The Sundered Sarcophagus – Part 3

What a wild and wonderful weekend!

My wife ambushed me with the following ultimatum Friday evening: Play World of Warcraft: Classic with me or lose me forever.

Okay, perhaps that is a touch over-dramatic, but my wife did have a point.  We started dating through WoW in 2013.  It is the origination of one of our first and most sincere “Us” moments.

No, you don’t get to know.  It’s ours, no peeking.

HOWEVER.  For those unfamiliar with World of Warcraft in its formative years, it is an enormous time suck.  Quests all involve you obtaining some random drop off of a specific mob, or running across the zone twice to deliver a package.  Or running through three separate zones, also twice, to deliver a package.

Basically, MMO’s were still kinda “New” to massive audiences, and the first wave of WoW players were subjected to a lot of ‘artificial gameplay lengtheners’.  Those drops I mentioned before?  You got one every 3 kills.  Or every five.  Or every ten.  And you needed double digits worth.

Yeah.  Yeaaaaah.

While I forgive them for not knowing how to do things right in 2004, jumping into the time-chamber and hopping onto the grass of Mulgore with 2019 eyes is… jarring.

I lost a loooooot of time to it.   Like, A LOT a lot.  So this post is a little later and a little shorter than I wanted it to be.

However, it shall not lack for quality.  I found some goodies in this section, and I’ve every intention of polishing them until they shine.

The Sundered Sarcophagus – Part 3

A slim, delicate fist landed upon its rightful throne of Ifna’s tilted right hip.  Properly armed and armored, she surveyed the floating city below.

There was the bowl, coasting gently across the sand with its swirling tail of sand, a thousand vivid blue fireflies whizzing around it as it floated serenely by.

Somehow, someway, she needed to find a way into that fascinating basin.  She hadn’t been expected her death, but at the end she had accepted it.  Armed with an unexpected second shot at existence and the knowledge that at least some form of humanity remained, she wasn’t about to let it leave her in the dust.

Well, it was actually sand, but now she was just splitting hairs.

Her fist surrendered its perch, and she slapped her hands together as she made her decision.  A flurry of wind and sand flew outward from the impact, momentarily startling her.  She let out a laugh, and broke into a slow trot.

Her tomb had been set back into the uppermost portion of the mausoleum which had sat atop the tallest hill of her home.  She had loved studying the flowing pillars and intricate paintings of the structure, but it left her in the awkward position of having to run downhill across windswept desert in a body thousands of years out of practice.

She tripped almost immediately.

Two very disconcerting things happened one after the other as she struck the sand:

First; when she stuck out her right hand to brace her fall, it melted into the sand beneath her instead of bracing her impact.  It didn’t simply force its way into the sand; instead it merged with the grains like an ice cube melted into spiced wine.

Where hand met sand, it was hand no more.  She let out a scream, but that was soon lost as the rest of her plowed into the sand, her momentum indifferent to her lack of bodily integrity.

Second; despite the fact that she lacked a hand, or an arm, or any other body parts that she could tell, Ifna was completely conscious as she flowed into the desert.  She could ‘feel’ all of her limbs as though they were still flesh and blood, despite their lack of form, but they felt slow and restrained, like she was falling into a river made of butter.

Unable to shake the analogy, and unsure of what else to do, she started swimming.

Alarm and disorientation gave way to excitement as each breast-stroke gave her new understanding as well as momentum.  She found that she could see, but it was with far more clarity than her eyes ever managed.  Each fleck of grit within a dozen meters was now her eyes and ears and nose.  She could feel everything above and below the surface of the desert.  As she swam, she saw the shape and color of the other buildings which had once been home, the dunes having long ago laid claim to them.

The bowl, floating in the valley that was now inexplicably above her, was illuminated more clearly and vividly than two eyes could ever hope to achieve.  A hundred-thousand images had been captured all at once, and they were fitted together with the skill of a master craftsman until she could see the city in stunning detail.

Laughter came then, bubbling up from within her as she stared at the city in childlike wonder.

With an unheard shriek of glee, she swam on.

Curious what the limits of her newfound domain might be, she began a long and graceful dive.  She dove deeper, her newfound vision losing all color and light, until she swam in pitch black sand which gave off an eerie, ghostly light to her eyes.  Eventually the desert met earth, specifically an enormous sheet of basalt.  As she approached the rock, she slowed her descent, flipping lightly until her feet were resting comfortably against solid stone.

Well, she thought with a grin, I guess there are limits after all.  

The grin become an enormous smile as she looked up.  And up.  And up.

Ifna gathered herself, and with an almighty leap which cracked the slab of basalt beneath her, she rocketed towards the surface.  She pumped her arms and legs for all she was worth as she went, gathering speed until she could barely see where she was going.  All she knew was that the light had returned and the sky had never looked so blue as it did below the surface of her personal ocean.

With a spray of sand and a whoop of joy, she burst out of the un-moving ocean and into brilliant light of day.  Her usual curves and honeyed skin asserted their dominance, giving her shape the instant she was no longer within the sands.  Her skin gleamed as she soared five, then ten, then fifteen meters into the air.  As she reached the zenith of her leap, she flipped once more, pointing her feet towards the sands below.

Then she started screaming, because it was a long, long trip back down.

Concentrating with all her might, she focused on sticking the landing.  Maybe, if she were lucky, she could slip back into the sands like some insane diver.

Ifna had adapted to more changes that day than most souls experienced in a lifetime.  Screaming while she fell fifteen meters, full of adrenaline which had soured into fear, she had finally reached her limits.  Despite the fact that she had been swimming in it just moments prior, as the wind howled past her ears, it resembled nothing so much as her second tomb.

She slammed into the desert with a blast like a volcano erupting, the sand  around her geysering a solid three meters into the air.  She had landed on her feet, but the price she paid was ruinous.  She let out moans of agony as she starte down at her legs.

They were webbed with cracks, and the portions which weren’t broken were simply missing, exposing raw sand where blood and bone should have been.  She fell onto her back, screaming, as the desert around her slowly rose up to fill the cracks and gaps she had made.

Half an hour later, there was no sign of her injuries, and the pain was nothing more than a memory.  Slowly, she raised her legs and gave a little kick.

She laughed, weakly, and pushed herself up until she was once more standing upon the sands.

“Let’s never do that again, shall we?” she said to no one in particular.

The city loomed before her, as implacable as it was blue.

At least now she knew how she was going to get into it.

To be continued…

Crackfully,

The Unsheathed Quill