The fire-light dipped as Sanctus lost his footing on the slimy surface of the granite and fell two stairs. With a reflex of lightning his free hand reached out behind him and stopped his body from plummeting further into the darkness. He stood up and brushed pieces of the dank moss that covered the stone from his ragged clothing, accompanied by the clinking of various archaic symbols and chevrons that were hung about his person. …showed first 75 words of 1800 total…

…showed last 75 words of 1800 total…had never imagined that his former tutor, who seemed like a bewitched carcass, could lunge at him like that... so fast... he had never imagined that he could dart through the skeletons with such ease... never imagined those spindly, pale hands could break his neck so easily... so... painfully... Vorador tossed the broken puppet of the human's body aside and, dismayed at the extinction of such potential, returned to his sarcophagus to rest without feeding.