Deathbot
Chicken Apocalypse Survivor
- 24
- Posts
- 11
- Years
- The Red Waste
- Seen Sep 18, 2015
Hey all. So this story currently has 3 chapters, but I am currently editing the second and third ones. I also post scene by scene, as that way it is more likely to be read. I'll upload the next scene in a day or so. Hopefully it gets good feedback. The guys over at writingforums.org seemed to like it, so hopefully you all do too.
Chapter i- Dungeon
The moment the floor gave way he jumped.
Only his quick reflexes, and his previous experience with traps, had kept him from falling into the spiked pit. It had been well hidden. He had narrowly avoided it, having noticed a tile slightly out of position as he had approached.
The rogue peered into the pit. Within he saw the decaying bodies of those who had fallen victim to the trap.
Dale smirked. 'That would have hurt.'
He continued on down the hall. There would be more traps to come, and they were not going to become any easier to avoid.
Dale Stormblade had come to the dungeon mostly out of curiosity and a desire to test his skills. Although he had heard of great treasures deep within the tomb, and could use a bit more gold, his true motivation was the chance to challenge himself.
The rumour of the ancient tomb being cursed did not bother Dale. Nor had it changed his mind about adventuring alone. Dale had never been fond of company. They got in the way, there were arguments and the treasure would have to be shared. After all, isn't that why he left his old adventuring company?
Torches were placed at regular intervals of the passage, giving off enough light that he was confident would not miss any traps.
He came upon a wooden door at the end of the hall, and having no other way to go, decided he would go through. The door creaked eerily as he opened it. Inside was only darkness.
Dale retreated back a few steps and took a torch out of its sconce. He then entered the room.
The chamber stunk of death and decay. Dale drew his rapier and proceeded with caution. He reached what he thought to be the centre of the room and stopped. The torch made it hard to see further than a few feet but it was better than nothing.
He heard a low groan and turned. As Dale's eyes locked with those of the dead creature, it pounced.
It grabbed at his left arm, attempting to knock the torch out of it. Dale jumped back, barely avoiding its attack. He jabbed at the zombie with his rapier, piercing its body to no avail. It continued its advance and Dale was forced to take a step back.
Dale had been ready to strike again when he was grabbed from behind. The second zombie pulled at his arm with its cold hands, and the torch spilled out from his grasp.
He spun around, stabbing the creature through the skull. It fell to the floor with a thump, and Dale rolled as the other zombie lunged at him. Coming up behind the creature, he put his sword through its head.
The light was fading fast.
Dale heard the scrape of a limp foot dragging across the floor behind him, and readied his rapier.
There were four of them. They had been approaching slowly, but when Dale looked at them they charged.
He avoided several blows but was not able to dodge them all. One creature hit Dale and slammed him into the ground. He rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding being grabbed.
He pushed himself up. He drew his shortsword and lunged towards his undead foes. His first swing made no contact, but he pressed the attack with his rapier. His blade pierced one of the zombies through the chest. He jumped back at it collapsed.
Once more the creatures attacked. He managed to avoid one of them, but felt the cold flesh of two pulling at his arms, as they tried to rip through his flesh.
Dale used all his strength to sidestep as one of the zombies attempted to bite, and they fell to the floor, unable to stop themselves. Immediately he was on top of the two. He drove his blades into their heads, killing them both.
The light had almost gone out.
He heard the scream of the last zombie and rolled to his side as it ran at him, leaving both swords in the bodies of the creatures he had killed. Once he was far enough past the zombie he pulled out his crossbow, dropped to one knee, levelled the weapon, and waited.
The light went out.
A moment later he heard his undead foe make a low moan as it rushed towards him. Dale fired.
He could tell from the sound of the body crashing to the floor that his bolt had struck true.
The room was silent.
Dale stood up and brushed the dust off his cloak and wiped the blood off of his black gloves onto his pants.
He reached into his pack and pulled out a lantern which he unhooded and lit. He then collected the blades he had left impaled in the undead and reloaded his crossbow. After the raid, Dale had always pre-loaded his crossbow and sworn that he would never go underarmed again.
He surveyed the carnage. Six dead bodies. Hopefully they would stay dead this time. Dale put his blades through each of their hearts and heads, just to be sure.
Dale had a quick look around for a door to go through, and found none. Not even the door he had come through.
The way back had been sealed.
Chapter i- Dungeon
The moment the floor gave way he jumped.
Only his quick reflexes, and his previous experience with traps, had kept him from falling into the spiked pit. It had been well hidden. He had narrowly avoided it, having noticed a tile slightly out of position as he had approached.
The rogue peered into the pit. Within he saw the decaying bodies of those who had fallen victim to the trap.
Dale smirked. 'That would have hurt.'
He continued on down the hall. There would be more traps to come, and they were not going to become any easier to avoid.
Dale Stormblade had come to the dungeon mostly out of curiosity and a desire to test his skills. Although he had heard of great treasures deep within the tomb, and could use a bit more gold, his true motivation was the chance to challenge himself.
The rumour of the ancient tomb being cursed did not bother Dale. Nor had it changed his mind about adventuring alone. Dale had never been fond of company. They got in the way, there were arguments and the treasure would have to be shared. After all, isn't that why he left his old adventuring company?
Torches were placed at regular intervals of the passage, giving off enough light that he was confident would not miss any traps.
He came upon a wooden door at the end of the hall, and having no other way to go, decided he would go through. The door creaked eerily as he opened it. Inside was only darkness.
Dale retreated back a few steps and took a torch out of its sconce. He then entered the room.
The chamber stunk of death and decay. Dale drew his rapier and proceeded with caution. He reached what he thought to be the centre of the room and stopped. The torch made it hard to see further than a few feet but it was better than nothing.
He heard a low groan and turned. As Dale's eyes locked with those of the dead creature, it pounced.
It grabbed at his left arm, attempting to knock the torch out of it. Dale jumped back, barely avoiding its attack. He jabbed at the zombie with his rapier, piercing its body to no avail. It continued its advance and Dale was forced to take a step back.
Dale had been ready to strike again when he was grabbed from behind. The second zombie pulled at his arm with its cold hands, and the torch spilled out from his grasp.
He spun around, stabbing the creature through the skull. It fell to the floor with a thump, and Dale rolled as the other zombie lunged at him. Coming up behind the creature, he put his sword through its head.
The light was fading fast.
Dale heard the scrape of a limp foot dragging across the floor behind him, and readied his rapier.
There were four of them. They had been approaching slowly, but when Dale looked at them they charged.
He avoided several blows but was not able to dodge them all. One creature hit Dale and slammed him into the ground. He rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding being grabbed.
He pushed himself up. He drew his shortsword and lunged towards his undead foes. His first swing made no contact, but he pressed the attack with his rapier. His blade pierced one of the zombies through the chest. He jumped back at it collapsed.
Once more the creatures attacked. He managed to avoid one of them, but felt the cold flesh of two pulling at his arms, as they tried to rip through his flesh.
Dale used all his strength to sidestep as one of the zombies attempted to bite, and they fell to the floor, unable to stop themselves. Immediately he was on top of the two. He drove his blades into their heads, killing them both.
The light had almost gone out.
He heard the scream of the last zombie and rolled to his side as it ran at him, leaving both swords in the bodies of the creatures he had killed. Once he was far enough past the zombie he pulled out his crossbow, dropped to one knee, levelled the weapon, and waited.
The light went out.
A moment later he heard his undead foe make a low moan as it rushed towards him. Dale fired.
He could tell from the sound of the body crashing to the floor that his bolt had struck true.
The room was silent.
Dale stood up and brushed the dust off his cloak and wiped the blood off of his black gloves onto his pants.
He reached into his pack and pulled out a lantern which he unhooded and lit. He then collected the blades he had left impaled in the undead and reloaded his crossbow. After the raid, Dale had always pre-loaded his crossbow and sworn that he would never go underarmed again.
He surveyed the carnage. Six dead bodies. Hopefully they would stay dead this time. Dale put his blades through each of their hearts and heads, just to be sure.
Dale had a quick look around for a door to go through, and found none. Not even the door he had come through.
The way back had been sealed.
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