Most people would avoid wandering into the depths of a dark, foreboding cave. Especially on a night such as this, where the pale face of the moon leered dimly through the thin blanket of dark clouds that covered the night sky. Be it through mere superstition or the fear of wondering into the den of a bear, or something worse. But Shazar Talaudrym was not most people.
A traveler and adventurous sort he always embraced the chance to search for treasure or other valuables that might be lost within a decrepit ruin or other place. Such as a brooding cave tucked away within a small grove of trees, emanating a foul aurora that would drive many a man away. Gnarled stalactites at the mouth of the cave were shaped like the craggy misshapen teeth of a roaring monster, the sound of a low wind circulating within resembled a haunting moan.
Unwavering and determined, Shazar Talaudrym entered the cave. Not knowing what lay ahead but willing to brave any possible danger.
Unbeknown to Shazar this cave was in fact occupied, a lair for one so reclusive. He was not the first to have found it as he was not the first to dare to wander inside hoping to find something of value. Those before instead finding only their doom, their bones, rusted weapons, and broken shards of armor littered the stone floor inside.
A trail of the deceased seemed to lead down the narrow entrance into a small antechamber. Small piles of skulls were tucked in the corners, scattered remains and discarded equipment lay about. All that was left of what were once daring knights and dashing rogues full of pride and purpose. A foul stench filled the air, a combination of must, mold, and decay. The moan of the gliding breeze maintained as a thin fog skirted the corners and ceiling. Torches lined the cave wall, billowing about illuminating the cave with a golden light.
”Well, well…” a voice broke through the echo of the breeze, ”what have we here?”
A thin shadow etched around a nearby corner, painted along the wall by a nearby torchlight. ”It seems I have a visitor. It’s certainly been a while.” A cracked, jawless skull came bouncing across the hard floor, kicked from around the corner. ”It’s always lovely when fresh meat walks through my front door.” It was a woman’s voice, low and hoarse.
The voice’s owner turned the corner now fully visible in the torchlight. A Drow woman, thin and short like most of their kind. Her skin a deep ash gray, her flowing hair as white as snow. She was dressed in rather revealing robes with thigh high boots and a flowing black cape, her shoulders and arms covered by very thin pads and gauntlets better suited as clothing than proper armor. In her left hand she carried a long staff of carved bones, most looked to be human or the like.
A wry smirk etched at her mouth as she eyed the stranger who had wondered into her lair. “Well, aren’t you the strapping specimen? Tell me; did no one ever tell it is rude to intrude upon someone’s home?”