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The Summoning Chamber
by Cordir

Summoning Chamber
[Exits: east]
This room is rather spartan except for the strange glyphs and wards drawn
upon the portal, floors, walls and ceilings. The mystic runes seem to be
made to imprison a summoned creature and contain them here indefinitely.

* * * *

My makers knew not what they wrought. Ignorant fools; that their goal was met was all that mattered. The spells of entrapment and binding functioned perfectly within the boundaries of the chamber as planned. They did not think to wonder at the ease with which the lines of power were laid.

Eagerly, I waited until the last glyph was inscribed; every surface was bound, and I became one with my home, born at last. It was that moment my thirst began. Greater than that of any addict of the halfling’s leaf or that of the crazed vampires of Sanguinna, I ache for that which fulfills me – souls. Their butterfly caress as they escape pain filled mortal flesh is to me as exquisite and delectable as the finest wine is to a snobbish Cillidellian connoisseur.

Murderers think me a tool, or a means an easy mark. It is I that use them, for without their clumsy efforts, I would starve. None have seen my glyphs and sigils brighten, pulse, and grow as I devour that brief, fleeing morsel before spirit rejoins newborn flesh in some distant, filthy holy place anathema to my kind.

I have drunk deeply of puritans, sinners, amazons, whores, paladins, priests, witches and even a queen. I remember each perfectly, like it was but a moment ago. Every emotion adds its own piquant flavor, but it is the sour tang of betrayal I love best.

Footsteps, stealthy and soft, grow steadily closer and a cloaked figure slips within my boundaries, locking the door with the sole key held by the head researcher that caused me to be built. Whispered spells cloak the intruder with protections, and his weapons rise, held at the ready as he waits for the moment his mage-friend will sorcerously drag prey into my enclosing web-like embrace… and my thirst surges. It is I who am the spider, and they merely unwitting servants who supply me with flies.

With a loud crash of thunder and the scent of brimstone, a portal opens. Friend reveals themselves to be foe, the two cohorts turn upon the third, and I eagerly await the feast to come…

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