Vhalar 3rd 719
-‡- The flames had done more than merely revealed the antechambers and alcoves that had become niches in the walls and ceilings of the cavernous chamber. For after the moments of illumination and scourings of heat passed through the air, and the dismalness of the torches remaining providance of light were left, the sounds of skittering movements became alive, and were approaching from a tunnel that they had not ventured through yet.
It was this tunnel that drew the attention of the other avriel. Swords were heard being torn back from sheaths by arms still bearing the added preludes of adrenaline to muscles that were still awake from their combat that only a few were still out of breath over. The few and the youngest. Coroths own eyes narrowed at first to the notion that more arachnids were still ready to die, or attempt to get rid of such superior beings. His head was inclining towards the tunnel, as if the anticipation of combat wasn't enough, nor his ego too high that he would not get out of the way. For he was the closest one to the entryway, and only a bow in hand. A drawn breath serrated through the flesh of his nostrils as his body eagerly wove back into life's menace.
Muscles along his arms were already taut from wielding the hand-crafted makings of a bow. Arms that were ready to wield it till his fingers would bleed if he had to, or he ran out of arrows. Even now, there was a reminding sting to his finger tips from the tension of the bow string that strained at the flesh during use. The weight of sheathed blades upon his back were felt, luring his mind to wield them instead, encouraging him to get into the thick of it like the others.
"Coroth, get into position, NOW!" Words were spoken with that femininely commanding tone of authority over him. His mind wasn't one to spite such an order, he in turn spooled forth his eagerness to get into it with his blades and released them from his mind in the same moments. He made a quick bolt to get into the back of the line of avriels. A vanguard position was formed with the archers taking up a position in front of their exit if they had to put it to use. As the few remaining avriel finished their searching of the dead, gathering looted coins and ancient jewelry, they became the last to get into position.
It was as the last of these winged men fell into place. Shields being hefted up, and blades shimmering against the light of the dancing flames of torches left upon the ground around them that the sounds of the creatures began to strike a semblance of fear, if not caution into their senses. For the creatures kept getting bigger, now perhaps they were more of a quantity.
"Quick..into the corridor…bottleneck formation!" Sheihra was her name, a name that flickered through his mind in voice recognition as her orders whisked over his ears. Dismally he backed up into the corridor behind them, the torches were taken up. One of them thrown behind them, whilst more were kept at the entrance of the tunnel, for they had feared fire earlier, and their heat could ward off their pursuit. Such went through the whispering tongues of one of the avriel at the front as such a tactic passed through their sharing minds.
It was when the last torch was tossed at the opening of the entryway near to them, that the arachnid creatures began spilling into the larger chamber beyond. Coroths eyes widened in perplexion as their sheer number began scrambling over walls that had been known to provide webbing for them to pass along. Some fell abruptly as they could not grasp what they were habitually used to frollicking upon. Others spread elsewhere within the room, leaping upon the already long dead bodies to determine if they were fresh. For they knew not the occurring's in the room.
Coroths intuition kicked in, nearly simultaneously with the others. Bows began releasing arrows into the small horde that began entering the chamber. Coroth watched as they didn't really need to aim, merely fire a barrage of their remaining arrows into their number beyond to hit one of their number. They're numbers though dwindled after a short length of moments. Or so it seemed. For their attentions were elsewhere besides the tide that came to flood the chamber with a maniacle amount of spidery limbs that could easily send eerie shivers into a peasants spine.
The larger bodies of the dead spiders became feasts that they began to pile upon till they were no longer visible. The sounds of their mandibles changing the tones of their screechings were audible in the air as they began to pierce the ears of the avriels. They watched as they fought for the easier prey, the ones that were already killed. They were hungry, if not starving it seemed, and heeded not any code of helping themselves out as individuals, or even as a family. But began to fight amongst themselves over the larger spiders that were perhaps a long time hindrance to them, or perhaps even some prior authority.
A few began to make it over the dead, towards the entryway and the heat of the torches where the whizzing of arrows were emitting from. The only other sound that filled the chamber besides their own arachnal cries and piercing wales of hunger and death that they fought over. It was these that spears began to weave over the wall of held shields to kill when one got too close. The shriek drawing the attention of others nearby to feast upon it. Their minds small and now closed upon the idea of eating. It took only moments for a small pile of their dead to begin to form in front of their wall of shields. And more continued to come who could not get onto the pile that were feasting upon the mounds in the chamber beyond.
