Adventurers

Azad arrived at the end of the trail and allowed himself to rest for a moment. The fetid air at the mouth of the cave carried a heavy scent of orcish sweat, rotten wood and tar fire. The adventurer checked his map once more and was satisfied that he was at the right place: a side entrance to the erstwhile lair of the archmage Swaran Lordeye. He looked around the opening of the cavern, recognising the stones that used to be statues and ornaments and were now crumbling piles of rubble. Ever since the archmage's disappearance decades prior, the place had been occupied by a series of barbarous squatters, either too stupid to find the artefacts of great power that were still within or too scared of them to bring them out. Whatever the reason, the lair still held a great number of enchanted wands, precious scrolls, runed swords and many other such objects that were just waiting for an adventurer like Azad to retrieve them.
He pulled out his scrying crystal, humming with mystical energy, and tapped it lightly. Somewhere to the right and down of Azad there was something of great value, though the vibrations of the crystal indicated that perhaps there was another one nearby that interfered with the scrying. Far from it being a bad thing, Azad smiled in anticipation of the loot he'd be able to recover, and stepped into the cavern.
As soon as he set foot inside, however, his crystal stopped shining and fell down, inert. Confused, the adventurer looked around, and saw two stone cylinders at the edge of the opening. He inspected them closely and saw inscriptions, as well as a light buzz he could feel in a slight trembling of his back teeth. Though he could not recognise the exact runes inscribed on them, he knew they were projecting an anti-magic field throughout the lair. He frowned, holding in his hand the now useless crystal, and for a moment pondered on how this endeavour no longer seemed like the easy job that he'd thought it was as he put the crystal away in his satchel. He chased that thought away and pressed on.

Malsey slid through the two boulders, entering a gap unseeable by anyone not specifically looking for it. It was narrow enough for a man to crawl by, and, with some difficulty, he finally reached a small opening between the rocks, where moss and lichens covered every surface. He flicked his fingers, summoning a small flame that rapidly burnt the vegetation to reveal the stone beneath, and then carefully pressed a square slab. A certain looseness at the touch confirmed what the diary had told him: he pulled up the trapdoor and stared into the dark passage underneath, a secret entrance to the lair of Swaran the archmage.
Malsey smiled, and then conjured a small orb of light. He put away his map and his staff and lowered himself on the rickety ladder that descended into the cavern. As he went down, the orb was suddenly snuffed out, dispersing in shining shards that dissipated immediately, leaving Malsey in the darkness. He tried conjuring another one, but at every attempt his sorcery died as soon as he'd snapped his fingers. He gritted his teeth, frowning. He figured that there would still be arcane protections in the lair, but anti-magic fields were notoriously hard to maintain; there must've been pretty powerful sorcery in action there. He got out, lit a torch, and then resumed his descent.

Azad reached what appeared to be a large hall, though his lantern could only light a small part of it. From the overturned tables and rubble, he guessed that this had been a squatters’ camp: there was the remnant of a spit, and an undefinable carcass rotted in the corner. Azad judged it unlikely to be able to find here anything of value and went forward, reaching the end of the hall, where three hallways departed in as many different directions. He sniffed the air, as it was too dark to see beyond a few paces and he lacked any magical mean to direct himself. Azad chose one of them, hoping that it was by good adventurer’s instinct but fearing it was totally randomly. He adjusted his headgear, a white headdress with some minor protective incantations on it; he crossed his fingers that the suppressive field didn't annul its effect.
As he went, he began scratching the stone with his dagger to mark his path and avoid getting lost. He was almost too unnerved to do it, because in the great stillness of the corridor, the scraping sound of the blade seemed to reverberate all around and give away his position to potential ambushers. And yet, it was he who first heard a noise, a series of rapid footsteps coming from a hallway that opened to his right. By the look of it, it seemed to lead to a sort of servants' quarter. Maybe a few still lived there, magically bound to protect their master's treasure; maybe there was guardians or sentinels around, or it could be the orcish squatters. It could've even been another adventurer: while the entrance Azad had come through was the main one, it was probably not the only one, and even though there had been no sign of other intruders, someone very cunning could be there for his same purpose. Starting to have doubts, he went forward nevertheless.

Malsey examined his surroundings. It was a pantry, with the ladder well camouflaged between old crates and barrels, no doubt an emergency escape for the staff in case of peril. The door, despite being closed, was easily broken through, leading to the kitchen. All closets and cupboards were devastated and broken, hinting that raiders had already scoured this place. Perhaps he was too late to find any artifact of value, he thought, but immediately dismissed the notion: his scrying crystal didn't lie. He tried activating it again, but the anti-magic field was still suppressing its power.
Frustrated, he made it out of the kitchen and into a corridor. There were several doors that opened to dorm halls, probably where the servants slept and lived. They appeared to be deserted, and Malsey decided that he shouldn't waste time searching them for loot. As he begun to walk, he heard a scraping noise. He froze, hiding his torch to crouch in the darkness and listen carefully. In the sudden obscurity, his eyes took a while to adapt; he thought he saw a light flicker in the distance, but he couldn't be sure. He was then certain he saw a figure rapidly passing along the end of the corridor, shrouded in darkness as he was. Carefully, Malsey pulled out his sword and inched forward. The figure had disappeared, and, after a minute of wait, he lit the torch again. There was no sign of the passage of whatever that had been: the dust and cobwebs seemed untouched, and the scene was perfectly still. Wary, Malsey walked deeper into the lair.

Azad arrived in what he thought had been a library, and now was enormous mounds of broken wood, torn books and cracked stone. He examined the piles with the light of his lantern, pulling out a couple of ripped pages: these had probably been invaluable tomes, but the mold had eaten much of the paper and nothing could be read anymore. There might've been some that still retained their mystical power, but without a scrying crystal, Azad was out of ways to determine that. If he had had more time, he could have tried to sift through the wreckage, but the eerie air around him made him long for the safety of outside. He would have to be lucky and find something of clear value.
Shaking his head, he turned, and immediately froze. A bizarre, ghastly figure was standing at the edge of the light. It was humanoid in shape, covered in bandages that appeared to float and move despite there being no breeze. The figure was almost wholly black, save for two shining eyes, the only discernible facial feature.
Azad blinked, and the figure disappeared. He hesitated to move for a few instants, but when he finally did he saw there was no trace of the bandaged spirit. It had left no print or sign, and all was untouched as he'd first entered the room. Perhaps it was a glamer, Azad reasoned; Swaran was famed for his illusions. He tried to convince himself it was only a spectral sentinel, a fading enchantment to keep out intruders. Maybe it had been stronger when the magic was still strong, but now it was just a shadow.
Or so he told himself; a voice inside told him to leave while he still could, but another appealed to his pride and greed, and he resolved to only get out when he had something of value to show for it. Despite the mounting fear, he entered the next corridor.

Malsey reached a sort of destroyed library. There were torn books everywhere, and a few ripped pages lay at the feet of one of the biggest piles. He tried examining them, but they were too far gone to be read. More interesting, however, were the faint traces in the room. Someone had been there, though it was hard to properly assess from the all the dust. Whoever it had been, it must've been very nimble in its movements, or they had covered after themselves. Perhaps an adventurer, or the figure he'd seen before? Malsey couldn't tell. He pressed on, entering another corridor and holding his torch high.
As he went, he started hearing curious sounds, as of something softly moving. When he stood still, the noises ceased, but when he walked it appeared to follow him. Wary, he remained immobile and narrowed his eyes to glimpse into the darkness. Just as he was about to move again, something passed quickly before his eyes at the end of the corridor, just as it had done a short while back. Malsey froze, only moving to pull out his sword. Nothing seemed to happen, but then the figure passed again, this time closer. It appeared twice more, each time seemingly emerging from the walls themselves, and each time approaching Malsey. The adventurer prepared a defensive spell before recalling that the field would suppress it, and almost elected to flee, but with no warning the figure passed him again, a scant few yards before him, lingering slowly, as if examining him. Malsey had a good look at it: it was a bizarrely robed spirit, as if clad with ribbons, strands of cloth and bandages, and almost fully black in appearance. The eyes, glinting with curiosity, were the only thing that shone through.
The figure passed quickly and then vanished away, leaving Malsey alone. He waited a little while, but he did seem to be on his own again. For some reason, he did not believe the spirit to be malicious: it could've probably attacked him if it'd been hostile, so he interpreted the quick appearance with cautious optimism. He was still on guard, however, when he begun walking along the corridor again.

Azad checked the small rooms in the hallway, but only found rubble and smashed furniture. At every pile, he wondered if a valuable object lay underneath, but every second he hesitated he could feel being watched, and pressed on. He tried to tell himself that it was just his imagination, but that did little to allay his fears.
He arrived in a large columned hall, several stories high and very silent, but he struggled to understand its true dimensions as his lantern was too small to illuminate it all. He stepped forward a few paces, and saw many corridors depart in different directions. In each of them, he imagined a pair of shining eyes looking at him that went dark as soon as he focused on the blackness. Everywhere he looked, the lair was shrouded in shadows that his light couldn't pierce, and Azad decided he'd had enough.
He turned, and the spectre was in front of him, so close he could touch it.

Malsey took a turn whenever he thought he saw the figure moving at the end of the corridor, but more often than not it was just his mind seeing flickers and breezes. By the time he gave up trying to follow the figure, he realised he didn't know where he was, nor did he have any idea how he'd got there. Chastising himself for his own carelessness, he elected to press on rather than trying to find his way back, and encountered a sequence of devastated rooms and destroyed junk. He had half an idea to try to look through the rubble for loot, but for some reason he chose to just go on, eventually reaching a large hall. He was on its second floor, though he didn't recall climbing stairs, and he could see columns jut across the room.
He pondered for an instant; as he did, he thought he saw a light glimmer in the distance, beneath him, but it disappeared quickly. As he tried to locate it, it appeared again at the corner of his eye, and when he turned to see, it had gone away. He heard footsteps to the side of him, but when he looked there was nothing. Repeatedly, he could see flashes and hear someone move around him, but never quite catch it. Whatever it was, it appeared to be circling him. Was it the robed figure again? Malsey readied his sword.

Azad froze, hand on the dagger. He silently prepared an incantation as he looked at the bandaged spirit before him. The figure was still, unmoving, and seemed to examine him; he could swear he'd seen it tilt its head in contemplation. He wanted to do something, but he was afraid of breaking the silence of the scene with haphazard moves, and waited for the spirit to act first.
He didn't have to wait long: after some instants of meditation, the spectre raised its robed hand, moving it towards Azad's head. In response, the adventurer pulled out the dagger and cast his spell, which died as soon as it was pronounced. He cursed himself for not remembering the magic field, and swiped with the weapon. The blade went clean through the spirit’s incorporeal form, and the hand continued undisturbed to go for his head. Azad tried to move backwards, but, before he could act, his headdress flashed, and the spectre's hand was repelled by he magical forcefield. The hand went forward again, more forceful this time, but it was pushed back in a shower of sparks.
The figure gave a syncopated wail, and disappeared. Azad thanked his lucky stars that the protective enchantment still worked and run out of the room. He knew he was being followed.

Malsey felt something brush against him and turned, pointing his sword. There was no one there, but he could see another flash on the other side, and turned again. Once more, there was nothing. Gritting his teeth, he retreated to the corridor, intending to get out of there. He waved the torch in the darkness, hoping to catch someone or something, but it only cast away the shadows. He picked up the pace, almost sprinting, and yet he could still feel something at his heels. When something definitely touched him on the foot, he turned to look, didn't notice an unevenness in the floor, and tumbled down.
The sword and the torch both slipped away from his hands, and Malsey found himself enveloped by the obscurity. As he scrambled to get up and retrieve his weapon, something pressed down on him: the figure was above him, regarding him cautiously. Malsey waited, unsure of what he could do, and prepared to at the very least run away or strike at the spectre. The spirit, very cautiously, neared its hand to his neck instead. The adventurer knew he had to stop him, but he found himself unable to, and he could only look in fear as the figure's skeletal fingers touched his throat and dug through the clothes. In one rapid motion, they pulled out a tiny silver necklace, and playfully pulled on it. Malsey was perplexed: was the figure trying to see whether he had enchanted gear? He cursed, as he hadn't thought of getting that sort of protection.
The spectre, instead, abandoned the necklace and pulled the hand back. Malsey could swear that the ribbons and rags on the thing's face had contorted in a smile. Without warning, the spirit lunged at him.

Azad quickly put the dagger away, electing to hold his headgear on his head instead: as long as he was protected by it, he would be safe from the spirit. He ran through the corridors, hoping he was making the right turns, but eventually realised he was lost. He couldn't recognise the corridors, and all rooms were full of equally unidentifiable piles of debris. He swore, loudly, and stopped. He frantically scanned his surroundings to figure the way out.
Mid-thought, he felt something smash into him. The adventurer was knocked onto the wall and dropped the lantern, though he managed to keep his hand on his head. He turned to see what had happened, but he already knew: the figure flashed before him before disappearing in the darkness. Azad got up, tried to catch the lantern, and was promptly knocked over again. He looked around, and the spectre assailed him once more, but this time his headdress flashed, and, with a shriek, the figure was forced to retreat. Azad jumped up and took a few steps before being slammed against the wall. He managed to keep his equilibrium, but after another shove, he instinctively pulled his hands forward to brace for the fall, and his headgear tumbled off his head when he hit the ground. With horror, Azad saw the spirit approach him while the headgear was out of reach.

Malsey was struck squarely in the face, and he couldn't believe that such bony fingers could pack such a powerful punch. He struck back, but his hand just swung through the air. The figure gave what seemed to be a low chuckle and hit him again, this time sending him flying against the wall.
The impact knocked the air out of the adventurer's lungs. He knew he had to react, but he was still reeling from the hit, and he clutched his stomach. Malsey raised his head, just in time to be struck once more in the face. He banged his head on the stone, and could feel a bloody sting over his eyebrow. As he sputtered, the spirit hit him twice, thrice, and Malsey couldn't fight him. He found himself lying on the floor, hurting and defeated, incapable of moving.
The figure, satisfied with the situation, rose and looked at the adventurer. It seemed to smile once more, and then it slowly approached until it was on top of him. It put its hands on Malsey's face, its touch scalding, searing hot. Malsey tried to scream, but his voice was suffocated.

Azad rolled to the side, but the spectre jumped on him just as quickly. With a flash, it struck the adventurer, and he was knocked between the floor and the figure's powerful fist. As he reeled from the hit, the spirit began striking him repeatedly. At every punch, Azad tried to react, but the sequence was too fast, and he couldn't raise himself. His head smashed against the floor, again and again, and he could feel his jawbone dislocating and his mouth bleeding. With a groan, he tried to roll away, but the strikes didn't cease; he found himself pathetically clawing at the headgear, just a few feet away.

Malsey felt his face burning with intolerable heat: it was as if the spectre's hands were melting into his skin, fusing the ribbons into his very flesh. The figure's hands dug deeper and deeper into his cheeks, until the fingers had all but disappeared within him. A strange sensation then took him: it was painful, but something also soothed him. After the initial searing touch, something soft had begun slithering across him, curing his ailment. Malsey managed to open his eyes, and he saw that the spectre’s ribbons were falling off of it and wrapping around him instead. He felt his flesh become evanescent as the one of the spirit became rosy and human. When divested of all the bandages, an adventurer much like him stood above Malsey. He had a white headdress on his head.

Azad was incapable of moving as the spirit's rags enveloped him. A bearded man emerged from where the spectre had been, and he had a broad grin on his face.
"I thank you, brother. How generous of you to take my place here!"
The man gave a cruel, long laugh. Azad was still immobile, his eyes the only part of himself that he could still control.
"Don't worry, brother, you get used to it after a while. You'll almost miss it when you finally find someone else to give it to. Almost, heh."
Azad frantically looked around him. The headgear was still quite close by, but his arms didn't respond to him anymore. He tried grabbing it, and was utterly incapable.
The man saw his struggle and his panicked look, and followed his eyes to the white headdress.
"Oh, you miss your hat? Hah! Well, don't worry, brother."
The man picked up the headdress and put it on Azad's head. The ribbons covered it too.
"There, looking real pretty now! Well, you'll excuse me if I don't want to be here when the curse kicks in!"
The man grabbed the lantern and Azad's satchel and quickly disappeared in a corridor. Azad could feel the shadows seeping within him, chasing away his consciousness in a corner of his mind. Soon, he was a prisoner in his own body.

Malsey felt the ribbons wrapping him tightly. He could just about move his head, and he panickedly tried to figure out what was going on. The other adventurer was smiling and carefully checking himself, touching his flesh as if he wasn't quite sure it was there. He gave a happy little chuckle.
"Oh, man, never thought I'd see the day!"
He then noticed Malsey's struggle and turned to him.
"You! What's the year? Can you talk? What's the year?" he asked him.
Malsey couldn't move or respond. The adventurer approached him as if he wanted to throttle him to extract an answer, but thought better of it, and instead he checked his backpack. He pulled out a book and a few pieces of paper, quickly scanning them. He eventually found a journal, and scanned the pages until he found a date.
"It's been five years I've been trapped here?" he eventually wondered out loud, eyes glazing in the distance until the slithering sound of bandages around Malsey brought him back to reality.
"Don't fight it, man. Give in. Well, not that you have a choice, heh."
The adventurer picked up the backpack, gathered the torch and sword and motioned to leave. He turned to Malsey before going.
"Don't worry, friend. I might send a raider or two your way. Maybe they can relieve you of your duty."
With a mocking laugh, he departed and vanished down the hallway. The curse took hold within Malsey, and he became the prisoner of the spirit.

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