“You can’t feel it, but I can,” Emerick continued. “The Underdark.”
Gali turns away from investigating the orc corpse and faces Emerick. He motions for Derek to be his voice. “You know nothing, tiefling,” Derek echoed. “The Underdark was destroyed over a decade ago; when the Spellplague began.”
Emerick snorted. “You really believe that, dwarf? Let’s take a stroll, shall we?” He brushed pass the group and entered the cave.
Inside the cave it was pitch black. Despite his superior vision, Emerick had to squint to see the walls to either side of him just a few feet away. The floor was smooth as if a river had carved it. The passageway smelled faintly of flowers. He realized his footsteps did not make an echo. Something wasn’t right…
Gali followed closely. Derek and Vlad blundered a few paces behind. “Use your breastplate, cleric,” Vlad commanded.
At the sound of Vlad’s voice, Emerick thought he heard a whisper from in front of him. How could Vlad’s voice echo, but not everyone’s footsteps? Then it dawned on him. “Derek, no-”
“Incencdo” Derek called out. The cave was illuminated for a moment.
Then the senses turned upon themselves. Dark became blindingly bright. Silence became cacophony. The sweet smell of flowers turned to decay. But the pain. The pain was the worst. A fist grabbed their very souls and clenched, wrenching and twisting away.
“Confuto” a meek voice aspirated.
Derek’s breastplate flickered and dimmed. The fist released its grip. Vlad and Emerick both wretched. They all laid there, panting and bewildered.
“What-” Vlad started to say, but Emerick placed his hand over the half-elf’s mouth before he could say anything more. He used his other hand to motion for the rest of the group to stay silent. He got up and beckoned them to follow.
A few lengths ahead, Emerick stopped and pointed. “There,” he said, no louder than a whisper. In front of them stretched a yawning chasm. No one could make out the bottom. “The Underdark.”