A small cricking noise caught Henri's attention, snapping his eyes around about the room looking for it's source. It sounded very much like stone, like pebbles breaking and falling, and the whole room was made of the stuff. For a moment, he was scared the ruins were caving in on them.

Then there was a louder snap, causing him to make a small twitch with a start. The cause of the sound was inches away from him. It was the statue, not crumbling apart but coming to life.

Before the statue stood a young human man, sweaty and disorganized, dusty and dirty from walking through the ruins. The flames of his torch danced off his terrified and amazed expression, lighting up every droplet of sweat from exertion and anxiety on his face. He carried with him a bag of supplies and a rope, beneath his shirt was a sort of knife dagger.

Not that it mattered when your potential opponent was made of stone. With that in mind, Henri tried not to scream or offend the being, although his voice was quivering noticeably. The most disturbing thing (other than that the thing was alive) were it's eyes. Over the years Henri had imagined many beings and creatures up, but nothing with eyes like these.

"New civilizations new technologies! Magic! Think of all the things we could discover that would change the world forever!"


"Uh...ahem uh. H-hello?" He greeted the stone man with the bleeding poisonous gaze meekly.

Henri received no such response, neither kindness nor courtesy. Instead, the being stood, slowly. A crack filled the hollow every time it moved. He moved. Joints gave way to smoldering rubble under the due course of an oily darkness drooping upon the old floor in slurching plops. It came from beneath the stone, the oil that covered skin, or perhaps the oil that was once skin. It all slithered from between cracks in the stone, all gained from the smallest of movements. Simply moving its hand let ounces of darkness fall from the cracks in the joints and collect upon the floor in a glop.

In seconds, the once pristine stone was covered in cracks, all bleeding the same blackness that continued to collect at the statue's pedestal. It was rising, moving, and twitching, coming to life before Henri's eyes.

His hands. His hands were the first to move in excess, followed soon by his arms, as encrusted limbs snapped and pressed forward, reaching for something. For someone. For Henri. For his throat.

The stone figure seemed to be cracking, shedding it's stone shell in favour of a more diabolical skin that seeped and oozed through the crevices as if it were bleeding black blood from it's granite wounds.

"Uh uh uh...uh er..." Henri wasn't sure what to make of it until the creature reached his hands out in a gesture that was a little less than a polite handshake. The creature's hands wouldn't find his throat however, because Henri was already making a mad dash for the crystal, shrieking in such a piercing high trill that he could have very well bring the whole system of ruins crashing down in an avalance.

"AAAAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!!"

Another crack, yet lower this time, however silenced, or defended, by Henri's cry, rang through the ruins. Henri moved, through himself forward in a mad dash for the crystal. He would find himself grounded before it, though. Ripped from his feet and cast to the floor ofthe ruins in one fell swoop.

There was a hand on his leg, an oil and grey hand wrapped about his calf, low and close to his ankle, gripping tight and pulling back ...

One look back for Henri would prove the unsettling. The statue was collapsed upon the ruin floor, laying with its feet still pitifully attached to its base, hand outstretched and grasping and coating Henri's calf with a sickening slick. It was strong, though. Unnervingly so. Strong, and difficult to break free of ...

Henri outstretched his hands and tried to reach for the crystal with the tips of his fingers, but his progress ground to a painful halt and crash onto the ground. He couldn't move forward any longer, there was a crushing grip on his leg. The creatures hand had him, and it's hideous face wasn't too far behind.

"ROLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND!"

Writhing and wiggling madly wasn't enough to free him from the beasts grasp, and the beast was drawing him closer and closer.

"FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!"

His knife! In a panic he reached for his knife and began swinging at the creature, hoping to chop it's arm clean off to free himself or at least scratch him up enough to free himself.

The fallen statue was unmoved by Henri's cries. It continued to pull itself forward, using a grip it had upon Henri's leg, trying to drag itself up and at Henri ...

When Henri withdrew his knife and starting cutting wildly, the creature had all but reached Henri's gut with its left hand, which now looked relatively clawed, but in a natural way, as if the oil slick over its bones had receded enough at the tips of its fingers that the black and edged bones beneath could be seen, pointed down at Henri, down at his stomach, threatening to pierce his flesh with a single downward stab. It was at this point that Henri started to swing, collided knife with bone and knocked a hand loose. Oily blackness slopped upon Henri's gut and the floor all around him, splattering with a cracked wrist.

Instead of stabbing down, it would attempt to beat its gnarled hand upon Henri's diaphragm and continue to claw its way up his body, ever closer to the eyes it met just moments earlier ...

Why wasn't Roland coming to him, couldn't he hear him scream for help? The creature had him by the foot, and was going to eviscerate him. He was going to die alone and abandoned miles beneath the dirt, slowly, piece by piece.

At this point Henri began to cry, sadness, panic, fear? A slew of negative emotions pumped through his veins, along with a certainty that he was going to die. Not without trying though, he absolutely had to try.

"HEHEHEEEEEELP!!!!"

Henri swung his knife again, this time with more purpose, trying to release himself from the thing's grip by damaging or plain old removing his hand before he was bludgeoned to death with the stump he left behind. Clearly, the monster didn't need hands to kick his ass. He just needed for it to let him go so he could run away like a bitch.

Following another blow to Henri's ribcage, Henri lashed out once more, smacked his knife across and into the stump of a hand that remained, expelling a foul smelling oil from a snapped wrist that, upon hitting Henri's face, would feel acidic in nature, producing a horrid burning sensation, as if his skin had suddenly lit aflame.

But the fallen statue still had its other, usable hand, one now up amd close to Henri's throat, ready and actively reaching to grab and choke the life out of the young man.

And in his wild flailing, the back of Henri's hand struck the crystal just above him ...

Contact with the crystal was followed by a small chime and, soon after that, the sound of an irregular throb, like a heart just off-beat, and then the chamber, heavy and sticky with humidity, begin to return to normal. There was no crystal, no statue, no slick and pitch-black oil stains, and even the carvings on the wall, as intricate as they were, seemed to lack the same ‘life’ that they had just minutes before.

All that was left in the room was the pillars and the small pedestal that the crystal had been floating a fraction of inch above, and, of course, a disheveled, possibly very confused Henri Bernard.

In random pulses, there was also the sound that had accompanied the chime from before and it seemed to originate from just on top of Henri. A short investigation and Henri would be able to discern its location: The flesh just below his below his knuckles, where he had struck the crystal by accident, seemed swollen and the skin, rising and lowering on its own, was emitting the sound.

And then it faded altogether.





There were footsteps coming from down the hall that lead to the chamber. They were heavy, numerous . . . There were far too many sounds for it to be Roland alone.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!"

Henri's face stung and burned as if the acidic blood was exfoliating his skin right off his face. This was it, he was going to die, ribs smashed to jelly and now, the corpse he'd leave behind would be unrecognizeable by even his own mother.

He should have written a will. He should have learned to write so he could write a will, all those things he didnèt do, and had left to do. Damnit, dying was a shitty thing.

Instead of ending up in Heaven or Hell or whatever was out there, he found himself kicking and flailing his knife around like a fish out of water, at nothing and nobody. Everything had reverted to normal, the room, the monster, his physical condition (which was good, it would be impossible to use his "left to go piss" story all beaten up) everything.

He'd better have his excuses well memorized, because now an army of footsteps was coming closer and closer, probably the rest of the team following the trail he left behind, searching for him.

The crystal was gone, but that was the least of his concerns right now.

"Roland, Roland!" He called for him, trying somehow to be loud enough to be heard by his friend but quiet enough NOT to be heard by the others. "We gotta go Roland!" He peeked his head out of the room, looking for his friend.

“Do you?” A quiet, tired voice replied to Henri. “Will you tell us where you’re going this time, then?”

Obviously futile, Henri’s childish attempt at only being heard by Roland had failed and the very second he peeked around the corner, he was greeted by the light of several torches, the men he had ditched to explore on his own, Ira Rajat, and, finally, Roland, who was trailing just behind them.

Ira forced her way through the crowd of men and wiped her brow with a thin cloth. This part of the ruins felt kind of stuffy now. They had, at first, been comfortable enough, if not a bit chilly, but now it was all a little too suffocating for her tastes.

“If you hadn’t left that trail,” she spoke silently, “we’d have left you in here to rot,” she fidgeted with her book for a second, looked down at it and then away, back towards the chamber Henri was in and peeking out from.

She wasn’t assertive enough to yell at either of the boys, however; she was in charge, yes, but she was not the same type of leader as the Colonel. Roland and Henri would definitely get an earful, but it would be topside and a few days from now. At any rate, disregarding their irresponsibility and the complete disregard of working as part of a team, they had found a number of artifacts . . . It wasn’t the largest find, sure, but it was a good one.

“Āpa,” she gestured at a man and pointed towards the chamber. Understanding what Ira meant, the man sauntered down the hall and entered the room, ignoring Henri outright.

For a moment, at least until Henri worked up the nerve to leave his corner, Ira was silent, but, ultimately, interrupted her thoughts with: “Shri Dufort said you two split up to cover more ground, is that right?"

On queue, from behind the group, Roland started performing an intriguing game of charades, urging Henri to . . . Well, to do something. It could have been to agree with what Ira had said or was, in the form of gestures, asking Henri what he wanted to have for dinner tonight.

Roland was not very good at charades.

“Was there anything in there? Artifacts, a passageway or anything like that?”

Busted.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, the torches glow illuminating a shocked, wide eyed, surprised Henri staring blankly with those big brown eyes, searching for answers but ultimately realizing that yeah, he was fucked.

"Oh! Uh, herm, well..."

He had nothing to say. Being chastised for his behavior was commonplace for Henri, it usually went in one ear and out the other, but coming from the Bhatt herself was the worst.They'd have left him here to rot? His little expedition definitely killed his chances with her, and he didn't even want to think what the Colonel would do. He'd almost prefer meeting the statue monster again. Almost. Then again the Colonel might change his mind.

"S-sorry." He managed to mutter out, slowly inching out of the corner he was in, only to get out of the man's way, eyes cast down to the ground. With all of Roland's flailing and gesturing, he'd notice something odd about Henri.

Despite being well versed in the art of being scolded, he wasn't taking this very well. There was a sad, defeated look on his face. “Shri Dufort said you two split up to cover more ground, is that right?"

Unless Roland had left him to go get backup, he felt pretty burned that he didn't come to his aid when he screamed for help during the monster attack. What was this about splitting up to cover more ground? He didn't leave to help? Couldn't he hear that he was getting punched to death by a statue?

Maybe he couldn't hear him but damn, he could have just used the excuse Henri conjured up earlier about getting lost on a pee trip, now he HAD to say yes or else he'd make Roland look like an idiot. They'd sort this out later, there had to be a reason, his best pal wouldn't just ditch him like that.

"Y-yes?" I mean no, I mean I wasn't there, I mean I got lost! What was the right lie? It was obvious Henri didn't know what the right answer was and he was just agreeing with her. In this situation it was probably best for him to keep his answers very minimal, since there'd be no way they'd believe the details anyway.

Then again, since it was clear she knew things they didn't earlier, maybe she would believe him. Maybe she knew all about the magic crystal and the golden room and the statue and he'd have to try to explain where the Hell it all went and he'd be in even more trouble. OR maybe if he didn't tell them they'd all go in and get murdered by the statue.

"There's a-a-a room." Keep it brief, instead of getting done in for saying the wrong thing, maybe they could explore it for themselves. The monster wouldn't come back to life, and even if they did they could ALL take it on, besides maybe he just imagined the whole thing right? Right?

A very perplexed look crossed Ira Rajat's face as Henri's explanation both began and ended with 'there's a room.' Some thought or another, roughly being: "Why yes, yes there is a room, you dolt, I can see that much from where I'm standing, and you're being of no use at all, by the way" popped into Ira's mind, but she was not quite capable of voicing herself so directly . . .

"I-I see . . ." Was all she could say in reply, but not for a lack of really, really wanting to say more.

Luckily, it would only be a short wait after Henri’s lackluster explanation that the man Ira had sent to investigate the room returned, emerging from the dark chamber with the same cool demeanor he had left with, a testament, no doubt, to the distinct lack of slime-oozing, murderous statues.

Escona’s native language was as unintelligible as ever to Roland and Henri, but, considering his tone, it was clear he hadn’t found anything other than the carvings Henri had already seen, and he had especially not seen a floating chunk of crystal. That would have put at least some excitement in his slow, casual way of speaking.

“Carvings?” She asked out loud, but not to anyone specifically. Again, the man started speaking, detailing the carvings to Ira, who cut him off after a minute of listening, and cleared her voice: “Alright,” she announced, “since it’s empty, we will set up camp in the next chamber.”

Two large, familiar packs was tossed to Roland and Henri along with some laughs and jokes and what may have been the most beast-like growl either of them had ever heard come from the throat of a human being. The intent was clear enough: “Don’t ever do that again.”

Directed by Ira, the soldiers headed on into the next chamber, passing by Henri with only the occasional glance, but, unlike the soldiers, Ira Rajat remained behind, looking Henri up and down with a discerning eye.

“You, u-umm, why are you so d-dishev . . . Ah,” she thought over what she was going to say, cleared her throat, and started again: “Why are you so messed up?”

Roland, too, looked at Henri, but took a second longer to realize what she was talking about: Henri WAS a mess, wasn't he?

"Clumsy," he shook his head, embarrassed for Henri. There had better be a series of stairs in that next chamber and he had better have fallen down them at least twice.

You see, you saw, really? Good. Henri didn't want to delve into explanations anyway. He was glad she didn't press the issue further, because beyond "there's a room" he could only come up with vowel sounds as an answer.

The man returned from said room, unharmed by man eating statues, and seemed to relay how boring the room was to Ira. Nothing of interest to see, their voices sound unenthused and hopefully it meant they could post this behind them until later. The entire time Henri stood still, listening and waiting for the okay to tell Roland what happened in the room, and ask a few questions of his own. This whole trip was more exciting than he imagined.

"Alright, since it's empty, we will set up camp in the next chamber."

Now it was his turn to play charades, less physical or more eye charades, staring at Roland and then pointing away with his eyes, trying to hint that he wanted to talk to him and -

"OOF!HRN!"

A huge heavy pack launched itself at Henri's stomach almost knocking the air out of him. He coughed a bit, and when it landed on his toes (either because his toes were a magnet for danger or he couldn't catch worth a damn) he stifled a yelp.

"Huh?" Right, he was pretty messed up wasn't he, not as messed up as he should be all things considered, but his clothes and hair were more out of order than simple exploring would call for. "Clumsy." He nodded in agreement with Roland, then tried his eye charades one more time, his eyes leading them in a direction he felt they should go.

Quit, commanded an inner voice. Henri needed to calm down and act normal for once in his life. The chances of being brutally murdered in his sleep later today - tonight, even? - were unlikely now that the statue had disappeared, after all; he didn't need to rush to tell Roland anything. Putting the Esconians further on guard would not have been good.

“Clumsy, . . . is it?” Ira’s voice was almost a whisper and she looked awfully skeptical. If she had to guess, the bigger one probably smacked the annoying little one around a few times to get him to go off on his own or something like that, and now they were covering it up, probably fearing they would be in trouble. Was that it? Roland said something about Henri being clumsy and then Henri agreed . . . How rough, she thought.

After telling Henri and Roland that they were not to wander off this time, the young woman left to join the soldiers in the crystal’s chamber; it took only a few moments before she was completely out of sight.

“That,” Roland let out a heavy breath and was visibly relieved, “Henri, was close.”