650 1:1 handcrafted NFTs. Bridging the gap between fine art, puzzle-solving, & choosing your own adventure.
In the previous episode Chapter 1: Episode VII | Majority voted: “Giml, Sade, Pit".
Drip…Drip…Drip…
The water from the cave roof trickled down the edge of the rocky walls. Centuries of steady droplets had cut a path clean through the rock and the water, like tree roots, dispersed and seeped its way towards the cave floor. Silvae, who was slumped against the edge of the cave wall, awoke to beads of water lapping at the side of the hood of his cloak. Feeling groggy and disoriented he rolled onto his back and stared in the black void above. Was he dead? Had the Gods called for him? What had happened in those last moments in the mud? It was at this moment that a drop of water fell from the cave roof and hit Silvae squarely in the face, promptly causing him to snap out of his delusions of death and purgatory. He sat up with a jolt and, remembering that he had been stabbed by Kipflix, ran his hand along the side of his cloak. The fabric was torn, cut clean by the blade, but there was no wound, he was entirely healed without so much as even a scar. Silvae, although uneasy at the fact that he had mysteriously recovered from what was certain to have been his death, could not help feel relieved that he was uninjured. Turning his attention to his surroundings, he began to wonder how he had survived, and more importantly, where he was.
Silvae smelt the air, damp and decaying. There was something closed in about the smell. It felt as if he was breathing the breath of many others, yet, not at this moment. It was as if he could feel the history of the place in the air. Leaning forward, he felt the ground. It was covered in a thick sand that was soft to the touch. He buried his hand in it and began to feel around. Nothing but a slab of hard rock below. Strange, thought Silvae, this was unlike any cave he had been in before. Wherever he was he felt that the purpose of him being there was confinement - it was no accident that he was alone in the dark. He shifted his body and tried to find his footing thinking that if he could find the edge of the cave he might follow it to a passage that led to lightness or even escape. As he went to stand, he felt something clank and drag on his feet. “Dammit'' he exclaimed, feeling about at his ankle he felt a chain loosely looped around his leg. He gave it several hard tugs and tried to pull the chain from the loop that held him to the cave floor. In doing so the clank of iron on rock reverberated off the cave walls and Silvae instantly regretted his decision to try and free himself. It was at this point that a voice pierced the silence that he had just disturbed with the sound of the chain.
“Stop it” hissed a voice in the darkness, “they’ll hear you. You don’t want them to come down here. You don’t want them near you at all”. Silvae, taken aback by the revelation he was not alone, snapped his head in the direction of the raspy voiced stranger. “Who said that? Name yourself and your intentions” replied Silvae in a mix of confidence and confusion toward the void in front of him. “Shhh” replied the voice. “You must keep quiet, they’ll hear you, they’ll punish you… They’ll come for us…” replied the raspy voice. Silvae, more perplexed than frightened, shifted close to the voice, his chains rattled, and the sound echoed off the cave walls again. “Who are they? Who and what are you talking about? Where are we?” Rattling off the questions in quick succession, Silvae was interrupted by another voice.
“Who’s talking?” boomed the voice off the cave walls.
Silvae turned his head in the direction of this new voice. A brightness flickered in the distance, and he heard boots thudding on wooden boards. It was then that the lightness seemed to burst from the ground in front of him and a figure emerged, torch in hand. The figure, about 20 meters from Silvae, turned and began to make his way to the Herbalist. He stopped short and shifted the torch in front of him. “Which one of you is making that noise? You know that talking here is punishable.” Silvae, looking back at the figure, caught a glimpse of the illuminated cave behind him. There he could make out 2 other huddled figures, chained to the ground in much the same fashion as him, they seemed deathly still and silent. The room, although appearing cavernous on first inspection, was much smaller than he had anticipated. Most certainly, this was a cave turned dungeon of some kind, but was accessible from below. A most strange design Silvae thought, one he had no reference to from book or memory.
It was at this point the dark figure shifted the torch and leaned in towards Silvae’s general direction. Raising the torch up to his eyeline he cast a light over Silvae, illuminating the Herbalist against the backdrop of the cavern walls. “You there” bellowed the voice, “are you the one that interrupts me?” Silvae, somewhat blinded by the brightness of the torch, recoiled from the light. Lifting his hand over his brow, he squinted and waited for his vision to adjust to the flickering of the torch light. “Interrupt? Me? I think you’ll find good ser that it is you who have interrupted me. You see, I am not overly fond of chains, nor damp caves”. The figure, audibly scoffed and leaned in closer with the torch. The heat of the flame somewhat jarred Silvae, who, until this point, had not realized how cold the cavern was. “You’ve got quite the sense of humor Forest man.” Squatting down to eye level with Silvae, the dark figure put the torch on the ground next to him and shifted through his pack for something. Temporarily illuminated by his own light, Silvae was able to better make out what the mysterious figure looked like. Clad in a red robe, leather gambeson, and dark felt boots, the man appeared to be in his middle to late 50s. He had a thick black beard, and long dark hair, someone foreign Silvae thought, perhaps a Quentarian, although he was not quite sure what the inhabitants of the Red looked like other than what he had read on scrolls. The man, finding what he was looking for, tossed something in Silvae’s direction. Hitting him on the chest, Silvae looked down to see a piece of stale Djedger bread. “Eat now, you will need your strength,” said the man. Silvae, unsure what to make of the gesture, did not move. “I’m sorry friend, I cannot accept your generosity until you tell me who you are and where I am. As I said, I am not overly fond of chains”, replied Silvae calmly. The man, still squatting, turned his head away from Silvae and looked in the direction of the other prisoners. “You eat, and later you walk.”
“Walk, walk where?” replied a confused Silvae.
The man turned back to face Silvae. Clasping his hands together, he let out a slow breath of warm air and began to rub them together. “Do you know why these caverns are so cold? Surely not but I will enlighten you to the ways of this part of the world. You might not think it but they were dug here with the specific purpose of refuge from the flames above. You see, at one time there was much war and famine above, and those seeking shelter dug down below the river to escape.” The man reached down and picked up a handful of sand off the floor below. Allowing the sand to trickle from one hand through the other he gestured towards Silvae. “You see, the sand here is red and coarse. It’s dune sand, the sand of my people,” the man trailed off and seemed to be lost in thought. Silvae, shuffled back and straightened himself, he wanted to appear tall in the face of the stranger. The Man continued, “My… people… yes…. this is what interests me my friend, we are 5 days hard walking from the dunes… so how do you suppose the sand got here? It’s a question I have asked myself many times….” Silvae, feeling confused and frustrated now leaned forward towards the man.
“Enough! Enough sand, enough of your people, I want to know what’s going on. Who are you, where am I, who is holding me here?” replied an exasperated Silvae. The man stood up abruptly, “my name is Djatar, that is all you need to know. Tomorrow, you walk” and with that he turned and left.
Silvae, confused, and sitting in the dark began to try and piece together the events that preceded this moment. He knew that he had been stabbed by Kipflix, and he vaguely remembered being carried and dragged through mud. What he was unclear about was everything in between, and he felt that this man, Djatar, had the answers. Distracted by these thoughts Silvae suddenly felt a rush of panic run through him. “Tally!” he internally exclaimed. He had totally forgotten about the Marchioness! What had befallen her? Had she suffered the same fate as him? Was she still with Kipflix? Feeling a sense of dread fall over him, Silvae turned and began to look frantically around the cave but was met by nothing but darkness. “Tally” he began to shout in a low tone so as not to bring Djatar back up from the passage below.
“Tally are you here?”
“Quiet!” snapped the raspy voice from the dark. “You’ll bring him back. Your friend…. Not here… Just us…” replied the voice frantically.
“I mean not to bring anyone here” Silvae replied in a hushed tone, “but I desperately need your help. Can you tell me where we are? Who are the others in here with us?”
“Shhh! Shhh! don’t bring them back!!! They’ll come!!! They’ll hear you!!! They’ll stop you like they did the others!!!” wailed the raspy voice.
Silvae, not wanting to provoke a further outburst from the raspy voiced man that might prompt Djatar to return elected to leave his questions unanswered for now.
Turning his attention back to the problem at hand, Silvae began to inspect his bindings. Along his legs ran a single length of chain that wound around his ankles and looped through a circular latch that had been hammered into the stone ground. Although not firmly secured, it was too tight to slip out of. As he ran his hand over the length of the chain he felt the grit of rust and dust in between his fingers, “a good sign” thought Silvae as an older worn chain might be cracked or yanked apart if enough force was applied. The problem was how was he going to break the bindings, and how was he going to do it in a manner quietly enough to not alert Djatar…. Silvae sighed and leant back against the side of the cavern wall. He could probably break the chain, but was it safer to make a run for it in the morning? What about asking the strange raspy voice for help?
1.) Break the chain now and run for it.
2.) Wait until morning and try and run when “the walk” begins.
3.) Ask the raspy voiced man for help.
4.) Do nothing and try and find a better plan later.
Vote here:
Read the rest of the episodes | Join our Discord | Join us on Twitter
In the previous episode Chapter 1: Episode VII | Majority voted: “Giml, Sade, Pit".
Drip…Drip…Drip…
The water from the cave roof trickled down the edge of the rocky walls. Centuries of steady droplets had cut a path clean through the rock and the water, like tree roots, dispersed and seeped its way towards the cave floor. Silvae, who was slumped against the edge of the cave wall, awoke to beads of water lapping at the side of the hood of his cloak. Feeling groggy and disoriented he rolled onto his back and stared in the black void above. Was he dead? Had the Gods called for him? What had happened in those last moments in the mud? It was at this moment that a drop of water fell from the cave roof and hit Silvae squarely in the face, promptly causing him to snap out of his delusions of death and purgatory. He sat up with a jolt and, remembering that he had been stabbed by Kipflix, ran his hand along the side of his cloak. The fabric was torn, cut clean by the blade, but there was no wound, he was entirely healed without so much as even a scar. Silvae, although uneasy at the fact that he had mysteriously recovered from what was certain to have been his death, could not help feel relieved that he was uninjured. Turning his attention to his surroundings, he began to wonder how he had survived, and more importantly, where he was.
Silvae smelt the air, damp and decaying. There was something closed in about the smell. It felt as if he was breathing the breath of many others, yet, not at this moment. It was as if he could feel the history of the place in the air. Leaning forward, he felt the ground. It was covered in a thick sand that was soft to the touch. He buried his hand in it and began to feel around. Nothing but a slab of hard rock below. Strange, thought Silvae, this was unlike any cave he had been in before. Wherever he was he felt that the purpose of him being there was confinement - it was no accident that he was alone in the dark. He shifted his body and tried to find his footing thinking that if he could find the edge of the cave he might follow it to a passage that led to lightness or even escape. As he went to stand, he felt something clank and drag on his feet. “Dammit'' he exclaimed, feeling about at his ankle he felt a chain loosely looped around his leg. He gave it several hard tugs and tried to pull the chain from the loop that held him to the cave floor. In doing so the clank of iron on rock reverberated off the cave walls and Silvae instantly regretted his decision to try and free himself. It was at this point that a voice pierced the silence that he had just disturbed with the sound of the chain.
“Stop it” hissed a voice in the darkness, “they’ll hear you. You don’t want them to come down here. You don’t want them near you at all”. Silvae, taken aback by the revelation he was not alone, snapped his head in the direction of the raspy voiced stranger. “Who said that? Name yourself and your intentions” replied Silvae in a mix of confidence and confusion toward the void in front of him. “Shhh” replied the voice. “You must keep quiet, they’ll hear you, they’ll punish you… They’ll come for us…” replied the raspy voice. Silvae, more perplexed than frightened, shifted close to the voice, his chains rattled, and the sound echoed off the cave walls again. “Who are they? Who and what are you talking about? Where are we?” Rattling off the questions in quick succession, Silvae was interrupted by another voice.
“Who’s talking?” boomed the voice off the cave walls.
Silvae turned his head in the direction of this new voice. A brightness flickered in the distance, and he heard boots thudding on wooden boards. It was then that the lightness seemed to burst from the ground in front of him and a figure emerged, torch in hand. The figure, about 20 meters from Silvae, turned and began to make his way to the Herbalist. He stopped short and shifted the torch in front of him. “Which one of you is making that noise? You know that talking here is punishable.” Silvae, looking back at the figure, caught a glimpse of the illuminated cave behind him. There he could make out 2 other huddled figures, chained to the ground in much the same fashion as him, they seemed deathly still and silent. The room, although appearing cavernous on first inspection, was much smaller than he had anticipated. Most certainly, this was a cave turned dungeon of some kind, but was accessible from below. A most strange design Silvae thought, one he had no reference to from book or memory.
It was at this point the dark figure shifted the torch and leaned in towards Silvae’s general direction. Raising the torch up to his eyeline he cast a light over Silvae, illuminating the Herbalist against the backdrop of the cavern walls. “You there” bellowed the voice, “are you the one that interrupts me?” Silvae, somewhat blinded by the brightness of the torch, recoiled from the light. Lifting his hand over his brow, he squinted and waited for his vision to adjust to the flickering of the torch light. “Interrupt? Me? I think you’ll find good ser that it is you who have interrupted me. You see, I am not overly fond of chains, nor damp caves”. The figure, audibly scoffed and leaned in closer with the torch. The heat of the flame somewhat jarred Silvae, who, until this point, had not realized how cold the cavern was. “You’ve got quite the sense of humor Forest man.” Squatting down to eye level with Silvae, the dark figure put the torch on the ground next to him and shifted through his pack for something. Temporarily illuminated by his own light, Silvae was able to better make out what the mysterious figure looked like. Clad in a red robe, leather gambeson, and dark felt boots, the man appeared to be in his middle to late 50s. He had a thick black beard, and long dark hair, someone foreign Silvae thought, perhaps a Quentarian, although he was not quite sure what the inhabitants of the Red looked like other than what he had read on scrolls. The man, finding what he was looking for, tossed something in Silvae’s direction. Hitting him on the chest, Silvae looked down to see a piece of stale Djedger bread. “Eat now, you will need your strength,” said the man. Silvae, unsure what to make of the gesture, did not move. “I’m sorry friend, I cannot accept your generosity until you tell me who you are and where I am. As I said, I am not overly fond of chains”, replied Silvae calmly. The man, still squatting, turned his head away from Silvae and looked in the direction of the other prisoners. “You eat, and later you walk.”
“Walk, walk where?” replied a confused Silvae.
The man turned back to face Silvae. Clasping his hands together, he let out a slow breath of warm air and began to rub them together. “Do you know why these caverns are so cold? Surely not but I will enlighten you to the ways of this part of the world. You might not think it but they were dug here with the specific purpose of refuge from the flames above. You see, at one time there was much war and famine above, and those seeking shelter dug down below the river to escape.” The man reached down and picked up a handful of sand off the floor below. Allowing the sand to trickle from one hand through the other he gestured towards Silvae. “You see, the sand here is red and coarse. It’s dune sand, the sand of my people,” the man trailed off and seemed to be lost in thought. Silvae, shuffled back and straightened himself, he wanted to appear tall in the face of the stranger. The Man continued, “My… people… yes…. this is what interests me my friend, we are 5 days hard walking from the dunes… so how do you suppose the sand got here? It’s a question I have asked myself many times….” Silvae, feeling confused and frustrated now leaned forward towards the man.
“Enough! Enough sand, enough of your people, I want to know what’s going on. Who are you, where am I, who is holding me here?” replied an exasperated Silvae. The man stood up abruptly, “my name is Djatar, that is all you need to know. Tomorrow, you walk” and with that he turned and left.
Silvae, confused, and sitting in the dark began to try and piece together the events that preceded this moment. He knew that he had been stabbed by Kipflix, and he vaguely remembered being carried and dragged through mud. What he was unclear about was everything in between, and he felt that this man, Djatar, had the answers. Distracted by these thoughts Silvae suddenly felt a rush of panic run through him. “Tally!” he internally exclaimed. He had totally forgotten about the Marchioness! What had befallen her? Had she suffered the same fate as him? Was she still with Kipflix? Feeling a sense of dread fall over him, Silvae turned and began to look frantically around the cave but was met by nothing but darkness. “Tally” he began to shout in a low tone so as not to bring Djatar back up from the passage below.
“Tally are you here?”
“Quiet!” snapped the raspy voice from the dark. “You’ll bring him back. Your friend…. Not here… Just us…” replied the voice frantically.
“I mean not to bring anyone here” Silvae replied in a hushed tone, “but I desperately need your help. Can you tell me where we are? Who are the others in here with us?”
“Shhh! Shhh! don’t bring them back!!! They’ll come!!! They’ll hear you!!! They’ll stop you like they did the others!!!” wailed the raspy voice.
Silvae, not wanting to provoke a further outburst from the raspy voiced man that might prompt Djatar to return elected to leave his questions unanswered for now.
Turning his attention back to the problem at hand, Silvae began to inspect his bindings. Along his legs ran a single length of chain that wound around his ankles and looped through a circular latch that had been hammered into the stone ground. Although not firmly secured, it was too tight to slip out of. As he ran his hand over the length of the chain he felt the grit of rust and dust in between his fingers, “a good sign” thought Silvae as an older worn chain might be cracked or yanked apart if enough force was applied. The problem was how was he going to break the bindings, and how was he going to do it in a manner quietly enough to not alert Djatar…. Silvae sighed and leant back against the side of the cavern wall. He could probably break the chain, but was it safer to make a run for it in the morning? What about asking the strange raspy voice for help?
1.) Break the chain now and run for it.
2.) Wait until morning and try and run when “the walk” begins.
3.) Ask the raspy voiced man for help.
4.) Do nothing and try and find a better plan later.
Vote here:
Read the rest of the episodes | Join our Discord | Join us on Twitter
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650 1:1 handcrafted NFTs. Bridging the gap between fine art, puzzle-solving, & choosing your own adventure.
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