The chatter of voices outside the chamber door were unrecognizable. As soon as the cultists had pressed him into the room they had swiftly locked the door behind him. It was narrow but the roof was several feet above his head. A comfortable proportion seeing as his size made a humble residence look like a child's playhouse. Morrian's bare, scaly feet slapped against the ground with his stride to the altar.
"Is this how I am to be ended? Reduced to a thrall to be thrown at idols?" The hum and turmoil outside the chamber door grew as the worshipers began chanting.
"Ulakah! Ulakah! Ulakah!" The chorus grew in volume. These fanatics really meant to give him to their god. Morrian looked around for a semblance of the only thing that had drug through the blood and gristle of the arena. A weapon. Anything would help. It would be better to die fighting than lay over like an ignorant farm beast to be slaughtered for another's gain.
The crocodile-kin growled in frustration. All that was in here were tomes, tiny valuables strewn everywhere, and a stone resting upon a gilded cushion on the altar. He would be better off fighting with the tools he was born with. Despite the din of chants the stone drew his attention. It was the only object placed so meticulously upon the altar. Morrian slunk forward, investigating more closely. It was as if the void had been captured in a small stone for observers to see. Countless flecks of light shining within. Touching it would definitely be dangerous. This was perhaps the very thing they worshiped and made as an artifact to their god.
Nothing good is waiting outside that door. What could it hurt? He reasoned, pressing forward with a hand to clutch the stone from its perch.
It was as if the stone had enveloped him. The specks of light trapped within burst outward. For a moment there was a great feeling of euphoria and vertigo. Morrian tried to withdraw his hand but there was no longer anything to withdraw it from. It was as if he were trapped in a great nothing surrounded by the stars. This cult god had taken him. They had won. Panic set in. Everything was upside-down and wrong, spinning, bright and then dark. No air, no ground. Only light.
Finally. A chilling embrace took him and his feet were set upon firmer ground. Morrian stumbled to the snow covered floor and drew in a long, painful breath of cold air. His bare extremities were vulnerable to the sharp wind. Were he to have normal skin like a tiny human this would be even worse. Morrian flexed his hands and looked himself over. Nothing had changed. So he wasn't dead yet. Good.
The view would be more interesting if he wasn't so damned cold. The most striking thing he could see was the flickering of light beyond the hazardous-looking bridge. Where there's such light there would be greater warmth. So he moved forward to test the bridge. The encumbered thing likely wouldn't welcome his weight added to it, so he took caution in hand.
Vashonn
