Addison Stephenson

@RollForRewrites

Unpublished writer rolling nat 1s through the chaotic dungeon of drafting my first fantasy novel. Plot holes? Just side quests in disguise.

Land of the Hobbits

Joined December 2024

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Addison Stephenson @RollForRewrites

over 1 year ago

This started as a scene in my WIP, but got cut, so thought I'd share here. Traven peered into the pitch-black corridor, his heart pounding in his chest. The sound of shuffling echoed ominously from within the shadows. His Gnomish dark vision revealed the grim details of the passage ahead. Moss clung to the damp stone walls, water dripped rhythmically from above, pooling on the uneven cobblestones, and thick cobwebs draped the corners like forgotten curtains. Even the spiders that spun them seemed to shrink back from whatever lurked deeper in the hall. But it was the source of the shuffling that commanded Traven's focus. His breath hitched, shallow and uneven, as he unconsciously held it in anticipation. He knew what awaited him, he could feel it in his soul. Yet, he needed to see it. To confront the terror face-to-face, to force his frozen feet into action. A moment later, Traven’s fears took shape in the darkness. What began as a faint glimmer of red grew brighter and sharper, piercing through the shadows. Two glowing red stones, set deep within the hollow eye sockets of a decaying corpse, locked onto him. The stones were the source of the undead creature's animation, pulsing faintly as if feeding the abomination's unnatural existence. Judging by the sparse remnants of flesh clinging to its frame, the body had been dead for a very long time. As it staggered closer, more details came into focus. It dragged a massive, rusted axe behind it, the blade scraping along the cobblestones, leaving a trail of sparks that danced in the dimness. The screech of metal on stone echoed eerily through the corridor, amplifying the creature's dread-inducing presence. The left leg bore the tattered remains of a boot, while its dark, skeletal bones glistened as if coated in some viscous, unholy substance. A belt hung loosely around its waist, serving no purpose now, and across its chest was the remnant of a filthy tunic, its original color long lost to decay. Large tears in the fabric exposed rib bones that jutted through like grotesque bars in a macabre cage. The stench of death and something far fouler filled the air as the monstrosity advanced. Traven spun on his heels, his small Gnomish frame springing into motion as he fled from the lumbering zombie. His short legs pumped furiously, carrying him down the corridor with surprising speed. He leapt over a pile of debris from a collapsed section of the keep’s roof, the jagged remnants a cruel reminder of the stronghold’s long abandonment. The acrid air of the keep assaulted his senses, each breath burning his snub nose and leaving a foul taste in his mouth. But there was no time to dwell on the stench—Traven knew the undead would not stop. It did not tire, did not need food or rest as he did. As long as the Manari stones glowed within its eye sockets, the abomination would pursue him relentlessly. When the corridor split at a junction, Traven skidded to a halt his mind racing. He had to choose a path. One way led back to the keep’s old great hall, the last place he wanted to see again. It was there that the nightmare had begun, where the zombie had been set upon him by its creator. He shuddered at the thought of the channeler still lurking there, no doubt watching him flee with a smug twisted smile of satisfaction. That sinister figure had brought the monstrosity to life, and Traven had no doubt about how powerful he was. Had he known the channeler was here, he would never, not in a million years have dared to enter this cursed place. But there was no time for regret, only of action. He clenched his jaw, forcing his mind to focus. One wrong choice could seal his fate. Traven veered to the right, sprinting down an unfamiliar passage. He hadn’t explored this part of the keep before and had no idea what awaited him. The darkness ahead seemed to stretch endlessly, a new layer of dread lurking around every corner.