Faith of the Undying (excerpt)

The drow, Ventau Plu'naath hummed nervously to himself, glancing in all directions as he attempted to navigate his way through this cave, which would lead him back home.

The heated dampness of the sometimes overly cramped passageway did not trouble the young bard nor did the knowledge that he was lost. Ventau knew his luck would see him through. The loneliness was, however, lowering the bard's morale. Bards tended to excel when they were amongst other adventurers, weaving new glorious tales to tell.

Ventau looked around again trying to get his bearings when he heard the squeaking and flapping. He groaned. The bats in these caves were known to be large, brave, poisonous, and carnivorous. Ventau reached to the scabbard on his waist and pulled his rapier from its sheath as silently as possible. The blade was old, and the rust screeched. He grimaced, but with a flip of his wrist, he had the blade readied- just in time as the creature fluttered in view ahead. A second bat entered the fray just as the first, having sized up the bard and decided that he was a potential meal, emitted a high pitch squeal that hurt the drow's ears, drew in its wings, and dove for Ventau.

The bard was ready though. With his left hand, he flung a pinch of dust he kept in a pouch on his hip into the air toward his vermin enemy, while uttering a single word. The dust incinerated instantly with a blinding flash, but the young drow had closed his eyes. The bats' sensitive eyesight took the full blast, sending them both tumbling to the floor, dazed. The drow wasted no time in stabbing both of the creatures several times. He wiped the blood from the blade on his cloak before sheathing the weapon. He remembered his quest. He considered his options, shrugged, and then idly continued his journey.

Along the way, he spotted some mushrooms and lichens that were extremely valuable. He always stopped to collect these and dropped them into a cloth sack that he had tied to his pack

Before long, the cavern opened wide. The ceiling was dotted with writhing, snakelike phosphorescent worms. With his sharp eyesight, Ventau was able to make out the distinct features of the creatures as they undulated around one another in a sort of underground aurora. He began walking toward the center of the room while admiring the beauty of the creatures. Even if they were somewhat repulsive to the drow, there was no denying the majesty of the sight.

Then, without warning there was a sound like thunder rolling in from a distant storm. The hollow, thick sounds filled the air as the chamber collapse ended, leaving only echoing thunder and a thick cloud of dust as proof that anything at all had happened.

Before the dust settled, Ventau found that he only had some minor scrapes and bruises and a sprained wrist. He grabbed his injured wrist and sputtered a word. Instant warmth passed through his arm as the healing magic reconstituted the torn tissues. His voice had aroused the master of this abode, evidenced by the hollow clacking echoing through the room. Then the bard noted the webs hanging tattered around the hole to the room above.

Some of the translucent glowworms had fallen with the bard and were illuminating the area immediately around the wreckage of the cave-in in a soft blue light. In that light, he saw the first enormous spindly leg clamor into view. He gasped; the arachnid sped to the sound, revealing its entire ponderous bulk. Slightly shorter than the drow while on all eight legs, the huge, hairy beast was at least five times the drow's mass. He had no choice but to flee. He dove to the side as the massive brown creature lunged to where he had been standing.

It quickly became apparent that although the spider was no more adept than he was at navigating the littered cavern, Ventau was going to die. He couldn't evade the spider forever. His doom seemed overly certain when the creature did not even slow as the bard ignited his flash powder. He concentrated fully on evading the spider, hoping he might wear the arachnid to exhaustion.

His nimble dark elf legs pumped fiercely, jumping on several stones in fast order as he attempted to flee. Then he was at the edge of the wreckage from the room above. He bolted, or started to bolt, but there was an intact web, its sticky fluid reflecting the phosphorescence just slightly, menacing his intended path. He spun, rusty blade in hand, just as the spider reached him. It slowed, stalking its prey, Ventau Thirn.

The arachnid reared and reached at least twice the drow's height. The bard snapped the blade forward in an attempt to pierce the monster's exoskeleton. The blade snapped on impact. Ventau cowered on the floor, trying to think of a way to placate his destroyer, hoping the end would come quickly. The spider dropped to all eight legs and took a step closer. The drow squeezed his eyes shut, unable to face his final moment. He heard a cracking snap like a tree falling. Surprised that his body had not made the sound, his eyes popped open just in time to see the vast boulder, which had been hanging from the ceiling only a moment ago, slice through the void and crush his oppressor with a sickening, throaty crunch. Liquid erupted in all directions, washing over the bard, irritating any skin it touched. A pittance of an inconvenience versus death, thought the bard.