Heleion Archives

18^th of April, 1124 ASC. Ruined City of Grindullion, Arnarhvall Heimrad.

            Once a sprawling city in the center most heimrad of the Kingdom of Naireanth, Grindullion sat on the western bank of the Igmuillire River which flowed directly into one of the fissures leading down to the Deep Lands. Its ruined walls to this day stood with decrepit pride, circling around the city and separating it into myriads of haunting districts infested with monsters and undead.

It was estimated to had a population in the several hundreds of thousands who mostly earned their bread with hunting in the nearby forests, fished in the river and the lake which deepened into the land below, and many famous mythical warriors of the past Naireanth hailed from this city. Their statues still stood in the center of squares, in the empty halls of what today were referred as guild halls, and even temples to the Gods. Though most of their features were lost to the ravages of history, to cults whose masters may have been banished by said heroes, and by the hateful, baleful undead.

For the most part, the city was still empty of life – except for the rare group who decided to unearth artifacts, baubles left here on the day the Stygian Hordes descended onto the city, and ravaged it, massacring its population and in their wicked humor, raised them to walk these streets and strike down those who would wish to return this city into its past glory.

The Kanque Guild – a group of likeminded explorers of the Basin – were one such group who wished to study the city, the empty homes which were still littered with the belongings of its cursed owners. They wished to learn how they lived, they wished to learn their daily routines and map out the city so that they could return with the aid of the Royal Family to free the city and its accursed citizens.

Currently though, they could only enlist the aid of the Sisterhood of the Black Rose, whose leader spent many good years within the walls of the city and regretted allowing the Stygian Hordes to raze it and use it as their playground. While she did not speak of it, Freianna herself was here the day before the Stygian Hordes appeared through their infernal portals and that fact haunted her since than as she had to leave for the protection of another city.

So the moment the flier of the Kanque Guild were brought to her attention, she offered her generous aid in the form of a dozen group of Black Roses who currently stalked the most dangerous parts of the ruined city, hunting down the walking dead, clearing out the dens of monsters like northern goblins, ogres and various other beasts who may or may not have migrated up from the nearby fissure.

**

Among these dozen Black Roses was Ingirinar. A solfrith vholavhin of the Sisterhood whose elven beauty was amplified even more so by the blessing of Freianna. Short, neatly trimmed raven black hair adorned her head, sculpted with refined curves with the ends of her hair remaining the once, intense copper red shade.

Elongated, graceful eyes occupied by raging, fiery storms of golden while her arched brows were drawn with the greatest care. Her lips soft and gleaming while covered in a maroon lipstick which amplified their natural luster pairing well with her smooth, fair golden skin evoking a sense of warmth in all those who gazed upon her.

Unlike her most of her fellow vholavhin Sisters, her delicate body was clad in a suit of elvish measures, frames and concaves which encompassed her whole body with the exception of her feet and hands, which in the latter’s case hid in the embrace of a moderately high heeled boot that reached up to her knee while tightly wrapped onto the suit.

On the uppermost side, two enormous triangular arches rose with a slit opening at the center, shrouding her golden neck in a snow silvery glow of the satin lining. Which itself seemingly melded in with her aelfrahd satin tunic which neck rose in equal heights as the suits’, they even molded onto the triangular arches while they continued on forming into a thin cloak – once more just like the suits’.

A tight drouvhen leather bodice also tightened her already delicate form while fixing her posture into an eternal straightness giving her an air of elegance as she walked alone amongst the deserted streets. A legion of straps decorated the chest area, each held her necessary potions and scrolls that came in handy.

The amber hues of the spring sun shone onto her enchanting, mature elven face as she stopped at a decrepit building with four floors. For a while she contemplated to return to the camp at the bank of the river, but instead decided to at least investigate the first floor of the once guild house as she concluded from the heroic statue in the center of the vast hall.

The statue itself was the sculpted out form of a hulking dragonkin with the tail and one of its hulking arm pointed down at his back broken off while the rest were adorned with cracks and a few remaining hewn scales.

Her eyes focused onto the bones which all were eerily collected in a circle, with not a single piece of the mosaic that was a skeleton were missing. Some even clearly had leathery armor on them. Their warped scream echoed through the silent hall, as golden flames appeared on their graying bones which in a matter of seconds turned to smoldering ash, while the few armor pieces melted into stinking puddles.

On the counter, her attention was drawn towards finely chopped wooden plaque which seemed to have a blank mirror surface with ink splashed onto it. As soon as Ingirinar touched, the ink came to life and separated across the surface and formed into archaic glyphs that spelled out her name, the number of arcane points and the approximate amount of mana flowing within her soul.

With a sigh she put it down and looked around, mostly stopping here and there as her gaze moved past elaborately patterned spiderwebs occupying the corners and joints of beams that held the loft in its place. From a closer look, she could tell it was sewn by not the common, oversized spiders whom inhabited the dark lands of the land below, but something more that was crafted by her dark kin in the ages before they escaped the cruel clutches of their former dark patrons.

**

By the time she returned and reported on the possible presence of an Arachne – a spider monster with the upper body of an anthropomorph kin grafted onto the head of the spider – darkness shrouded the haunted city and its bank. Their only light sources were the campfires surrounded by the enchanted tents, and the torches planted firmly into the ground.

After her early dinner she was posted on patrol duty around the eastern side of their camp, near the ships that brought them to the ruined city. Ingirinar watched the stars pass by in the night sky with a relaxed expression which quickly shifted into a calmly paranoid one at the shush of trees and bushes.

Thanks to her draconic heritage, her gaze could easily pierce through the thickest of darkness and far beyond the bushes, near some ruined homesteads, she spotted the naked figure blessed with ample breasts with extraordinarily long silken threads for hair that coursed down her exposed torso. Even from the wide distance between them, she could make out her ruby red pupils with eight more carefully arranged within each, circling within their wide boundary.

Ingirinar stood still at the bank, let the water gently splash onto her leathery boots before she decided on the best move to make. Her honeyed scent spread in a straight line towards the Arachne, and the corners of her scarlet lips curved up slightly. But just as quickly fell back when the creature instead of heading towards her with longing steps, retreated suddenly into one of the homesteads.

Knowing that she had hours before the shift change, she decided to abandon her post and head towards the home to quickly end the cursed existence before it would become bold enough to disturb the camps’ peace.

After hovering above the small forest between the camp and the abandoned homesteads, she pulled out a vial of mana potion from one of the many straps and gulped a quarter down before she entered the same homestead the Arachne did.

As soon as she stepped in, a decaying axe held by a web covered dried, yet moving husk headed towards her neck. It stopped midair, an oval thread spread, widened then lessened akin to when a drop of rain falls onto the surface of a lake upon impact. And in the next moment, golden flames devoured the possibly eons old draugr within seconds. Ingirinar sighed as she realized the ones scouring the bank missed this homestead while cleansing the area.

She continued her way further into the house, following the trail of webs that covered the walls and doorways where it was brutally torn apart. With each graceful movement, she evaded the flailing ends of the webs and finally reached the cellar hatch which she yawned open by itself – by her silent command.

Down in the dark, she arrived in what resembled more of a vast cavern entrance than a cellar, adorned with the mummified forms that hanged on the walls, emitting soft muffled moans. She recalled that they weren’t the first in the city in the past decade, and remembered that Arachne web have magical properties that keep the victim fresh and alive until consumption. It also drained the victim of their stamina and mana, negating any and all chance of escape except for external aid.

She left them behind, headed towards the expanded maw which led further in a seemingly straight path – until she started taking turn after turn. Along the way she found more and more victims of the Arachne, these ones now remained still and silent compared to the ones closer and directly at the entrance.

At the entry to the lair, she stopped and watched as the oversized children of the Arachne fed on her victims, slurping out the liquified remains of those within the tight embrace of her silken web. The two nearest her died as strange crystalline spikes of amber hue protruded through their chitin, dripping their dark greenish ichor onto the floor.

The Arachne remained calm even as more and more of her children rushed at Ingirinar who amidst massacring them in various ways, gulped down another of her mana vials before she stopped in a preferrable distance from the Arachne who towered over her with a calm, almost dreamy expression on her enchanting albino face. As she took a better look, she also noticed the elongated ears with not quite, but close enough elvish contours. And a snow silvery medallion that hanged above her ample breasts.

A small legion of swirling flame spheres barraged the Arachne who stood still, uncaring as each sphere exploded with a thunderous roar, enveloping around her large body. Yet as the flames died down, she stood unharmed to the surprise of Ingirinar who cliqued her tongue.

Her palm moved up as her mana channeled into it, but before she could send the next wave of brute forced attacks, the thick, silken web enveloped both her fists, and a third splashed onto her lips and cheeks. A muffled grunt followed as she fell onto the ground while web appeared out of thin air, swiftly wrapping her body before bringing her closer to the now victoriously smiling Arachne.

Her curses turned into muffled groans as the web covered her eyes and head, not leaving a single thread of her hair from peeking out. Yet all through this Ingirinar remained calm, knowing that her Sisters will surely notice her absence – and already accepted the penalty that will await her after they return from this cursed city.

But even she did not expect what came next. Dark, eerie glyphs shone on the silvery white surface of the web that bound her and she felt an indescribable pain as if her own soul was torn to shreds. She felt her clothes, her body turn into a liquid state and not long after she joined her lost Sisters in the Prismatic Garden of Myelia while the Arachne slurped out the mixed juice that was once Ingirinar.

Not long after, she screamed at the ceiling as a primal pain assaulted her being. Her spider legs gave in and she fell down onto her stomach while clutching her head. Her pale, ghostly skin gained a warmer tint, her hair turned darker with a few streaks remaining white while her crimson eyes turned into a mauve shade.

She felt her arcana points and veins burn as inscriptions wrapped around her soul, and her half-elvish torso slid out from the head of the spider enveloped in the dark transparent mucus. Then the pain came to a sudden halt and she opened her eyes while slowly getting up from the ground. For a few moments, she stared at her frail, shaking hands while tears poured out from her eyes. She carefully inspected her body and noticed how much smoother her skin became with its newly gained warm tint, her ears now properly resembled an elves, and her eyes gained graceful, refined contours that gave her an air of enigmatic exquisiteness.

“Finally.” She exhaled with a shivering voice while strange energies gathered around her body and took the shape of an unremarkable robe of snow white hue. By the time Ingirinar’s Sisters found the lair, they found no sign of the once Arachne, once former Ur-Vholavh of Grindullion.