13th Day in the Strands
Time had shifted again. Crypt and Arthan now knew instinctively how many days had passed since their entry into the Strands, and this gift (or curse, depending on one’s perspective) was perhaps given to them by some insidious or malevolent God, or (quite possibly) they were being integrated into the Strands, becoming more like Strains; as such, they would gain a better understanding of the Strands.
Either one was not what they preferred, but there was always the reason where Ionu was screwing around with their minds and bodies as he liked out of pure boredom. Not very encouraging.
And now, most of their colour had faded from their bodies and clothes. What was left was their heads and part of their neck, the most vibrant part of their bodies being the eyes. Perhaps that was why people say that the eyes are the windows to a person’s soul? Possibly. It might be the other way round. However, conundrums of philosophy were the last thing from the duo’s minds.
They had found the ring.
There it was, sitting innocently on a raised pedestal. The only object with colour for about a few miles out – if Crypt and Arthan weren’t considered objects -, shining oddly in the eternal moonlight of the Strands.
“Gods be praised, Arthan! There be our desired object!”
Crypt broke into a run towards the pedestal before Arthan could even say something. Picking up the ring, he scrutinised it for any special properties, turning it over and over in his hands. Finding that it was nothing but a gold ring, Crypt shrugged and tossed the ring over to Arthan, who caught it casually out of the air and placed it on his left ring finger.
“You fool, it’s a trap!”
Crypt froze, waiting for his inevitable doom. A minute passed, and nothing happened. Crypt relaxed, but started to channel Djed to his left arm and legs from his right arm. The enhancement would be minor, but it was best to fight with all he had against the Strains.
As he finished channeling the last of the Djed, all hell broke loose.
Traps were activated. Arrows were fired directly at the pedestal, and it was a miracle that Crypt escaped the barrage with scratches on his chest and right cheek. Crypt dodged the next wave of arrows, crouching, and progressed into a roll towards Arthan, who was standing there helplessly, watching Crypt get battered. Unfortunately, fate was not on Crypt’s side that day, and his right shoulder was cut almost to the bone by a human-shaped figure carrying what appeared to be a battle-axe that cast a shadow over him. Crypt cried out, having felt the extreme pain his wound caused, but managed to dodge the next blow of the Strain by performing a clumsy side-step.
Crypt took out Arthan’s waterskin, and splashed some water over the Strain. Reaching down with his left hand, he picked up as much sand as he could and threw it at his foe. The sand adhered to the wet surfaces of the Strain, and provided Crypt a clearer view of the battle-axe wielding Strain, and which gave away his position.
CONCENTRATE, Crypt. Force the Djed to remain there, you’ll need it. Remember, pain will COME LATER. Don’t focus on it, focus on defeating your enemy.
The Drykas swept the battle-axe coming towards him to one side with the flat of his blade, then dashed towards the Strain’s body,aiming a kick at his chest. The Strain raised one sand-covered arm and pushed his kick aside, forcing Crypt back a few feet. Crypt got up from where he had landed on the sands, and the Strain was right on top of him, raising his arms for another devastating blow.
Crypt had no option but to block. Knowing that it would strain his muscles terribly, Crypt sent even more Djed to his left arm frantically, calling on more from the other parts of his body. The blades met, and Crypt’s arm shook terribly, struggling to resist the immense force that was going against.
In his pain-clouded mind, a flash of inspiration smashed through everything that was occupying Crypt’s attention, and Crypt smirked.
Allowing the Djed to dissipate back, Crypt stopped resisting the battle-axe, and allowed it to fall to his right side as he moved swiftly away from the death-dealing blade. The Strain had left itself open, and Crypt took advantage of it. He swung back his longsword with his left arm, aiming carefully, and stabbed it clean through the left side of the Strain.
As silent as it had been in what mockery of life it had, it was silent in death. The Strain crumpled to the sandy ground with nary a whisper, grey fluid draining from his wound. Crypt sank to his knees, gasping for breath as his body protested at the efforts he had gone through in the period of time spent fighting. Groaning, Crypt managed to force his body into a kneeling position.
Arthan was already by his side, tearing a part of his own cloak to create a make-shift bandage, which he then wrapped around the deep gash in Crypt’s right shoulder tightly, attempting to prevent more loss of blood. Crypt stifled any exclamations of pain by biting into the fabric of his gloves, restraining himself from giving a loud howl of pain as Arthan speedily completed his operation.
Once he was done, Crypt sank to the ground, exhausted. He could feel his pulse in his ears and head, every heartbeat that sent blood rushing through his blood vessels. A pounding headache had developed, and applying liberal amounts of pressure with his hands was the only way to alleviate it slightly.
“Crypt. Let’s go. Crypt? I see the portal. It’s quite close. Come on, you big useless lump. It’s only about five minutes away. I can see it from here. Crypt? Gods damn you, let’s go!”
With one final outburst, Arthan shook Crypt’s shoulders violently, trying to wake him from his stupor. It did nothing, and Crypt continued to lie on the sands, still breathing rapidly.
And then the whispers came again.
Come to us, you are almost one of us. Come, come, come…
Arthan cursed. It seemed that he had no choice.
At least the rules that bind me never mentioned about giving Crypt here a hand. This should be easy enough, I’ve done this quite a few times. But I musn’t use too much Djed, or else my life will be forfeit even as we escape the Strands.
Taking a deep breath, Arthas released it and lifted up Crypt’s body, placing him on his back, before tapping certain areas with both hands after ensuring that Crypt would not fall.
Arthan let out a small groan, and eight protusions of bone, four on each side of Crypt, grew swiftly on his back. They encased Crypt in a partial cocoon, ensuring that he would not fall. The broad-shouldered man started moving as quickly as he could towards the shimmering portal, which appeared to be slowly diminishing in size. However, he could only jog towards it, for the added weight was slowing him down.
He would be able to make it to the portal in time, but it would be close.
Unfortunately, several events occurred that, together, would place Crypt in danger.
The first event was that his feet were beginning to sink into the sands even more than before, thus slowing him down. The second was that a fast Strain caught up with him. The third was that the bone protusions were only strong enough to hold Crypt in, and as such they could be cut through easily, which the Strain did so with its sharp weapon. Crypt fell to the ground just as Arthas reached the portal.
By then, Crypt was almost devoid of all colour, and was beginning to see the Strains with his own eyes. He slowly got to his feet, and threw himself at the Strains, slashing wildly with his longsword in a last-ditch attempt, knowing that his life was almost forfeit, and was determined to rid Alvadas of as many of the Strains as possible.
However, the Strands would not claim him, and neither would Dira, that day.
A massive hand reached out and plucked Crypt, as neatly as one would take an apple from a tree, out of the mass of Strains and brought him back through the portal into the Streets Below.
The last thing Crypt would see before falling unconscious was a blurred face looking over him, somehow emanating motherly goodness and a calm serenity.
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by Crypt on November 6th, 2012, 12:30 pm 
