Foul Machinations

Belak muttered to himself and as he strode down through the dark expanse. It was a large hallway with vaulted ceilings carved into the roof of the cave. At one point in time they likely resembled a grand corridor seen in some of the more extravagant structures in the Sword Coast, the arched ceilings embellished with gold filigree and adorned with lavish fresco paintings. That had been another time though - another life. Now they were dark and sullen, any artistry long since faded away or covered in grime. There was a darkness to the room, beyond that which filled the winding passageways of the Twilight Grove. It was the kind of darkness one found the more foul places of the world. A rot which had set into the very rock itself. There was darkness here, beyond the absence of light. A true darkness which made most folk shiver and turn away. The kind of darkness that made your skin crawl from uncertainty and anxiety. The darkness of true evil.

The darkness and macabre energy in the room didn't trouble Belak, in fact, he kind of enjoyed it. He knew that it made the goblins uncomfortable, which was no issue for him. They left him alone and did what they were told, for the most part.
"Putrid creatures," he muttered to no one in particular. He moved back down the long hallway. There were two rows of dragon-carved marble columns which marched the length the hall, most now completely covered in a luminescent fungus which filled the room with an eerie green light. The cobbled floor was cracked and stained. Between the pillars sit many small wooden tables. The contents of the tables are mortars, pestles, small tools and bowls filled with crushed leaves and fungus stalks. Belak shambled from table to table, his beady eyes searching through the mess. He found the curved bladed dagger buried under some parchment and he hastily collected it. With a childlike glee, he hurried back across the hallway to another table. On this table there was a small iron cage. He saw a glint of light reflected from the wide eyes of the quivering chipmunk locked inside. The critter had pressed his back against the cage and its small feet skittered on the base of the cage, trying to put as much distance between Belak and itself.

He sat down and the table and looked at the creature with disgust. He flicked open the door of the cage and stared in a the creature.
"Get out," he spat. The creature continued to shake in fear and remained pressed against the back of the cage. He grumbled again and then held out his hand, palm facing outwards, and closed his eyes. For a moment there was an almost warm aura permeated throughout the dark hallway and the chipmunk seemed to relax noticeably. It lowered itself onto all fours and casually strode out of the cage as if it was in the forest on a warm summer day. The chipmunk sauntered over to Belak and nuzzled his palm. Belak hissed and pulled back his hand, glaring at the small critter and turned back to the other contents of the table.

On the far side of the table sat an ornate box. It was carved woods and there were green laurel inlays into its top which framed a druidic sigil in the center of the box. He reached for it and opened cautiously, as if scared of damaging the contents inside. He gasped when he saw the contents and closed his eyes, breathing in sharply through his nose with a feral delight. His eyes flashed hungrily and he reached in to delicately pluck out a small root cluster which was within the box. It looked relatively fresh, the winding roots not dried out. They weren't too large, but their tendrils were akin to a man's fingers in diameter. There was something, wrong about them though. They were the healthy white-brown of normal tree roots. They were blackened and sickly. Red veins wormed their ways through the roots and pustulant nobules pulsed and secreted a black green ooze. Belak gingerly placed the root on the table and sat back on his chair. The chipmunk stared at him, completely ignorant of fetid root cluster a few inches away and instead gazed at Belak with a friendly admiration. Belak pulled out the blade and drove it's tip down his thumb, a bead of blood pooling in its wake. He drew a line of blood across the unsuspecting chipmunk's head and then another on the roots. He took a long breath and closed his eyes, his hand again facing palm out towards the creature and the roots.
"Tam itst zen Gulthias. Sto es tam kahl'iy akre Gulthias," he began to chant. The roots quivered as he chanted, their ends wiggling as if they were serpents or worms. They seemed to be coming alive, each end shaking as if it unshambled itself from the clutches of rigor mortis. Nodules burst and the ooze pool beneath the roots before it was somehow sucked back up by them. They began engorged, the roots now shaking violently on the table and as Belak continued to the ritual.

Belak's charm on the chipmunk broke just as he reached the wailing crescendo of his chant. The critters' eyes widened and it moved to dive off the table. Too late - the roots moved with unimaginable speed and the critter squealed in pain and shock as the veined tendrils rapidly wrapped themselves around the creature. It shrieked and squealed in pain as barbs formed on the roots and they pierced into the creatures' soft flesh. It convulsed on the table, howling and shrieking in pain, it's small eyes looking back to Belak for assistance. He stared down at the creature with delight and watched as it writhed in pain.
"Feed...you must continue to feed," he cooed to the roots. The chipmunk's struggles were slowly and it's rapid breathes slowed into raspy wheezes before they finally fell silent.

Sauriv gasped and sat up, his nostrils flaring and his eyes wide. Thuldus rolled over in his bedroll and sat up, looking at the Lizardman in confusion.
"Yeh alright?" he asked.
"No," Sauriv said pensively. He closed his eyes to calm his racing heart. He cast his mind out, trying to find a connection with something living. The darkness and foul corruption he had just felt shook him to his core. Something was wrong below him. Something which shook the very foundations of his beliefs and his connection to the natural world.
"What is it?" muttered Olo, still laying in his bedroll with his eyes closed.
"Nothing," Sauriv said after a moment. He lay back down in his bedroll and closed his eyes. His heart still pounding. Thuldus stared at him for a moment and then shrugged.
"Get some sleep lads, few more hours and we'll set off to explore the rest of this wretch'd place," Thuldus said. Olo murmured in agreement and rolled over. Sauriv lay there with his eyes closed and tried to center himself, knowing deep down, that he wouldn't likely be able to ever find sleep in this foul place again.