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   Chapter 5 No.5

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett - Assault in Stormguard By AaronDennis Characters: 5394

Updated: 2018-01-04 12:02


Yoris called the elf and the two worked to right a rack missing its candles. They picked some of the candles off the floor and stuck them into the holders before lighting them. The added glow was sufficient to reveal the temple's poor condition.

"Any clues to what happened, " Larson asked with his brow furrowed.

"None as o' yet, " Wilma said, rubbing the stubble on her chin and cheeks.

By the light of flames, they scrutinized one another. Larson noted Yoris's orcish features were very faint; he looked a curious mix of human and elf, except he was bald, brutish, and his skin had an odd coloring, a pale, greenish hue. Tannish was shorter than Larson and thin; he carried a crossbow and knives while Yoris had twin broad swords.

Abandoning their curiosity of company to search for clues, Wilma noted scraps of fabric strewn about. "Tannish, bring the light." When the elf arrived, the others walked over. She held the white cloth up. "White Wraiths?"

"Possibly, " Larson heaved. "There's some over there, too."

They approached the podium upon which the shattered dais of Akalabash stood. The marble glittered under orange incandescence. Larson kicked aside a shredded tapestry to reveal what looked like the bloodied remnant of a brown sleeve.

"Obviously there was a struggle here, but the blood looks dry, " Tannish volunteered.

"Keep looking, " Larson ordered.

Glances passed between everyone; egos flared, but they did continue their search. Apart from dust, debris, charred wood, smashed candles, and broken furniture, they found little. Yoris suggested moving through the back hall

ing cautiously, Larson thought back to his most recent encounter with cultists. Not looking forwards to getting stabbed again. Though the wound had been healed by Lyalla, he didn't think his new friends were thusly skilled, and the memory of the pain provided an unseemly anxiety, but Yoris was already out of sight when Wilma nodded for him to follow. Larson sniffed once, nodded, drew his sword, and started down. Wilma plodded down behind him, and Tannish took the rear.

The tight corridor was comprised of wooden walls and a stone floor. The stomach churning stench of death immediately assaulted their palates. The orc stopped abruptly; the light from his torch provided ample radiance, and he instantly caught sight of blood stains. He half turned to make eye contact with Larson, who then pointed ahead with his nose. Less than a hundred yards before them, they spotted the first of several corpses. Judging by the bloody mess, the gore, scattered weapons, and the robes of both white and brown, it was evident that a battle had broken out in the basement corridor.

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