam frowned.
"No," she said. "I don't know anything like that. I haven't been trained."
"Training does not matter. I have been trained to be a carpenter," said Victor. "My father was trained to be a woodcutter. However, I am certain I can use any weapon we find here. You must also be certain of whatever skills you have, mage."
"I can use a bow," said Hesshia, "from hunting. Knives, from skinning."
Sam said, "I need something - to wear." She covered herself as best she could when they all turned to her.
Jarmor nodded. "We'll find some clothes, I'm sure. Don't worry."
"I like the way you are now," said Victor with a laugh.
Sam looked at the minotaur and was relieved to see only humor in his expression.
"I'm cold," she said.
"That's a good reason to figure out some magic then," said Jarmor.
"Wait," she said with a smile, "I can do light."
After muttering some words, a light blue glow surrounded her. She felt warmer now but she wasn't sure if it was the illusion of warmth from the spell or the sudden joyful feeling of finding herself useful.
Jarmor shielded his eyes. It was a wavering, unsteady light and it only extended some thirty feet in any direction. He felt an eerie shiver swim over him as he noticed the unnatural blue tint of the light.
"Don't look," she said when Jarmor turned around.
Sam seemed to be glowing since the light was emanating from her. She covered her body as best she could with her arms but it was no use - a fire might as well try to hide itself in night.
Victor laughed. "I have found a predator, Jarmor. By the look of your face, it is you."
Jarmor shook his head and turned away from her.
"It's this light," he said. "It's strange. It's going to attract attention."
"No more than a torch might," Victor said.
"Then let's find a torch. This is going to make me ill."
"Lead the way, sir," said Victor.
"Hess-er-uh, you - you and Sam stay in the back. Here, hop over this chain here. There you go. Now there's plenty of slack so watch your footing and don't get tangled. Ok, now, we all start walking. We'll get the hang of it. We'll find a way out of these chains soon enough anyway."
It was Victor who ended up setting the pace of their movement but no one seemed comfortable with it, not even him. He yanked at the chain suddenly sometimes and other times it went so slack that Sam and Hesshia were stumbling over the clattering links.
The corridor couldn't have been much more than a thousand feet long but at the end of it they all sat down to catch their breath. There was a gate barring the way forward, but nobody seemed interested in finding a way to open it just yet.
"I must admit," Victor said, "movement in this condition is more arduous than expected."
"We'll get the hang of it," Jarmor said again.
"It may be better if I twist off each of your feet and carry on alone."
"The chains must weigh a hundred pounds or more," Hesshia said. "How far will you go with the burden of such weight?"
"My strength would not fail me on such a price as the remainder of my life," Victor said, "but I don't relish the thought of twisting off your pretty little feet. I fear it will give me nightmares."
Jarmor glanced over at Hesshia. She was pretty, for a lizard. The women of their kind seemed to take more after humans than the men of their kind. The men looked like toads, mostly, or craggy like the bark of a tree. The women, however, were mostly just humans in hues of green. Sure, there was a tail, and scaly skin, and no hair but, to be honest, they were quite womanly.
Hesshia didn't back down from Jarmor's stare. She wasn't sure if he was judging or coveting her, but she wouldn't shy from either. If he judged her, she would make sure he found her to be a strong and reliable fighter. If he desired her - well, her mate was dead now and her kind were never long in mourning.
Jarmor looked away when she caught his eyes. He wasn't interested in lizardwomen. Although he had heard of such pairings occurring, to him it was unnatural. If the minotaur wanted to pursue his twisted lust, that was all his business.
"Look," Jomar said, shaking the thoughts from his head, "we're all exhausted. We haven't slept right in days. Let's bunk up here where it seems relatively safe and get a better start tomorrow. I'll rotate the watch with Victor so we'll all get some sleep."
"I can keep watch," Hesshia said.
"Me too," said Sam the Cursed. "I can keep watch, too." She decided that she would take her cues from Hesshia. The lizardwoman seemed to have already impressed both Jarmor and Victor and Sam wanted to make the same impression - she was just as strong and reliable as Hesshia.
Victor nodded at the women.
"They are correct, Jarmor. No one should be excluded from a duty to the others," he said, "and I would certainly like my fair share of sleep."
"That's fine then. If everyone feels up to it, then that's fine. Good. I'll take the first watch. Sam, will your -uh- spell keep going while you're asleep?"
"Yes."
"Good. Good. Now you three try to get some rest."
Victor nestled into the corner and settled himself in for sleep with a series of grunts and snorts. Hesshia curled against him on one side and Sam hesitantly leaned on his other side. He drew the mage against him with his burly arm and she settled in and shut her eyes.
Jarmor shook his head. He wasn't sure exactly what was upsetting him at the moment but he knew was that he was irritated. It seemed that they were all allied against him.
He had so far failed to secure his role as leader over the group. He felt that the women were ready to accept him in that role but Victor, the stubborn minotaur, kept testing his authority. Even now when he took the initiative to take first watch over the group, Victor made it seem like it was an insignificant sacrifice.
Jarmor stared at the minotaur. Victor was already asleep and he seemed to have no fear of being vulnerable to Jarmor or to the creatures in this dungeon. It was almost insulting, he thought. Victor had the gall to challenge him but didn't have the intelligence to be wary of the possible consequences.
Jarmor flinched when the minotaur's eyes suddenly opened.
Victor said, "If you find that an approaching confrontation is hopeless for us to defend, please do not wake me, Jarmor. I would rather die in my slumber."
"I would rather die honorably in battle," Jarmor said with a sneer.
"Then you have found yourself in the perfect place," said Victor. He closed his eyes again.
Jarmor snorted, but it sounded weak and silly compared to the minotaur's heavy breath. Thankfully, it seemed that neither of the women had been conscious of the interaction. The strange struggle for leadership would continue - he actively trying to gain the footing and the minotaur passively resisting. It was obvious to Jarmor that Victor didn't want the responsibility of leadership yet he had trouble allowing someone else to have that position. He hoped that the minotaur would accept him as leader before the struggle got them all killed.
Jarmor turned his back on the trio and stared off into the darkness.
For now, the only struggle would be against relentless boredom. If he fell asleep, they would probably all die. If he managed to stay awake, they would probably all die anyway.
The disgraced soldier sighed. This was not how his life was supposed to end.
Jarmor watched for a moment as the lizardwoman attempted to soothe her dead mate but turned away after he felt a sickening feeling growing in his stomach. He wasn't sure if it was his own imminent death or the pitiful way the lizardwoman was behaving but it wretched at his guts and made his mouth taste of bile.
The minotaur was making a terrible racket, grunting and snorting and struggling against the chain attached to his ankle - attached to all their ankles. Jarmor wanted to warn him that he was likely to attract the dungeons denizens with such noise but he wasn't sure how the minotaur would react. He needed more time to feel out the situation and hopefully take control. If he had to face off with the minotaur for leadership, he'd need the others to be on his side.
In one corner of the corridor, as far as her chain would allow her to go, sat the mage massaging her ankle and whimpering. She'd had it the worst of them - well, outside of the lizardman, who had been pushed down the hole first and therefore served as a landing cushion for the rest of them. It was probably the minotaur coming down on top of him that ended it but there was no way to be sure. If he'd been an insectoid, Jarmor might have been unable to restrain himself from joking about bugs and how common it was for them to get squished.
The mage, however, had it the worst of the ones still living. They had stripped her of everything before walking her up to the airship to deliver her to Grimrock. He'd been left his trousers, the lizardwoman kept her ratty loincloth, and the minotaur had somehow been allowed both his leather tunic and vest.
But the mage - well, how were they to know what was enchanted and what was not? They didn't want her flying back up out of the mountain or walking through walls or whatever it was mages did when they were being cowardly. They wanted her to accept her fate. It was only fair.
Jarmor had taken a few glimpses of her - he was a man, after all - but she was too scrawny to interest him. She had light blonde hair, short and unruly, and green eyes. Likely they hadn't fed her much while she was captive. She was probably hungry. And cold. And now she looked up at him with her big teary eyes and Jarmor turned away from her too. He wouldn't feel pity for the lizardwoman and he wouldn't feel pity for the mage, human or no. The only person he could afford to feel for was himself because he wasn't going to die here. He'd make it out. Maybe the minotaur would make it out with him. The females? Doomed. Better to write them off as dead now and not waste any effort on them.
"Minotaur," Jarmor said, "what is your name?"
The minotaur snorted and narrowed his filmy brown eyes at Jarmor.
"You may call me Victor," he said. His voice was thunderous and proud. "It is what my name means in your language."
"Victor, my name is Jarmor."
"That means nothing in my language."
"It means nothing in my language too," Jarmor said with a shrug. "What do you think of these chains?"
"Imposing and well-wrought."
"Well, we should try to keep down the clatter, Victor. Whatever's in here has heard it before and it probably sounds like a dinner bell to them."
Victor grunted.
"If you are concerned with noise," he said, "perhaps you should start your hushing on that human female in the corner. Her sobs are more likely to draw predators than my hearty rumbles. I am doubtless the only thing keeping the creatures at bay!"
The lizardwoman walked between them dragging her dead mate - it was the only route the chains would allow her to go. She struggled to hoist him onto a shelf constructed into one of the walls. Once she finally had him in place, she crossed his arms, curled his tongue into his mouth, and kissed his forehead.
Victor shook his head. Judging from the gnaw marks on the bones scattered about the entrance, whatever had attacked and eaten these people was certainly big enough to reach that shelf. She might as well lie him on a plate with silverware and announce supper.
"Mage," Jarmor called, "are you injured? What is your name?"
"I'm Sametha. My ankle was twisted," she said.
"Sametha, can you walk?"
Sametha stood up and took a tentative step towards the group. She nodded.
"I can walk. It just hurts a little," she said. The man was sneering at her and the minotaur only looked slightly less disgusted. She realized that her crying was irritating them. She wiped her snotty nose with the back of her arm and calmed herself with a couple deep breaths. She said, "Everyone calls me Sam. Sam the Cursed."
"How appropriate," snorted Victor.
"Because things always seem to go wrong for me," she explained to Jarmor, who didn't seem to understand. He only looked from her - as he'd done before - and was now focusing on the lizardwoman. Sam frowned. Did she do something wrong? She'd stopped crying. What else did he want?
Victor chuckled and shook his head. Already he could sense that the group was doomed. Even the two most like each other - the human male and female - were confounded by one another.
Jarmor asked, "And you, lizard - are you hurt? Who are you?"
"Hesshia," she replied. "I am only a merchant. And my husband, Ashisses, also a merchant." She pointed to the cramped and lifeless lizardman on the shelf.
"He is nothing more now," said Victor.
"He is free. I have removed his chain," Hesshia said, holding up an empty manacle.
Victor nodded. The lizardwoman had done a good thing. It hadn't been an easy task, given the mangled look of the dead lizardman's foot, but at least they wouldn't have to drag him along until they found some way to remove the chains. He felt a better strength from her now.
Victor said, "He is free."
Hesshia nodded in return.
Sam sighed. Everyone seemed to have control of themselves and the situation but all she could think of to do was cry. They already didn't like her. But she was, after all, cursed - why should she expect any different?
"Let's get aware of each other as quickly as we can. My name is Jarmor. I'm a captain - a military prisoner. Politics have placed me here. I can handle myself in a fight, but I'd prefer to have a sword. From the rumors, there's sure to be some down here. We need to get armed as fast as we can."
"We need water," said Hesshia.
"Food," said Victor.
"Yes, of course. We can look for all three," Jarmor said. "Sam, do you know any useful spells? Can you set things on fire?"
Sam frowned.
"No," she said. "I don't know anything like that. I haven't been trained."
"Training does not matter. I have been trained to be a carpenter," said Victor. "My father was trained to be a woodcutter. However, I am certain I can use any weapon we find here. You must also be certain of whatever skills you have, mage."
"I can use a bow," said Hesshia, "from hunting. Knives, from skinning."
Sam said, "I need something - to wear." She covered herself as best she could when they all turned to her.
Jarmor nodded. "We'll find some clothes, I'm sure. Don't worry."
"I like the way you are now," said Victor with a laugh.
Sam looked at the minotaur and was relieved to see only humor in his expression.
"I'm cold," she said.
"That's a good reason to figure out some magic then," said Jarmor.
"Wait," she said with a smile, "I can do light."
After muttering some words, a light blue glow surrounded her. She felt warmer now but she wasn't sure if it was the illusion of warmth from the spell or the sudden joyful feeling of finding herself useful.
Jarmor shielded his eyes. It was a wavering, unsteady light and it only extended some thirty feet in any direction. He felt an eerie shiver swim over him as he noticed the unnatural blue tint of the light.
"Don't look," she said when Jarmor turned around.
Sam seemed to be glowing since the light was emanating from her. She covered her body as best she could with her arms but it was no use - a fire might as well try to hide itself in night.
Victor laughed. "I have found a predator, Jarmor. By the look of your face, it is you."
Jarmor shook his head and turned away from her.
"It's this light," he said. "It's strange. It's going to attract attention."
"No more than a torch might," Victor said.
"Then let's find a torch. This is going to make me ill."
"Lead the way, sir," said Victor.
"Hess-er-uh, you - you and Sam stay in the back. Here, hop over this chain here. There you go. Now there's plenty of slack so watch your footing and don't get tangled. Ok, now, we all start walking. We'll get the hang of it. We'll find a way out of these chains soon enough anyway."
It was Victor who ended up setting the pace of their movement but no one seemed comfortable with it, not even him. He yanked at the chain suddenly sometimes and other times it went so slack that Sam and Hesshia were stumbling over the clattering links.
The corridor couldn't have been much more than a thousand feet long but at the end of it they all sat down to catch their breath. There was a gate barring the way forward, but nobody seemed interested in finding a way to open it just yet.
"I must admit," Victor said, "movement in this condition is more arduous than expected."
"We'll get the hang of it," Jarmor said again.
"It may be better if I twist off each of your feet and carry on alone."
"The chains must weigh a hundred pounds or more," Hesshia said. "How far will you go with the burden of such weight?"
"My strength would not fail me on such a price as the remainder of my life," Victor said, "but I don't relish the thought of twisting off your pretty little feet. I fear it will give me nightmares."
Jarmor glanced over at Hesshia. She was pretty, for a lizard. The women of their kind seemed to take more after humans than the men of their kind. The men looked like toads, mostly, or craggy like the bark of a tree. The women, however, were mostly just humans in hues of green. Sure, there was a tail, and scaly skin, and no hair but, to be honest, they were quite womanly.
Hesshia didn't back down from Jarmor's stare. She wasn't sure if he was judging or coveting her, but she wouldn't shy from either. If he judged her, she would make sure he found her to be a strong and reliable fighter. If he desired her - well, her mate was dead now and her kind were never long in mourning.
Jarmor looked away when she caught his eyes. He wasn't interested in lizardwomen. Although he had heard of such pairings occurring, to him it was unnatural. If the minotaur wanted to pursue his twisted lust, that was all his business.
"Look," Jomar said, shaking the thoughts from his head, "we're all exhausted. We haven't slept right in days. Let's bunk up here where it seems relatively safe and get a better start tomorrow. I'll rotate the watch with Victor so we'll all get some sleep."
"I can keep watch," Hesshia said.
"Me too," said Sam the Cursed. "I can keep watch, too." She decided that she would take her cues from Hesshia. The lizardwoman seemed to have already impressed both Jarmor and Victor and Sam wanted to make the same impression - she was just as strong and reliable as Hesshia.
Victor nodded at the women.
"They are correct, Jarmor. No one should be excluded from a duty to the others," he said, "and I would certainly like my fair share of sleep."
"That's fine then. If everyone feels up to it, then that's fine. Good. I'll take the first watch. Sam, will your -uh- spell keep going while you're asleep?"
"Yes."
"Good. Good. Now you three try to get some rest."
Victor nestled into the corner and settled himself in for sleep with a series of grunts and snorts. Hesshia curled against him on one side and Sam hesitantly leaned on his other side. He drew the mage against him with his burly arm and she settled in and shut her eyes.
Jarmor shook his head. He wasn't sure exactly what was upsetting him at the moment but he knew was that he was irritated. It seemed that they were all allied against him.
He had so far failed to secure his role as leader over the group. He felt that the women were ready to accept him in that role but Victor, the stubborn minotaur, kept testing his authority. Even now when he took the initiative to take first watch over the group, Victor made it seem like it was an insignificant sacrifice.
Jarmor stared at the minotaur. Victor was already asleep and he seemed to have no fear of being vulnerable to Jarmor or to the creatures in this dungeon. It was almost insulting, he thought. Victor had the gall to challenge him but didn't have the intelligence to be wary of the possible consequences.
Jarmor flinched when the minotaur's eyes suddenly opened.
Victor said, "If you find that an approaching confrontation is hopeless for us to defend, please do not wake me, Jarmor. I would rather die in my slumber."
"I would rather die honorably in battle," Jarmor said with a sneer.
"Then you have found yourself in the perfect place," said Victor. He closed his eyes again.
Jarmor snorted, but it sounded weak and silly compared to the minotaur's heavy breath. Thankfully, it seemed that neither of the women had been conscious of the interaction. The strange struggle for leadership would continue - he actively trying to gain the footing and the minotaur passively resisting. It was obvious to Jarmor that Victor didn't want the responsibility of leadership yet he had trouble allowing someone else to have that position. He hoped that the minotaur would accept him as leader before the struggle got them all killed.
Jarmor turned his back on the trio and stared off into the darkness.
For now, the only struggle would be against relentless boredom. If he fell asleep, they would probably all die. If he managed to stay awake, they would probably all die anyway.
The disgraced soldier sighed. This was not how his life was supposed to end.
