Death of Moon and Darkness: Part 4

Death of Moon and Darkness: Part 41

Soft sounds of the gentle tide lapped in Andellin's ears.  His vision cleared as his eyes opened and he finally came awake.  He struggled to stand on his weathered legs.  Weak from the time floating at sea.  He had no idea how long it had been ... days, weeks, months.  He didn't know, but it didn't matter.  He was alive.2

He had lost the ship, the crew, Crillo, Torbec, ... and Trin.  They were gone.  He had grown so fond of the boy, but he was now nothing more than a memory.  And now he was stuck, forsaken on some unknown land.  The sands of the beach stretched out as far as he could see to his left and right.  He had lived to see another day, and that was enough.  Freedom had come, freedom from the constraints of Faerun and the Underdark.  He praised Njord for the blessing of his protection and Poseidon for his mercy.3

The skies were gray with a haze of clouds and fog.  It could have been day, night, he didn't know; it was all a blend of dull incomprehendable colors.  His eyes trailed the skyline from the sea, back to the beach, and finally what towered before him.  A great stone wall loomed overhead, ancient by the marks withering from water and age.  The feeling it gave was eerie and forbidding.  It must have been there for eons.  Whatever lay behind it was something long forgotten.  Though there was no entrance that could be seen.4

Andellin saw no point in remaining on the beach, there had to be some form of civilization behind the wall.  He followed it for some time seeing a garrison station every so often.  The ballistas placed at the top of each tower had been reduce to something just short of dust.  The wood rotted and deteriorated just as much as there iron tips and mechanical parts rusted away.  The taste of must in the air was rank.  He thought to himself, what kind of people would choose live in some place like this?5

This had to be an island for sure, the beach to keep going round.  But still he never passed the same place twice, so it had to be one very large island. After about two hours of walking, he grew weary.  And despite the absence of life he could feel something watching his every move.  However it was more, shadows moved across the top of the wall; faint and hidden, never fully seen.  At one point he questioned his sanity.  Just how hard had he hit his head against the stone monolith?  He drifted away into his thoughts as he walked blindly forward, trying to recall all that had happened since his flight from Faerun and the Underdark.6

Thud!7

He smacked right into a stone pillar of some sort.  It stunned him for a moment, but he was brought awake almost immediately.  He peered around to the other side.  A pair of colossal wooden doors climbed nearly the highest point on the wall.  Rusted iron clasps and bracings held the rotted splinters and loose planks in place.  He had come this far on the beach, he wouldn't stop now.  And then he noticed it; engraved upon the center of the two doors was the symbol of an encircled red claw cupping a flame.  Perhaps the symbol belonged to the civilization who built this wall.8

Andellin drew his longsword and severed the rusted clasps.  With a light push it creaked open and toppled to the ground.  The doors had not been disturbed in ages.  What lay beyond those fallen doors was something only talked about in legends.  9

A massive jungle stood before him; thick vines, gigantic trees, vegetation larger than he had ever seen.  It was unbelievable.  He walked forward scanning all that surrounded him.  Colorful birds sang and cawed all about as they fluttered from tree to tree.  Bright colored flowery vegetation covered the floor all the way to the top of the canopy; some beautiful and delicate, others spiked and deadly.  Exotic animals appeared in and out of his range of vision.  The most awe-inspiring of these jungle creatures had to be the wild cats; lions, tigers, panthers, jaguars.  Such creatures were only seen on animal trade ships and circuses throughout Faerun.  Even other simian creatures and monkeys appeared, more so in the canopy than on the ground floor.  And despite all the exotic wild and plant life that appeared before his eyes, it was the feeling of something very old that fascinated him; this jungle was ancient.  No one had set foot on this ground in ages.  There was no clear path whatsoever.  He hiked his own path for hours until the jungle began to grow thinner and thinner.  The ground beneath his feet grew soft and mushy, the air grew thick and rank, and a dense greenish-grey mist began to set in, it was a swamp.10

Darkness began to set in as the gray day dissipated into a dark shroud overhead, or from what he could tell.  The thick mist was extremely hard to see through.  It was thick and pervasive, so unyielding.  Given the conditions, Andellin decided to rest for the night.  He took what dry wood he could find tried to start a small fire.  Again he sat alone, contemplating his memories of all that had passed in the two years.  He pulled the twisted dagger out and moved it from hand to hand.11

The blade gleamed dimmly as it refleted the light of the small fire.  It was amazing how much the blade had become a part of him, he could hardly think of what it would be like without it.  Hours passed as the night grew late.  Mosquitos had flocked to light; small, big, and gigantic.  As irritating as they were it was the hunger that ate away at him the most.  He pulled his bow and shot down one of the giant mosquitos.  Even cooked, the bug was a rank meal.  Afterwards he settled in and tried to sleep on the soft mud of the damp swamp.  Sleep did not come easy, for hours he laid there until everything seemed to disappear in the mist.12

His sleep was restless.  Andellin dreamed heavily of a world consumed complely in a silver cloud.  No ground, no sky.  He stood in a silver void.  And great voice came to him from somwhere in the distant void, surounded in other smaller voices speaking languages he had never heard.13

-Orron ... Great Hall ... Crimson Claw-14

And repeated slowly, neverending.15

-Orron ... Great Hall ... Crimson Claw-16

Gradually the silver mist before him began to take shape.  First a tale, then wings, ... and then the head.  A pair of deep blue eyes gazed past his skin and deep into his soul, leaving him naked stripped of his protective barrier.  The mouth opened, and the voice came forth once more.17

-Orron ... Great Hall ... Crimson Claw-18

Andellin stared in awe as the dragon that appeared before him loomed over repeating the words.  It then began to dematerialize as it disappeared in the mist by the power of a strong wind.  A bright light flared before him, and he was awake once more.19

It was a strange dream for sure.  Why would a dragon come to him in his sleep, especially after he had suffered so many nightmares of the times he had spent in the Underdark.  Questions rushed through his mind as he began gathering his equipment.  Then he realized, everything went still.  The sounds of the swamp were gone.  No crickets, no mosquitos, no dragonflies, no gators ... nothing.  There was no movement.20

The greenish-gray mist began changing.  The green cast steadily changed to the color of red.  Worst of all, Andellin could smell blood.  Something was wrong, terribly wrong.  Then ... off in the distance ... they came into sight.  Red silouettes lumbered towards him, visible but never clear.  Blazing red eyes glared at him.21

They drifted forward as though they were floating on the mud and slime.  These things ... they weren't real, or at least had no physical form.  They were a part of the mist!  What were these things, were they hostile, were they even real?  These were questions that Andellin didn't stick around to find out the truth about.  He dashed off, not knowing really where he was going.  The mud sucked at his legs, fighting to claim the drow.  A gnarled root of a rotted willow stood just a few inches from the ground and glanced Andellin at the ankle, sending the him sprawling across the swamp muck.  For a moment he laid there seeping in the slime about him, hoping that by remaining where he was the mist wraiths would disappear.22

For a moment he stole a glance behind himself, and by some great fortune found none of the apparitions following him.  The mist remained ever red, composed of the blood of poor souls unlucky enough to be ensnared in this quagmire.  He began to stand up and instantly felt the air around him go frigid.  He turned about and found one of the red mist wraiths standing before him.  Andellin was frozen in fear, he didn't know what to do.  His body struggled to run, but something held him firm, something more than sheer fear.  Soft lulling whisper penetrated his mind, the creature was trying to break his mental barrier.  Andellin fought to hold on relentlessly, then as he opened his eyes he saw more of the creatures appear.  The wraiths began to circle about him.  He could feel himself slipping, drifting, slowing, becoming hollow.  These things were eating away at his soul.23

The whispers grew into stronger voices, drowning out everything.  The world about began to spin.  He couldn't even hear his own screams.  He couldn't hold any longer.  Andellin was slipping ... slipping ... out of existence.24

Crash!-Crash!-Crash!25

Bright flashes of light exploded around him.  A swirl of red and white danced in fron of Andellin's eyes.  The whispers and voices turned to shattering screams.  For a moment the drow thought that his mind would be torn to shreds.  But he held on.  Everything then went silent again ... the creatures were gone.  Footsteps, he could here footsteps in the thick muck approaching.  A frail frame appeared before him; it human in shape, but it was hard to tell.26

Who or whatever it was opened Andellin's mouth and forced and a liquid of some sort down his throat.  Instantly he felt his strength return and his vision clear, but on the lesser hand tasted utterly putrid.  Andellin coughed heavily, trying to rid his mouth of the rank taste.  He turned about, and then finally saw what it was that saved him.  It was a man, old and weathered by age but hardened by time.  Standing as high as he, garbed in deep blue cloak and simple brown woodsmen clothing.  Without thanks or formality Andellin asked for a name.27

"Who are you, how did you find me?" Andellin struggled between the coughs. "And what was that rancid liquid?"28

"No time for questions! This way quickly, before they return!" He waved him forward as he dashed off.  Andellin ran after, not knowing whether if he was friend or foe, only knowing that he had rescued him from those swamp wraiths.  Running in toe, he followed the blue-clad man only wishing to be free of the wretched quagmire.  Together they disappeared, swallowed up in the gathering shroud of red mist.29