Black Dreamers- GM Story Lead In #4

The shadows of the tiny cave fought the loosing battle against the mid day sun of the Alk'Haran desert. Inch by inch the fat black scorpion scuttled his way out of his den, making sure it was safe to go search for food. Unfortunately for the scorpion, Rhotiel had hidden himself well, as he always did. With a quick flick of his practiced wrist Rhotiel snatched the large vermin from the sand and dropped him into the leather lined basket on his side, so fast the scorpion had no chance to sting or pinch in defense.

Rhotiel held the lid open and counted, "seven...eight....nine." He had only three more to catch and bring back to Den'Mezzier to finish his quota for the day. The Alchemists gave him a good price for a dozen of the living Black Dreamers (one of the rarest of scorpions), as they used them for various components in their mixtures. He was anxious to be done for the day, for the mid season sun was burning down with all the fury of the fire lord, and his young wife had gone to market today to buy them fresh meat and dry goods. Tonight's meal would be grand indeed. The thought of his young brides face gave more spring to his step, as he continued on his path.

His keen hunters eyes spotted a black glimmer a few yards ahead, and he was sure it was another of the Black Dreamers searching for food after yesterdays relentless sand storm. The day after a storm was the best hunting, for the creatures moved slow and without caution, after digging their way out from their buried dens. Rhotiel had already placed his tally at ten when he came upon what turned out to be a small black object sticking out of the sand. It glistened like the shell of the Black Dreamers. Some kind of strange metal...or glass.

Knowing better than picking up strange objects in the desert, Rhotiel knelt down to inspect it. It looked as though the recent sand storm had unearthed the odd looking object over night. It was small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, and it was carved to show an image of four circles, each decreasing in size, stacked on top of each other. It reminded him of the ripples surrounding a water bug on the fountains in Den'Mezzier. The light seemed to pass through it, making it appear to have a reflective glow. The hand that carved it must have indeed been a master, for even after sitting out in the sand for Brenn knows how long, it hadn't a flaw on it.

Rhotiel looked from the object, to the basket of Scorpions on his belt, and back again. After a short internal conflict he decided which of the two would be the most profitable prize he could collect today. Taking the sash off his brow and wrapping it around his hand, he scooped up the object. It seemed strangely heavy. He set off back towards his home, anxious to sell his find, and be rid of it. It gave off a strange energy he could feel even through the wrapping. As his anxiousness grew, his pace increased into a run.

Forgetting he had removed his sash, the head wrappings he used to protect him from the sunlight flew off his bare head. He hastily turned and scooped the item up from the sand. He was in such a hurry that his actions were too hasty, and as he bent over, the lid of the basket on his hip slipped off and a handful of angry scorpions spilled out onto Rhotiel's feet. He gave out a scream as three of the beasts landed and immediately began stinging the unprotected flesh of his ankles. Blood was now pouring out of his wounds from the pinching and stinging of the huge vermin. In panic he began beating at his aggressors with the heavy stone medallion wrapped in his head sash. They scurried away, having gotten their revenge, and left him in his agony.

He fell to his knees and looked down at the swollen bleeding wounds on his calves and feet. Dumping out the black object into the sand, he began wrapping his more damaged leg in the fabric of the sash. The blood and seeping venom poured out onto his hands, burning and making his fingers numb. His vision began to blur and his limbs seemed to give up. The sun beating down on his bare head now seemed to be seeping into his skull, pushing him down into the sand. He felt like he was sinking. His body feel with a great thud and he lashed out with his hands, flailing and screaming for someone or something to help him. He found his grip when his hand came in contact with a hard surface and grabbed down as hard as he could. He looked up from his prone position to see he now held the strange medallion in his blood soaked had. His eyes went wide.

The blood on his hand seemed to be soaking into the medallion, as the internal glow went from a soft white to the burning red of a coal. Black smoke poured into the air from between his fingers. The venom had killed his sense of pain, but he was sure his palm was burning and being cooked away. Now he really was sinking, as the sand opened up and swallowed him into its depths. He fell into emptiness, as caverns dug into existence under his falling body. As he tumbled deeper and deeper the flesh seemed to fall away from his bones as his body and soul was consumed by the stone fortress hidden under the sand.

Far from the city, the opening to the cavern stood unnoticed. As the sun beat down from the afternoon sky, the light and warmth seemed to be swallowed up by the mouth of the cave, as a cold and empty breath seemed to seep out from a world not visited in ages. The scales to the battle between light and shadow and just been tipped.