How long had the Dark Elf trio been lost? The winding tunnels of eroding cobblestone and old bedrock provided no sense of direction.
"I knew this expedition was ill-fated," Kira cursed in a hushed whisper. She was the youngest of the trio though ample curves betrayed this; young being a relative term for Dark Elves.
A vanguard of their clan, Kira's impulsive instincts and a love for combat really did little to improve her patience. Luckily she wasn't just raw emotion and was actually quite disciplined with a blade.
"Patience, the fruits of our quest will surely put an end to the petty squabbles of our people." Isolde, with her bookish demeanor, was a stark opposite. She was short, childlike in physical figure, though cascading silver hair flowed past her robed little rump; comically enough, she was the oldest.
Lastly, Sarin held the rear of pack, a silent sadist who packed more mass than most Dark Elf men; the perfect blend of mammary and muscle. The Dark Elf berserker preferred the great-ax, and took great pleasure in butchering her enemies.
Just as hope seemed lost, a makeshift opening could be seen just ahead. Crumbling, mossy stones were soon replaced with finely polished marble; a healthy layer of dust showing its ancient state.
Still cautious, the trio entered the chamber with some haste. A large stone coffin rested at the heart of the rotunda.
Isolde sighed contently, "Ah, the coffin!" As if that meant anything to her less learned companions.
They encircled the granite sarcophagus.
"Are you really sure about this? That such a 'relic' will really reunify the sister-clans?", Kira questioned tentatively. She approached, her hands gently caressing the coffin's heavy lid.
Isolde shot her a playful smile, "You would question your elders? Tsk tsk."
Such a simple gesture really went a long way with the inquisitive vanguard. To see the usually serious sorceress ease up.
Isolde continued, "This 'appears' to be the tomb of Zezima, The Web Weaver; her crown was said to have been revered by all the Clan Mothers. Some key parts of the myth don't add up about this place; I'll need to investigate."
All the while Sarin remained silent.
Ah, but fate is not spurred forth if not by a fool.
"Why wait? We've already wasted two days crawling through dusty caves; let's just take a peek!" Kira's palms found a firm position against the slab of stone, giving a slight push.
Isolde's amethyst eyes bulged in terror, "W-Wait, no!"
Too late. Opened even a hint, vascular ebony tendrils bursts forth like a hungry swarm, blasting away the lid to their ancient prison and lashing about with rapacious intent. No one was the same, varying in girth and length. Kira attempted to scream, a mixture of surprise and fear, and instead only offered a slippery invader access to her gullet.
Isolde readied a spell and Sarin raised her ax in turn, but the seal had already been broken. A terrible host of horrible tentacles secreting sloppy, purple spunk exploded forth. Isolde whispered a terrible curse, "A greater mimic..."