Day 5 - Solomon

(Day 1 - http://pathofexile.com/forum/view-thread/6071)

(Day 2 - http://pathofexile.com/forum/view-thread/6116)

(Day 3 - http://pathofexile.com/forum/view-thread/6205)

(Day 4 - http://pathofexile.com/forum/view-thread/6235)

Somewhere, I had lost my bag, and with it my water, my scrolls, everything but the blade I carried with me. I relinquished myself to the suffrage of traveling unsafely and blindly through the tidal caverns and icy, forgotten waters here. Now reclined against the craggy walls, I was tired and beyond hope.

My thoughts turned back to the ocean caves that I had known in younger years. Distinctly, I could recall the sound of crashing waves and subtle, silken, sad cries of haunted spirits laid to rest upon the craggy rocks below me. This phantom, flirting memory and I, we danced in the darkness of the tidal passages here in Wraeclast, and for just a fleeting moment, my muscles relaxed, and the uncertain, ghoulish fate that had befallen me seemed distant and forgotten.

I enjoyed a few seconds in a homesick daze, the darkness behind my closed eyes stretching out forever until it found the sunlit fields that rolled and crested, rose and broke without sound back on the Isle of Records. Green and filled with marigolds, these waves that I remembered grassy and warm.

It was the scampering of claws that startled me from a happier time, back to the dim, cold, cavernous labyrinth that I sat in. The walls no longer open space but a distasteful mix of brown and sea green from where the tides had washed in and out over many years. The shadows near the corner of my vision, poor as it was in the low light, seemed to constantly writhe and twist as though each corridor of these endlessly repeating walls were haunted by fools who had traveled this way before me. When I heard the claws again, my blade was already halfway drawn, and a scampering of startled feet was punctuated by the thudding of a hard carapace against slick and stony walls.

An alarmed squeak took me completely off guard, and echoed loudly in the dripping caves. Cold and nearly frozen leather still wrapped around my feet groaned silently in protest as I moved. I had to dig out energy from a warmer place in my chest and put my legs to work again, quickly crossing the small antechamber I had resigned myself to.

By the time I had found the small, alarmed creature that produced the noise, I was accosted by the betentacled ones.

What they are I am still uncertain, neither Nessa nor Tarkleigh seem to know. They slither along on two or three of their long, slender appendages bringing the other three to bear against anything they encounter, striking and strangling, gripping, grabbing and entangling with gargantuan strength.

They attack in packs, and this encounter was no exception. Previous exposure had shown me how to fight them, and I was getting very good at it. Six or seven at once came hissing and writhing out of the darkness, sending their slimy limbs out to grab and entwine. Speed was paramount, and though exhausted, cold and shivering, my first strike was ruthless and efficient. I charged into the pack as it came, and thoughts turned to the anger of the gem in the hilt of my trustworthy ally in combat. Its steel lit up the darkness for just a moment in an eerie glow and carved a blazing arc through three of the hideous beasts.

On the far wall, a matching line of their ochre blood splashed as though the stroke of an artist's brush on the fine canvas of battle, and their bodies fell silently at my feet in death as a sacrifice to the masterpiece that it should have been. There was an uncertain rustling behind me, I was distracted by it long enough to not notice the ropey tentacle slice through my blind spot and wrap around my neck.

For a moment I was in a panic, and two more creatures attacked quickly, lashing their tendrils about my arms and legs. I struggled against them, but so drained already was my body of energy and the will to fight, that their grip was far greater than my opposition.

Because of this, I could not quite comprehend why it was that they suddenly turned their attention from me, spitting out like hot lead their hisses both grotesque and foul. The moment I felt weakness, I twisted my body suddenly and again invoked the power of the gem, feeling it pull from my reserves of stamina that already waned near empty, dicing through their oblong, eggish bodies and the binding ropes they called their weapons alike. There was another frightened, alarming squeak from near the wall I had tried to put my back against before charging into the foes, but I did not look back to it until after I had chopped my way through two more of the cephalopods, leaving seven dead in my wake. Huddled against the edge of my vision, low to the ground, something was snipping its claws in an audible manner at one of the dead creatures.

The dread of being trapped in these caverns and slain by the horrors that haunted them caught up to me all in a rush, and fell to my hands and knees. With white knuckles wrapped around my weapon, I struggled not to turn up what little nourishment I had taken in. It was with awe that I stared upwards at a small, shelled creature, standing before me with an offering of peace. It chittered a small noise at me, and flabbergasted I pulled myself up to be sitting and not hunched over and exposed.

The creature must have been one of the sand crabs. Those spitting things from the beaches outside that would pelt me with their stony projectiles. I imagine it had attacked those beasts while they bound me, distracting them for just a moment to allow my escape. Upon its back it wore a shell like a hermit crab might have, tucked up inside to offer superior protection from the elements and from larger things that might seek to prey on them.

In its large pincers, it held a strap of dirty leather. My eyes followed the length of treated hide along its length and my heart jumped; so startled that I felt it must have pushed the tears from their hiding place behind my eyes out until they tumbled down my cheeks in disbelief. The scraping, crawling sounds that had driven me almost to madness in this godforsaken place had belonged to this stone crab; it had been searching me out to deliver what I had lost.

It was an impulsive decision, made without thought and without consideration. I squealed with delight, and reached down to grab the heavy, crabbish beast, and pulled it tightly against my chest in an excited embrace.

It did not struggle.

I heard an intelligent sound come from behind the shielded body that smelled of limestone and age, something approving, and its large claws clicked excitedly. When the absurdity of the moment dawned finally, I gasped and set it back down on the slightly damp floor in front of me, where it clicked its claws once more and shuffled side-to-side.

I smiled.

"Thank you." I said to it, brushing away the redness from my eyes, and once my pack had been squarely tied against my waist again, I fetched the water skin and drank until not a drop had survived my thirst. The crab-like creature was rewarded with a small, choice cut of my finest dried meat, which it devoured with purpose and gusto.

After a well-deserved break for the reunion of my pack and I, morale for the troupe was stellar. The pack of course, thrilled to be returned to me. The departure from my company had been harrowing and difficult for the collection of leather and stitches. Myself, I had fared rather well considering.

Solomon the Crab has decided to join me as I look for an exit to this wretched place, and every so often offers sage advice in the form of silence now only broken here in the deepest parts of the caverns by the haunting melody being sung by what I imagine is my own mind playing tricks on me in hopes to ease my nerves.

--Senophostria

I'm liking the character that is starting to take shape here, keep it up :)

Thank you!

I'm inspired to try something like this, Be on the look out in a few days. ;)

good job !

This is a really good read :) done well there !

Really interesting :)