The adventurer ambled down the old, cobbled path that led to the dark and foreboding estate on the edge of town. She grasped hold of the antique knocker and struck it upon the door three times. Moments later, the door swung open to reveal a man backlit by candlelight. He was middle-aged and dressed in a formal and scholarly fashion. His beard was short, neat, and brown, and his eyes were hidden behind dark spectacles. Under one arm, he held a heavy tome, which was bound in red leather and etched with golden runes.
“You must be Westra Morrow. Have you brought the map?” he
queried, his voice betraying little emotion.
“I have indeed, Mr. Hunter,” She produced a yellowed piece
of parchment. “The ruins lie within a swamp a couple dozen miles from here.
Only question is whether an old man like you can handle the dangers that
Ancient Builder ruins tend to hold,” she teased.
“You’ll find that I am quite capable of defending myself,”
Mr. Hunter responded flatly.
A few hours later, the pair came within sight of the ruins.
Jutting from beneath the murky bog were the mossy and crumbling remains of
ancient stonework. The duo descended a crumbling stairway into the darkness
below, their only source of light being the torch that Westra held before her.
For a few dreadful minutes, they descended. All was still and quiet save for
the sound of their boots upon the decaying masonry and the centuries of dust
disturbed by their passage.
Finally, a large, rectangular chamber came into view at the
bottom of the steps. The room was constructed from stone bricks and was rather
plain, save for the trio of stone sarcophagi positioned against each of the
side walls. The adventurer stepped cautiously forward and began to carefully
examine the engravings on one of them. As she did so, there was a faint
rumbling, followed by the sound of stone lids striking the floor.
Westra took a panicked step back and hastily drew her sword
as a towering, greatsword-wielding mummy rose out of the sarcophagus before
her. She barely sidestepped its attacks, then struck it in the face with her
burning torch, setting it alight. The burning mummy growled in anger as it
shuffled forward. The adventurer deflected its massive blade with her
shortsword, then kicked the monster backwards, sending it toppling back into
its tomb.
Westra turned to see a second mummy approaching her
scholarly companion. Mr. Hunter muttered something under his breath as he
conjured an ornate scimitar from within his tome. He deftly blocked the
undead’s blows and relieved it of its head with a single, precise swipe. He
can really handle himself for an old academic. Maybe we can actually make it
out of this alive. Westra’s thought was interrupted by four additional foes
closing in on them. The pair fought back-to-back, holding the monsters at bay.
After what felt, to Westra, like an eternity of combat, the explorers stood
alone in the silent and foreboding chamber, the floor littered with bandaged
corpses.
The explorer stumbled over to one wall and leaned against
it, panting heavily. Across the room, she could see that the older man seemed
completely unfazed; not a drop of perspiration marked his brow. He strode over
to one of the now empty sarcophagi and peered inside. Sweeping aside centuries
of dust with his hand, he uncovered an inscription written in a dead tongue:
“Only one whose path is paved with the skulls of his enemies may claim to be
worthy of the treasures within,” he translated.
“I really don’t like the sound of that.”
“The Ancient Builders were not a very kind people, but
luckily for us, we have access to the skulls of some enemies right here,” Mr.
Hunter replied with a dry chuckle. He snatched the severed head of a mummy from
the floor and held it aloft. “By my might and the spilled blood of those who
would oppose me, I demand claim over these ancient riches,” he recited.
The moment the scholar finished speaking, the ground began
to violently rumble as the mummy’s head turned to dust in his grasp and a large
section of one wall slid into the floor.
Westra was momentarily blinded by the light streaming from enchanted
braziers in the newly revealed chamber. “How did you know the right words?” she
asked, her voice betraying her trepidation.
“It is my passion to study the past. I have learned much
about the Ancient Builders and their customs,” he answered as he stepped into
the chamber. The floor was buried
beneath a thick layer of gold, and glittering jewels could be seen dotted
amongst the coins. Hanging on the far wall was an embellished shield bearing a
crest that Mr. Hunter knew to belong to one of the Ancient Builders’ generals.
Westra hesitantly moved into the room and began to look
around. “Get back!” the scholar abruptly shouted. The adventurer glanced
fearfully around, looking for the danger that her companion had seen. Much of
the coinage suddenly began to melt and fuse together. The two explorers slowly
backed towards the exit as the gold coalesced into a towering humanoid figure.
Westra dropped her sword and stumbled back in surprise. She
drew a revolver from her belt as the golem approached. She fired several shots
into the golden statue, but its advance was not slowed. With a swing of its
mighty arm, it sent the adventurer careening into one wall. Westra lay dazed
and slumped against the wall, her weapon having been flung across the room.
The guardian turned its attention to the other intruder and
swung its great arm once more. Mr. Hunter leapt back, easily dodging the blow.
He scowled in frustration as he sliced his blade across its chest, leaving a
deep gash and sending the golem stumbling back. He drove the creature back
further with a second cut before retreating a few steps and opening his tome.
The scholar recited an arcane chant from its pages and blasted his golden foe
with a terrific wave of fire. The golem was hurled backwards, exploding into a
shower of molten gold against the far wall.
Westra threw her hands up in front of her face as she was
momentarily blinded by the intense light and heat. When her vision returned,
she sat staring, mouth agape, at the streaks of molten metal oozing down the
wall.
Mr. Hunter dismissed the blade from his grasp in a puff of
smoke and strode to where the shield was affixed. He removed his prize from the
wall and examined it closely, poring over its every detail. “By my estimation,
a piece like this is worth around ten thousand gold. This should cover it,” he
explained, removing a handful of precious jewels from his pocket and tossing
them to his companion.
The man turned to leave, but only got a few steps before he
heard “Stop!” He turned to see Westra pointing a revolver at him. “You have
been lying to me! How could an ordinary scholar defeat mummies and golems with
such ease? Who are you? What are you? Are you truly even human?”
she demanded.
“I am a collector of curiosities and objects of historical
significance, and a student of the past. Nothing more, and nothing less,” he
replied, his expression revealing nothing.
“You survived terrifying battles without breaking a sweat
and unleashed a blast of fire more impressive than that of any mage I have ever
seen, all while demonstrating an incredible amount of knowledge about a
civilization that met its end six centuries ago! How do you expect me to
believe you are a mere collector?” she retorted.
“If your brazen surmise is correct, and I am something much
more than I let on, how do you expect to threaten me with a weapon such as
that? And if you are wrong, you will have shot an old man in cold blood. Now
tell me… does either scenario end well for you?” he coldly reasoned.
Westra stood speechless, the gun quivering in her hand as Mr. Hunter turned his back and strode out of the room, leaving the ruins in total silence once more.
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