Is there ever a time when discovering more of what you are, or what you could become, be a waste? Would it ever become as such for myself? I doubted that. Living alone and on the road, meant I had to deal with many people who I did not like, or ever want to be near. More over, I had to do everything possible within my skills, to survive. Scavenge, forage, even kill. So when there was tales of old ruins where people had gone missing, I wanted to investigate.
At best, it would be a place that the locals hated, and that I could find and learn something from. Worst? Might have to get into a scuffle with undead minions long lost of their master, or some kind of entity that I had to sneak around. Often times, it was just a story made by bandits or thieves to keep people away from their hide out. One too many times I have encountered such people. Hating it with all of my fibers.
That is why I hesitated entering this little mineshaft that the locals have been warding me from. Apparently this lead to some Necromancers tomb, and those who entered, never found their way out. Lost to the mines, or taken over by the ghost of this fabled being. Surely the Templars would have gone after this should it have been a credible source. No sign of disturbances for quite a while from what I could tell.
I stood up from the kneeling position that I had been in. Looking at the floor to find barely any kind of sign that someone had entered. Looking around, I didn't find anyone near me for the moment. Reflexive of any kind of danger, my hand pulled on the stud that held my long-knives in place at the small of my back, and the strap that held the short sword I carried in its sheath upon my hip.
Silently, I stepped into the darkness of the Mine.
Esmeralda
At best, it would be a place that the locals hated, and that I could find and learn something from. Worst? Might have to get into a scuffle with undead minions long lost of their master, or some kind of entity that I had to sneak around. Often times, it was just a story made by bandits or thieves to keep people away from their hide out. One too many times I have encountered such people. Hating it with all of my fibers.
That is why I hesitated entering this little mineshaft that the locals have been warding me from. Apparently this lead to some Necromancers tomb, and those who entered, never found their way out. Lost to the mines, or taken over by the ghost of this fabled being. Surely the Templars would have gone after this should it have been a credible source. No sign of disturbances for quite a while from what I could tell.
I stood up from the kneeling position that I had been in. Looking at the floor to find barely any kind of sign that someone had entered. Looking around, I didn't find anyone near me for the moment. Reflexive of any kind of danger, my hand pulled on the stud that held my long-knives in place at the small of my back, and the strap that held the short sword I carried in its sheath upon my hip.
Silently, I stepped into the darkness of the Mine.
Esmeralda