The couple of pages that the pharaoh had ripped free from their home-of-a-tome looked just like a terribly torn up foldout map. The crumpling hadn’t done it any favors, either. It was going to be difficult to gauge the exact distance from anything with all the tiny folds and pieces of paper that had fallen or been torn free. In fact, figuring out what the landmarks given on the map were meant to be was a challenge, too. Virmir was pretty sure that one of the little icons was meant to be the palace he was departing from, but it wasn’t a certainty. On the map, it was simply a planned spot for the future god-kings to have their place of power set up.
There was nothing that guaranteed that spot was where palace stood today. Maybe it was moved over a good half mile or so. Still, it was the only remotely close landmark he could use for reference – most of the other icons were halfway across the domain.
Even so, Virmir was left with a trek of a few miles. He took a copious number of waterskins, enchanted on the inside to keep their contents cooled, storing them in the back of his cloak. He thought about bringing along some food, too, but decided against it on the grounds of chancing gritty sand getting into his snacks, or worse, his mouth and teeth. His journey was only taken after filling up on some of the best delicacies that sat on the pharaoh’s tray, left lazily out in the halls.
Sand was not easy to trudge through, but it was better than snow. While his feet were singed then and again by the ground soaking in the midday sun, they at least were not freezing off at the toes – and though the dunes could sometimes be slippery, the worst he risked was falling into a soft bed of the stuff, as opposed to slipping and face-planting on ice.
He was forced to go slowly, cloak pulled closed to guard his front from gusts and cowl down to protect his face and ears. He allowed himself a chance occasionally to peek out and check his surroundings, the height and placement of the sun, and compare it all to his map before continuing to push against the environment.
Fortunately, Virmir found the remains of some sort of temple before he slammed his feet into the wrecked pillars it possessed. The sandstone, a slightly darker color than the environment about it, seemed to have fallen in on itself. Only a single support was still standing.
Treading through the ruins, the fox was surprised not to see a slab on the pillar that professed to the world how it should tremble before the great works wrought here. He figured that ego was one of the few things that persisted across all cultures. After all, if it stuck with him throughout all of his different encounters, then it had to have some power to it.
Maybe their lack of confidence was part of what led to it crumbling. Whatever was responsible, he spent the lesser part of an hour digging all around, trying to find something worth bringing back.
If there ever was anything of importance strewn around, it had long been carried away by the sands or by bandits. Virmir sighed and readied himself to head back with only some scraps of stone, but before he did, he decided to down one of his waterskins to prepare. He moved to the singular pillar and leaned against it, pulling a waterskin free –
But there was a click. Virmir bolted and jumped up, stepping nice and far away from the architecture before it had a chance to crush him. …but it didn’t move after the initial noise, still looking just as solid and secure.
He hmphed to himself and marched back to the pillar, putting a near-identical amount of pressure on it and listening. Again, there was that clicking, but nothing more. He looked all around the ruins, inspecting the ground to see if the sand dunes started to fall or rise in any odd spots.
Yet everything was just as serene as it could be with a strong, stinging wind. No hidden passages were raised up out of the ground and no big drops appeared from nothing. Virmir gave it a few more testing pushes, just to make certain that nothing had slipped by his sight…
Satisfied with his investigation of the surrounding area, he stepped far away from the pillar and gave it a solid blasting of fire and force.
There was no small click, suffice to say. Shards of sandstone scattered into the surrounding dunes while Virmir guarded himself behind his cloak. After the kaboom had run its course, he cautiously stepped over to where the pillar had once been, being careful around the now somewhat glassy surface that he had made.
That was certainly something that Virmir had to appreciate – sand had an exceptionally positive response to being toasted by loads and loads of fire magic. While some of the dust cleared, he grabbed up a glassy fulgurite and pocketed it for decoration later, or at least as a reminder of his time spent out in the sands.
With the olden architecture destroyed, Vir was able to see underneath where it once stood. A conspicuous square-shaped passage was now open to the desert air. Around it was a raised barrier, just low and slim enough to allow the pillar to move about some and let anyone who pushed up against it know what was in place just below. There were even some steps carved into the wall, making for easy climbing.
And so he stepped down into the passage after making sure that there were no traps on the opposite side, eager to impale him after years of acquiring dust. It was too dark to tell initially, but another, slower fireball illuminated the way down and made sure that anything organic was going to be nice and warmed up to him before he made his way down.
Virmir was alone at the bottom of the passage, ending up in some sort of chamber. In fact, it reminded him of the same throne room that was home to the current “pharaoh.” Apparently royalty didn’t hire very innovative contractors when they got their fancy, ornate palaces made. Of course, being underground, it was much darker, the only light source being the thin beams that barely reached the bottom of the passage behind him. He could see a couple of sconces raised up on the walls on either side of him. It took only a flick and a bit of focus to light them, and then the sconces ahead and behind them, until he had the entire area illuminated.
Things weren’t in a good state of repair. The ground was littered with cracks and splinters of stone, and some chips of paint that might have once been making up hieroglyphs were resting sadly in the corners of the room. Although much of it seemed identical to the throne room he knew, the whole area did seem more… open, somehow. Maybe the pharaoh of the past was much, much larger. He seriously doubted that they were any more godly than the current one was, though. Maybe they were older and had some magic in their arsenal, but that didn’t make them any less challengeable. Maybe duels were had in the throne room for amusement?
All his musing was just wasting his time, though. Virmir cleared his head and continued to walk through the room, searching for anything of worth. It didn’t seem likely that a hoard of artifacts would be kept out in the main entrance, however odd of a spot it was. Once it was clear that nothing of worth was nearby, he set his mind on finding any doorways or hallways to bust open and check out.
He eventually found one, in the obvious, cliché spot – right behind the throne, which was dilapidated and cracked down the right side, a chunk of it resting on the floor. The fox stepped over it with a stretch and continued down the new, open passage.
Down this way, there were no sconces or torches. He settled on just carrying his light in his hands, shaking his cloak a bit further down so as not to obscure it. With one paw raised and providing the only light in the darkened hall and the other pressed up against the wall to check for secret buttons or indents, he continued his march through the ruins.
It was somewhat suspicious that no priceless items were just tossed around lazily, Virmir thought to himself. If this were really some sort of pharaoh’s living space, they would have surely indulged and shown off their riches all around rather than hoard their collection like a dragon. If they were really so powerful, why would they have to hide their junk? Especially when the only people who would be around the pharaoh would be loyal and hand-picked…
He really hoped there wasn’t a dragon taking up residence down here. Most of them were pretty resistant to his element of choice. The only other explanation he could attribute to the disappearance of gold and jewels would be thievery, and he wasn’t in the business of tracking.
At the end of his thinking-hallway, Vir found a room that wasn’t nearly as devoid of items as the previous one. There were other hallways to follow out, but they weren’t as important. Gathered in a gigantic pile in the center of the room were all the ancient and priceless items that he could imagine, ranging from little golden trinkets to jeweled scepters and anklets and bracers. There were probably a few hundred things all grouped together. It was lopsided and uneven, too. He briefly wondered why dragons always just hoarded stuff in that manner; it couldn’t have been very comfortable to be sprawled out on.
For as suspicious as the treasure pile appeared, he didn’t see any draconic monsters nearby, nor was the loot cursed with some sort of guard-conscription magic. If he was quick about it, he might be able to gather up a sufficient amount of stuff to sell and hand over to the “pharaoh” before whatever had gathered it all up came back to check on its stash. He started with things that had fallen free of the pile, easily taking them and pocketing the smallest before moving on to ones that were stuck near the bottom, being careful to not upset the balance of the whole thing and send it crashing down like a glittery Jenga game.
But other than the jingle and clacking of gems and gold, Virmir could hear some sort of sliding, dragging, down one of the far corridors. Being on the opposite side of the pile from the noise, he stopped all his movement and looting to lay up against it and take cover to listen.
It was consistent and slow – not the kind of “lacking-in-speed” slowness, but a lazy, uncaring pace. He thought he could pick out alternation in what side the sound was coming from, too. Left, drag, right, drag, left… soon there was a louder echo to the noise and some of the items on the other end of the pile were clanging and being sifted through.
When it came to fight or flight, Vir was very dedicated to giving fighting a fair shot to begin with. If he could handle a threat, either by burning it down or by scaring it off, then that was definitely the way to go. If it failed, well… then it was a good time to run.
So he pushed himself off from the loot with a bit of force and whirled a fireball up and over the obstruction in the room.
Being short was sometimes a great slight to his combat abilities. For example, he had no clue if he had even hit anything thanks to being unable to see over the golden mountain. If he had only angered what was on the other side, he would be in for a world of hurt if he was unprepared. On the other hand, if he had incapacitated the enemy, it would have been a great time to traverse around and let loose with more fireballs.
Without any way of safely gathering information, Virmir just stood there, ready for another toss of a fireball, waiting on some sort of response.
It took longer than he would have liked, but eventually his target began climbing the pile. There were dark green scales – how typically draconic. But the scales didn’t form the shape of a draconic head. It was much more traditionally reptilian, without the sharper edges and raised cranium of a fire-breather. The head was slim and streamlined, going down to a neck that flowed right into the rest of the slim body. However, unlike what he thought the creature might now turn out to be, it possessed arms, and four of them, at that. Each of them were used to ascend in turn until the snake-thing lifted itself atop the hill, bringing its tail along with it. The very tip of it was decorated with a golden spade, rattling just like another, non-artificial one would.
“You would dare infiltrate a sacred tomb of the pharaohs and attack its guardian servant, chosen by the gods themselves?” it questioned, rattling again. “You would take the precious items of divine royalty?”
Virmir considered his words. “Yes,” he answered. “But it’s not like I came here with the intention of either of those things.”
The snake-monster cackled and shook its tail all around, sending some riches onto the ground, some of them smashing and cracking. “You tell me that a thief does not break and enter with the idea of stealing! Did you come here to admire these ruins, then, and just decide you may as well leave with a souvenir?”
Virmir sighed. “It’s a longer story than that and I don’t need to tell it to you.” Now that the snake was a little more balanced and elevated, it was easy to land a precise hit on its snout and send it tumbling back down with a long hiss.
It was probably time to get going. Vir grabbed a few assorted things up from the ground before spinning around and rushing back, leaving by the same passage he had entered.
The snake-monster was not so ready to let him go. As he neared the exit, he could hear a grunt from far behind him, and turned just in time to see the coiled reptile spring off of the treasure and land on his four arms and tail, right in his path. As it got back up, he missed its head and flung a ball of fire straight at its chest.
This time, it resisted the force. It didn’t seem phased at all. Moving so fast that it blurred, the monster lunged forward, fangs out, and sunk them into Virmir’s leg.
This bite was not anything like any that he had suffered before (usually from unruly upstarts like that “pharaoh king”). The pain was unbearable at first, but it began to fade quickly after. In its place came a numbness. Soon his legs were working completely against him, or rather, just not at all. He crumpled down and had to brace himself with his hands and arms.
With one paw busy keeping him from collapsing entirely flat on the floor, Virmir lifted his free one and readied another blast – but the beast was already on fire. Maybe this thing had some sort of magic resistance that hadn’t toughed it out long enough. Oddly, the monster-snake seemed entirely satisfied with its life, standing still and looking at his bite with pride.
“If you wish to be with these riches so badly, then so you will be.” It slunk down and coiled in on itself, gradually growing smaller and smaller. “I have done my part as guardian to the pharaohs. I pass the debt, and curse…”
And then there was only a belt of ashes, curled up in the vague shape of a snake.
Blast, that was NOT a good thing.
Frantically, Virmir rolled over onto his back and began dressing the bite wound. He could feel that numbness starting to spread. There were a number of things it could do, and although dying was probably the worst one up on the list, he was confident he could stop that if he acted fast. Some scraps of his old cape were good enough to wrap tightly around it as a tourniquet; infection and physical spreading would be the first to stop.
After he tied the cloth tight, he sat up and tried to put his magic to work on curing the venom out of his system, or at least stop its spread. He was woefully inexperienced in applying his magic this way, so he quickly settled on only halting it in his legs. He wasn’t sure if he could manage even that with how numb he was becoming. The whole process was taxing.
Once he was sure he had done the best job he could, he did his best to recover anything that had dropped from his cloak. He swore that he could feel some trace parts of that venom still slipping through him, but he couldn’t do much about it. Loot in hand, he began the slow and trudging process of dragging himself back down the hallway he had come in.
His legs and tail may have been numb, but that didn’t stop his hands from feeling the cold and cracked ground. He did his best to crawl along without slamming his palms down onto anything sharp and painful, but there were still occasional pebbles and sharp edges to avoid after grazing them. The light up ahead from the throne room was promising, at least.
Virmir finally emerged into the fiery light, pulling himself up against a pillar and panting. Upper body strength was not his forte. At least he could take a short break in the lightened room and check his wound again. He didn’t dare take that tourniquet off… but the temptation was there, just to be sure that he was still alright. The numbness was still very strong, and even had a tingling reach up in his sides and his gut. His skin was flaking and losing fur around the bite, too. He reached nervously to feel at his dressing…
And yelped and fell back at seeing a pair of numb, previously unknown arms reaching along with his normal ones.
Fumbling with them under his cloak, he tugged and pulled at them by the forearm, bending them at the elbow, testing their every function. They were connected to him, for sure; he just couldn’t feel through them yet with how the venom was working its way through his body. Carefully, he tried to focus and wrap them around his body and keep them there, out of the way from his working and inspection.
It wasn’t looking too swollen or infected, but it did look red. It was a bit darker lower down. Hesitantly, he reached at the spreading and barely felt over it, careful to not let it spread to his fingers somehow. It felt rough and scratchy.
Sighing and catching his breath, Virmir let those extra arms come free of his cloak and numbly help crawl him across the ground again. If they were going to be there, they should at least be useful, he thought. He tried to not let his legs drag too much against the ground now, worried that he might just be irritating the wound and its spread, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. His back felt like it was giving out when he attempted to lift his lower body off the ground, so he just gave up on that and let it slide about behind him. He would probably be paying for that later, but right now, he had to get out of here as fast as possible in case this was a location-centralized curse… or something. He had no idea how to treat curses. He certainly wouldn’t be able to walk back to the palace in this condition, so he would have to figure something out very, very soon.
He took much longer to traverse the throne room the second time through. Going at a literal agonizing crawl, he brought himself back to the steps in the wall and took another break. His body was surprisingly not as sore as he expected it to be, but he had a nagging feeling that he had less and less movement with his legs the further he moved.
Four-armed, the fox slipped his hands into the steps in the wall and struggled to begin the slow climb back out. Without feeling in his legs, it was going to be nigh-impossible, but he had to give it his all to try and get free. He grabbed the first step, leaving two hands propped there, and lifted up to the next. He kept going, gradually stretching out the whole of his body to reach as high up as he could. He huffed and leaned hard against the spots in the wall without steps, straining his body…
But he heard some sort of pop, and was sent right back down to the bottom of the climb with another batch of clattering and pain.
Thankfully, he wasn’t that high up, and he still couldn’t completely feel all the pain he should have been. Sprawled on his back, he craned his head to look what had caused the odd push.
…those were new. And unfortunate.
Embarrassed and blushing, even though he – or she – wasn’t in the sight of others, the cloak wrapped up tighter around the front to try and cover the pair of bumps that had ruined the climb. It wasn’t fitting quite right, now that it was trying to be brought over a rather hourglassy body. Her hips were incredibly large now, but they weren’t even properly fluffy. They were thick with more of that red, flaky hardness that she had thought was just the wound at first. By now, it was covering everything below her waist. In its wake, it had even “consumed” her tail, feet, and the space between her legs, bringing it all together in one scaled and speckled limb.
She was so close to getting out, though! She grumbled as she tried to force the extrusions on her chest to go back in, finding no way of getting that to work. With that and her lack of legs and feet, she had no way of escape.
Well… that wasn’t true. She had seen that infectious monster coil and spring a huge distance only minutes before. Maybe she could manage something along those lines. Just… only vertically, and a good twenty feet or so.
Even twenty feet didn’t seem like too much right now. She felt much bigger, taller, wider, and stronger over all, especially with a whole four arms to make up for her other missing limbs. Maybe it was possible.
With a great deal of focus, and her best attempt at infusing some magic into her “jump,” Virmir leapt up and out of the underground ruins, grasping at the stone at the top for a spot to hold to. She dug her claws, which felt suspiciously longer, into whatever she could, and brought the rest of her body up and out with her.
Natural light had never felt so good. Her tail felt radiant in the sand with the sun pouring down on her. The heat was so much more bearable, and the sand couldn’t bother her lower body in the slightest, which was slowly losing the effects of the venom… some of them, anyway. The tail certainly wasn’t changing.
She allowed herself to pant again after more exertion and finally working her way free of the ruins, finding that her jaw stretched much, much wider, with an accompanying longer, thinner tongue that forked at the tip, as well as some sharp, hollow fangs occupying the spots of her former canines. That could make eating her typical diet much more difficult, but she was already feeling hungry for more savory things...
Bleh. She could deal with the repercussions of her trek down under the sands later. First she had to get back with her loot.
