by AngelOzwin » Tue Jun 30, 2015 6:21 pm
Ferondir found himself on the floor in a dark room, he had dropped his staff when the creature had pulled his underground. He squinted around. He could barely make out a bed and a few tables around the room. The blinds were shut, and a thin line of sun shinned through a gap between them.
He stood up; he had to get some light on the subject. He opened one of the curtains. Light flooded in. The bed was covered in dust, at its foot, there was a small chest. On the wall opposite to the window, there was a painting of a old castle tower surrounded by forest. He stepped over to the chest, and bent down to examine it. It was clearly very old, and a decorative painting of flowers adorned one side. The ancient mettle latch opened easily and Ferondir found two pieces of silver. He dug through the dust at the bottom and found a couple of withered and dried berries. Upon closer examination, he identified them as frost berries. He looked around again. There was a door to the left. He needed to figure out where he was. He figured he must still be in the mansion since the oil lamps in here were the same style as the ones he had seen when they entered. But where had the floormaster put him. He'd read about them. They thrived in old and forgotten places like this one, which made them a real problem for treasure hunters. He tried the door. It didn't open. He was trapped. He glanced at the window. It was too small to accept him. He was really stuck in this tiny room. He felt panic rise and pushed it down inside him. If he was going to get out, he needed a clear mind. Maybe the door was simply jammed. Hem grabbed the handle with his hand and placed his other shoulder on the door. He shoved, hard, and with a loud screech, it slipped open much faster then Ferondir had anticipated. It slammed into the wall, and flung him to the floor.
He picked himself off the dust covered ground and brushed the gritty time off his cloak. The light from the door behind him dimly lit the bathroom he was in. It featured a tub, sink, and toilet. Clearly, whoever had lived here had been very wealthy indeed.
"Tell me who you are!" he demanded of the air, knowing the disembodied voice was listening. "I wish to know my killer." He, of course, had no plans to die, but he knew his enemy would be more cooperative if he, himself, seemed defeated.