Breathe... breathe... just keep breathing...
The Emissarion is finally back in my hands... and I can update you who desire the unveiling of his story as much as I do... It is a dull and dreary account of fear and primitive views. Truly, though invited here, I am a prisoner.
27th of Othen, 2734
The doors had opened, the stench of the underground wafting into my face. A kind of dull waste and burnt smell. Immediately thoughts of the miners and calloused workers flooded my mind. I could see the blacksmiths hammering on their anvils, the miners smashing the rock (not that I could actually see this, but the smell was so telling...). Their lights were out... no flames burned behind the doors. I stared into a kind of blackness that can only be achieved by magic... who was in front of me? I could not know. The doors swung open not much more than 5 feet wide, thought they are a full 70 feet in breadth. It beckoned me forward.
I remained silent, letting the smell and the blackness to process in my mind. I am, after all, a thinker. Knowing that my nose and eyes had done all they could do, I opened my ears. Straining to hear anything in the deep darkness of the Dwarven City's caverns. And at once it hit me... villages around these areas speak of the massive amounts of notice they can hear from the city, even through the mountain. What could cause this endless and devouring silence before me? Sure, I could hear nothing... but breathing.
Ragged, rough, angry breathing. The emissions of sound were steady, much like a bull waiting to charge. It could not have been one dwarf, it was much to loud... were they breathing as one? At the same moment exhaling all their guile towards me? It must have been a full minute before I counted 5 inhales... that sickening slow pace... that deep dark presence. My other senses reacted, bringing a vomiting taste to my mouth and a shiver across my shoulders. Denying myself, I attempted to speak...
"Greetings..." I spoke with the greatest desire to please... The response was deep, brooding, and singular.
"Enter."
There were no options at this point. walk away, or enter into the city. That city, which held the secrets. Secretes to the dwarves, the ancient times.. and him.
I entered the darkness.
Immediately as I was cast in shadow, I felt a great paw at my throat. Massive hands, the size of my head, and wrapped all the way around my throat. A single thumbnail pressed into the bottom of my jaw, beckoning me not to cry out. As I groped about with my hands, I grabbed onto the arm that had me bound and found a blanket of fur covering it. I could not even reach the skin of whatever had me... It's arms were the size of my body, I was like trying to grapple with a tree. I could not struggle for long, and finally went slack. My breathing, though impaired, was consistent and I waited to see what I might see, for darkness engulfed us completely. Slowly, with horror, I watches as the doors behind me, which so blatantly defied the light to intrude, closed.
The tree-sized being stripped me of my things. Including the Emissarion. I felt myself lift off of the ground and start moving. He had a hand gripping me around the waist, and one still around my neck. It was the most uncomfortable ride I have ever experienced.
Five minutes, and we arrived where it was that we were. I felt myself flung onto a stone floor. My knees made horrid contact with the floor. I remember thinking that if this kind of event kept up, there would be nothing left of my legs but a dissolving hope. The voice instructed me once more, this time, much more booming and profusely terrifying,
"We will examine the orb first. Do not speak."
With that damning command, the presence left me, and I heard a loud creak before the slamming of a metal door. Behind me, a torch lit of it's own volition. And the small six by six foot cell was revealed to me. A stone for sleeping on, a hole for... bodily functions, and a steel door with a small slat in it were all there was. I lay on the floor, rubbing my knees and not daring to speak.
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