Bad News for Silk

“OK folks let’s be real careful”, the Bishop Lazlo Bennington warned as the group of adventurers peared into the large hall. Many stone pillars, in rows, reached to the ceiling twenty five feet above. The air was cold on musty, for they were far underground. The pillars were decorated with symbols, which were not discernable from a distance. There was no sign nor sound of movement, except for the grunting breaths of the two gargantuan figures that stood to the left and right of the party.

“Silence ogres”, Shlade whispered, thumbing the hilt of his axe.

“Gwackmung, not Ogre. Smash your head, call us Ogres”, spat Remonoga Gwackmung.

“Mrmhpag. And eat ENTRAILS.”, Maul concured.

The Bishop interrupted,”that’s enough Boys.”, and the group fell silent.

Still there was no sound what so ever coming from the room.

“It’s quiet…TOO quiet”, Silk observed grining from ear to ear. Janos peered at the Dralsnian prince. “What?”, Silk pleeded,”Someone had to say it…”

And with those words he strode quietly farther into the room. As Silk reached the first set of pillars, an uncontrollable urge overcame him to observe more closely the symbols debossed into the stone columns. He walked over to one of them, his sword tip dipping to the floor as his body grew oddly lax.

“Silk, those runes might….”, Janos began to call out too late. The elf in the silver and black cloak was already gazing at one rather large rune. Silk experienced a bright flash of blue light, followed by an odd feeling that he were floating in a cold, gelatinous substance. All went dark for what might have been a few seconds, or a few months, but in the altered state of mind and place that he was experiencing, temporal distinctions meant nothing. Silk the businessman, thief, and sometimes heir to the throne of Dralsnia had been sucked into the void of Demons.