Aabka

The room was dark, almost pitch black but not quite as a few luminous molds and fungi allowed shadowy light to permeate the room. It smelled; death, decay, mildew and other odors floated about or actually invaded the nostrils of anyone who entered the chamber. The filth had always been present in the chamber, its sole occupant neither cared nor worried about such matters. The chamber was large nearly thirty feet wide and almost fifty feet long. A once grand long oak table now laid on the floor, decaying and rotting. A large bench was at the far end allowing its occupant to sit at the large desk, it was scribbling on some paper - useless scribbling as it was incapable of anything greater. Whatever it might have been it cared little for housekeeping or cleaning.

The rogue had entered the room silently of course, but he suspected it somehow knew he was there.

A black oozing stain was on the western wall of the chamber. At the foot of the floor, that met this dripping and oozing matter, was what remained of something organic. The rogue's eyes surveyed the dim chamber, his short dagger already out and visible, casting a faint bluish glow to the room. The north-eastern corner had another oozing organic matter on its surface. This of something that was once green and slimy, however most of its remains had either dried up or perhaps eaten...

The largest of the trio stepped off the stone stairs into the room, his chain mail armor chinked a little, but it was quite obvious the thing at the far end of the room was already aware of them. The man had already pulled his long sword out, ornated with silver and platinum edges, its glow casting forth an almost brilliant white light that filled the chamber.

The woman stepping into the room wore chain mail as well, though hers was woven into a strong leather hide to offer more flexibility and strength. Her eyes focused on the grate in the center of the chamber. A single stream of water flowed from the eastern wall. Some hole or seepage had found a way into the room and now dropped down as a somewhat continuous trickle into the grate. They knew what they sought was further down past the iron of those grates, hidden in the past ages.

She pulled forth her weapon as well, a flail. Her weapon cast or shed no light. She swung it clear from her body, as each of the three chains dropped from the ancient hard wooden shaft. Its end capped with a platinum guard, the chains made of the purest iron. Each connected to a ball of steel covered with spikes. The woman shifted her gaze from the grate to the sole occupant of the room.

The brilliant light of the man's sword allowed the trio now to look upon the occupant.

It was huge, far larger than the stories circulating the village. It was difficult to tell where its normal grayish-green skin color began and where the splashes of darker green and gray matter ended or offered to the vision. From their position it wore what amounted to tatters around its waist and nothing else save for a single steel manacle around its right ankle, perhaps a remnant of its former life. Its back and upper arms bristled with muscle and power, building upon what the villagers had stated.

The rogue gazed upon the occupant, an ogre, as he nodded toward his companions. The occupant shifted and flexed its body as it slowly rose to deal with the new intruders to its lair. Its primitive mind struggled with why it could not find a safe place to reside. First the green ugly creature a month or so ago, and then that strange man a week or so ago. It rose and turned to face its newest disturbance.

The brilliant light filled its eyes as it stared at the trio, both the woman and rogue stepped back slightly from the revolting sight before them. The ogre's left side seemed to be ghastly and decaying from whatever had happened to it. Greenish ooze mingled with an almost blackish ichor that dripped from its left arm. Some of the flesh had already decayed from the arm but its muscles still seemed to function. The arm ended with a massive hand which now was missing the two furthest fingers from its thumb. Greenish ooze dripped slightly from the decaying hand. Its grayish-green discolored skin had almost luminous greenish veins as if whatever infection had already ran its course. The ogre's legs were massive, but it was apparent as well that the left leg seemed somewhat distorte. Dark green blisters seem to cover its surface - discharging the greenish oozing material from within. As each stared at the ogre's face, it could be noted that its left eye was completely useless, having been eaten away by whatever rot the greenish substance was. Its right eye caught their attention as it focused on the trio, in that brief almost instant look the trio realized that this ogre was far more intelligent than any of his kind.

The ogre took an initial step closer to the trio which revealed its limp in the left leg and the somewhat favoring of its right leg. The tattered rags of its torn and almost shredded pants, did little to hide his masculine nature, though it was infected and dripping with the greenish ooze as well. Its right hand gripped the club near the table firmly, muscles in its hands causing the club to strain from the pressure. The noise of the club being squeezed brought the rogue's eyes to the weapon, a simple wooden club no more or no less, with what looked like six inch nails protruding from one end. Green ichor mixed with some blackish ichor and blood seemed to coat the nailed end. The ogre lifted it with ease, indicating to the trio its massive strength was still quite sufficient.

The man looked at the ogre as it hefted the club regarding them, it was still tired, its body fighting a raging battle within. The greenish thing had hurt it bad, it was for all purposes going to die from the wounds, it could not stop the decaying - it considered itself stupid for the mistake it had made. Alone is all it sought, but none would leave it alone.

Then a few days ago, perhaps a week at the most, a strange human had attacked him. The human looked sick as well to the ogre, but disturbed him. It remembered how it tried to bite him repeatedly but it crushed him with its club, smashed the man into pulp with its mighty club. The human had screamed from the pain, begging and pleading for Aabka to stop, but the ogre had no reason to - it was mad and in fury and rage killed the man. In the cruel fate of the universe, the club the ogre had used once belonged to a highly powerful priest - the blessed club was taken by the ogre and used to beat the priest in to a similar mash of pulp. The ogre added his additions to the club, the long nails and continued to use it, unknown to the ogre its highly blessed and somewhat magical nature.

Since the encounter with the strange man, the ogre had black ichor dripping from a few of his wounds - he considered it a further sign of his eventual death. But almost a day or so later, his strength began to return though the two afflictions raged a constant battle in his body and mind. He could feel the sense of power that now ran its course through his veins, and he could smell them too. No his mind hinted at, he could smell their blood and fear about them. Blood... The smell triggered additional sensations and a deep hunger now growing in his body...

The man moved quickly as he tested the ogre's defenses, his sword crashing against the club. The sound of the strike as well as the way it was deflected told him the club was not an ordinary weapon, something more - perhaps even magical in nature. He pulled back as he moved in to strike the ogre again, who swung its club over his head. The wind blowing past him informed how lucky he was to have avoided its teeth and force.

With the move an opening was revealed as he ducked in and pushed his sword into the creature's belly, the blade slipped into the hilt as the ogre roared out in pain and anger. But its hunger drove its actions as it suddenly leaned forward sinking its teeth into the man's neck and shoulder. The man let out a yell of pain as the ogre tore through the chain mail armor protecting his neck. Blood flowed from his body as the ogre fed on him, he realized his mistake almost immediately but this was impossible - how, when? The man turned to look at his sister, "Kara! Run - this monster is the vampire, not its guard!" His words were the last he would speak, already blood was squirting and spraying from his wound.

The woman saw it as well, she watched as the Darin, the rogue, moved into to strike at the creature. He had a weapon that was capable of killing a vampire, even one such as this... He only got as close to the ogre as would allow the club to crush his chest in, the rogue had underestimated the ogre's speed and power - a grin surfaced on the ogre's face temporarily as it began to accept its new strength and power. The ogre held the swordsman with its decaying hand while its other arm had flexed and swung the club. The force crushed Darin as the nails tore holes into his chest, blood squirted out as the rogue dropped and rolled unmoving. A reddish pool of blood flowing out from his body, driving the ogre's into a new heightened sense of rage and hunger. The ogre's good eye focused on the twitching body, noting it would not be a threat - something deeper inside wanted to pound the little man to pulp but a new stronger intellect was reshaping his mind.

It turned back to the man he held and tore down onto the man's neck once again, the first wound was a mortal one - this was just hunger feeding the ogre now. The ogre bit down and tore the man's head from the body as it let go of the club in its right hand. As the man's body started to slump to the floor it eyed the woman turning to escape the chamber, with a forceful toss of her brother's head, it hit her in the back knocking her to the floor. She rolled slightly and struggled to regain her footing but the blow had been powerful and had knocked the wind from her. The ogre reached down to the man's body as it continued to tear off flesh, its hunger now driven by the need of blood as well as the need of flesh, as both afflictions balanced in the monster's body.

Another sensation soon surfaced in its mind as it looked down at the blade embedded into its chest, it had pondered the blow only for a few seconds and had disregarded it as it killed the man. But, now it looked at the blade again, reaching up it pulled it out and looked at the bright light being shed from its metal. It hurt to stare at its glow, it wondered that as well - light never bothered it before. Shrugging it pushed the blade into the eastern stone wall embedding it to the hilt, the light faded. The room returned to the natural darkness lit by the glow of the lichen or mold and the bluish tint of the rogue's blade. It sniffed the air again...

The ogre turned looking at the woman trying to get back up, a new hunger had suddenly filled its mind as it sensed the woman's presense for the first time - it released the body it held as it slowly moved toward the woman, meaning to fulfill that new hunger and then perhaps it would eat again...

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