The Depot
As they re-entered the depot chamber,
Nindia’s eyes scanned the area for any changes since she left it. Faramos moved purposefully toward the small leather book lying abandoned on the floor, his jaw set with grim determination.
"Wait," Brenda whispered, her hand reaching out to stop him, but
Faramos shook his head.
"I won’t read it this time," he replied, his voice low.
"But we can't leave this here. It’s too dangerous. Whatever power it holds, it must be destroyed."
Faramos pulled a torch from his pack and struck flint against steel, sparks catching on the oil-soaked rag at the torch’s head. As the flame took hold, the chamber was bathed in a flickering orange light, pushing back the encroaching darkness. He then strode towards a small cask in the corner, dusty and forgotten. Without hesitation, he hefted it up and smashed it against the ground. The wood splintered with a loud crack, and he gathered the pieces, arranging them into a crude pile. The makeshift fireplace took shape, its crude form resting on the cold, uneven stone floor.
"Stand back," Faramos instructed, his voice edged with urgency. Brenda and Nindia obeyed, their eyes locked on the druid as he prepared to do what needed to be done. He placed the book carefully atop the splintered wood, feeling the throbbing pulse of dark magic even from this distance.
With a deep breath, he brought the torch to the pile. The flames licked at the edges of the wood, crackling as they spread and grew. For a moment, it seemed the fire might not take, as if the book resisted its fate. But then, with a sudden flare, the flames consumed the wood, turning into a roaring blaze.
The book began to blacken and curl at the edges, its worn leather cover shrinking away from the heat. A magic and acrid smoke rose from it, carrying with it the scent of burning fungus and decay. Faramos watched intently as the flames danced around the tome, the druidic runes etched in its pages glowing a sickly green before disintegrating into ash.
For a brief moment, Faramos felt a pull, a dark whisper at the edge of his mind, urging him to save the book, to preserve its knowledge. But he gritted his teeth and resisted, focusing instead on the purifying power of the flames.
The book twisted and writhed within the fire, and a low, almost inaudible hiss escaped from it as if the very essence within was crying out in its final moments. Then, with a sudden burst of heat, it collapsed into a pile of blackened cinders, its dark magic finally
extinguished.
Faramos let out a slow breath, feeling the oppressive weight lift ever so slightly from the chamber.
"It's done," he muttered, his eyes fixed on the smoldering remains.
"Whatever dark power that book held, it won't be shared."
Brenda stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"You did the right thing, Faramos. This place is already less dark for it."
As the fire slowly died down, leaving only the charred remains of the twisted tome, Brenda turned her attention to the storage room.
"Looks like we've found something useful for a change," she muttered, grabbing the bags with
salted meat. She got one and tossed another sack to Nindia, who caught it with a nod of gratitude. In the meantime, Faramos grabs the
timber axe with a smile.
OOC:
Nindia, increase your
food die to a
D10. I increased Brenda's.
Faramos, you can add the axe to your gear list.
Are you going to take something else? What do you do? Let's go inside?