!BF9WDhCQ8M 10/10/09(Sat)17:01 No.6216909|
"So foolish, letting them see you." Dirsryna crouched, wiping her blade on the sentry's clothes. She lifted his hand, glancing at a ring on one of his fingers, then let the hand flop down with a curled lip of disdain. Inside, the church was empty, dusty, old pews heaped in a corner. But along one wall, a large floorstone had been pried up and shoved aside, a ladder going down the gaping hole beneath, faint light flickering from somewhere below.
They slipped down into dark catacombs, unlit. Alaric muttered a brief prayer, clasping his symbol of Torm, and it began to glow with a pale light, and earning him another roll of the eyes from his companion. They were in burial catacombs, horizontal niches carved into the walls on each side. Most were empty, only a few occupied by ancient bones, heaped with mounds of dust and nearly-decomposed rags.
The tunnel twisted, occasionally branching off into a short dead-end. Then, turning a corner, they saw flickering light from the room ahead. A man was seated with his back to them, grinding something with a pestle, muttering to himself. Two raggedly-dressed figures stood near the doorway, their backs turned, sihouetted by the candle light. Drisryna moved forward with those silent, graceful steps, dagger in hand as she approached one of the sentries, and without a noise she drove the knife into the back of its neck. With a gasping groan, it turned, face a half-rotten mass, and reached for her.
She yelped, leaping back, stumbling against the wall of the narrow tunnel. Alaric yelled her name, then growled out another blessing, the blade of his sword coming alight with flickering blue flames. His first blow seemed to make the nearest zombie explode, crumbling away in burning, curling shreds. The second hurled itself against his shield, reeling him onto his back leg. He thrust into its belly, causing a foul stench of burning, rotten flesh, but not quite staggering it.