Today’s snippet, titled “All That Lays Ahead”, is a piece I wrote about my current character, Mim, to sort of demonstrate her experiences with a major in-game event.
      Be forewarned, there are mature themes and naughty language below.
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      Beveled edges swooped in graceful sworls; gleaming silver embossed upon a glorious blue as clean and true as the skies over Port Helios.
      She scratched her thumbnail upon a discreet section of the color steel. No mere enamel work this, it was worked into the metal – some technique Mim had never seen before. With reluctance, she collected each piece, inventorying the suit. Every component was accounted for and, aside from some bloodspatter so old as to have gone black, was in perfect condition.
      As she stripped off the ruined bits of her trusty old adamantine platemail, Mim felt a twinge of nostalgia. She had joined the Brother of the Broken Chain in a set of fine, yet mundane chainmail. Well, technically, she had joined it disarmed and de-armored by their captors, but they had reacquired their pilfered belongings before long. Still, since their work in the battle-scarred city of Autumnfell, where the armorer had shared her bed and outfitted her in that plain, dark plate, those thick pieces of all-but-indestructible metal had shielded her and helped her protect her allies.
      Anajalihn had warded it with her own hands on three occasions and Eric had offered suggestions for improving the pauldrons. Kenzi had poked fun at her for being so heavily armored, but never complained when the suit ate sword hits that could have otherwise crippled the rogue. Tuanar had magicked it clean and changed the color a time or two and Stoney had once expressed interest in acquiring a similar set. Grue had joked that he could grapple her twice as easily despite the armor and Durgan had been inexplicably good at helping her in and out of it.
      The smooth, utilitarian planes held a string of memories; each scratch and dent had a story to tell. Her blood, sweat and tears had christened the damnable suit a hundred times over. After all this time, all these battles – Mim closed her eyes, laying her palm against the cool breastplate – the armor was a part of her.
      Her heart was heavy as she collected the bits together. It was broken now; rusted away in the blink of an eye by those hideous creatures.
      “Lucky those dragons killed some wealthy warrior once upon a time, eh?”
      Mim looked over at Eric and nodded. “Lucky.”
      Standing there in her padded underclothes, laces cinched and ready to don the new suit, Mim found that she could not will herself to pick up those beautiful gleaming pieces.
      “Mim!” Kenzi’s voice called from the previous room, where the rest of the Brotherhood was searching for traps and booty. “Shake a leg, would ya? I think I got this lock open and I smell shinies!”
      She chuckled wryly and looked down at the armor again. “Shiny. For sure.”
      Donning the new armor was a queerly exciting experience Mim would be hard pressed to explain. Each piece was enchanted and as she fastened it on, it seemed to resculpt itself to her form. There was no way the suit had been originally created for someone of her proportions – tall and thick with muscle, yet abundantly curved both above and below the waist – but as she stood there, fully encased in the enchanted steel, it fit as well as a hand-tailored sheath-style gown.
      “Mim,” Eric said, his voice low.
      “Right?”
      “Right.”
      Mim let a smile cross her lips, enjoying the sensation for just one self-indulgent moment. “I don’t feel worthy. This armor must have belonged to someone so powerful and-”
      “And good.”
      “A paladin, maybe. Or-”
      Eric hefted his shield up and nodded his head toward the door. “Maybe you can have it scryed or something when we get out of here. Come, Mim, the others are waiting.”
      Nodding, she followed him to rejoin their comrades. Although Tuanar had fallen, they had picked up an elvish woman with the power to heal. With Azielle and Trick rounding out their numbers, they were once again at full strength.
      Sort of…
      “Wait, almost got it,” Kenzi muttered, kneeling before the lock.
      Mim readied her sword, absurdly grateful that it had not been destroyed by those Rust Monsters, and closed her eyes just in case.
      It had not been but a few hours since Trick had rejoined them as they escaped the moving statue in the entry hall, easily dodging the things swinging fists. They had found themselves in a stonework corridor which roared with unnerving silence. When Kenzi opened that door, Mim had come face-to-face with horrific serpentine bitches and nearly lost her mind to their malevolent gazes.
      Despite her own heroics, Kenzi had fallen prey to them and been turned to stone. Fortunately, Anajalihn had been able to reverse the spell but not without great cost to her tactical abilities. Mim hoped, selfishly, that it would not be their downfall. Then again, without Kenzi’s skills, they may never reach Mazul at all.
      “Fuck yes!” Kenzi whipped her hair back, standing. “Got it. You wanna open it, Mim?”
      “Always,” she said, stepping up to the door. “Think there’ll be more of those card-playing bastards in here?”
      “Better them than another of those bloody dead dragons.”
      “True enough,” Mim said. “Though we could stand another horde of shinies like that.”
      Anajalihn cleared her throat. “Enough banter, please ladies. Let us proceed, shall we?”
      Mim opened the door and blinked.
      “This isn’t what I expected,” she muttered, taking a single step in.
      The room was well appointed; a four-poster bed with exquisite hangings and fine artwork on the walls. There were skeletal remains clutching a large sword in a plush winged chair, but otherwise, it seemed unoccupied. Mim stepped closer to the bed, frowning.
      Are those…? Squinting, she ran her finger against the fine, hardwood of the footboard. Waukeen’s Golden Scales, they are! These fuckers didn’t worship Sharess, this looks more like.. Loviatar…
      The posts were deeply scarred by bindings; it was impossible to know how many people had been bound to this bed and violated, but something about the depth of the wounds in the wood made her think that it was a great number. Worse were the linens themselves. While of the highest quality, they were alive with a series of erotic scenes. Erotic was the wrong word for it – for though they were pornographic in nature, the nature of the sex being perpetrated was violent and loveless.
      “What kind of twisted fu-” she started to ask. Her question was cut off as the skeleton sprang to life – unlife – and swung its ancient blade with all the alacrity of one still living.
      Azielle’s voice rang out in Celestial and though Mim had been spelled to understand it, somehow she could not make out anything but magic and vengeance in the golden tones. A blaze of light burst forth and enveloped the abomination. She counted one, two heartbeats and then their foe exploded into dust, consumed by the holy power of Azielle’s deity.
      “Damn.”
      Kenzi immediately set to searching the room for traps. Her keen eyes found a safe secreted behind the beautiful painting on the west wall. Mim wanted to drive her blade through the canvas however, when she drew close enough to see that that forest scene was less pastoral and more… demons hunting and slaying humans.
      “Oh ew, what- Is that- Are these…?”
      Anajalihn nodded, accepting an armful of books. “Oh yes, it appears that these are Spellbooks covered in flesh. Probably human, although… I suppose it could be elven. They-”
      Mim shuddered. Sounds like the kind of spells Grandfather would appreciate…
      “Look at all that coin,” Trick said, smirking. “Finally.”
      “We don’t have time to count it now, let’s just get it in a sack and move on. There’s another room next door.”
      The second room had probably belonged to a mage’s apprentice or apprentices. It was strewn with tattered clothes and junk, the appointments were of lesser quality and although Kenzi found two additional spellbooks, a matched pair of blood red stones and an exquisite dagger on a sapphire-studded belt, there was nothing else of use or interest in it.
      Mim left the others sifting the coins and gems into sacks and returned to the main room.
      There was only exit left. There was only one path available to them.
      She lay her hand upon the central column, leaning in to peer up the spiralling staircase. Despite the light emanating from the stone around her neck, she could see nothing.
      All that lay ahead was darkness.
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Note: Featured Image, “spiral 1”, by Ayla87 from SXC.hu