The Hand Of the Sand
The Hand Of The Sand
A WoW Short, by D. Jones.
You are alone at night in the middle of the deserts that make up much of Uldum. The wind is blowing just enough to howl through the rocks and send chills creeping up your spine. The locals, the Tol'vir, have directed you to these ancient ruins in your quest to dig up ancient knowledge. You are an archeologist, and it's your job to dig through these ancient ruins to find clues on the origins of life on Azeroth and the other secrets the Titans left in Uldum. However, as you work, you get the sensation that you are not alone out here. There's something about these ruins that almost make them alive, and you cannot help but wonder if the seemingly lifeless statues are in fact watching you, following your every move.
A skittering sound reaches your ears as you work. Alarmed, you turn, sword in one hand, torch in the other, but all you can see is more ruined obelisks and the sands of the desert. There's nothing. Yet the skittering is growing louder, drawing closer. Swallowing nervously, sweat on your brow turning chill under the night winds, you back up away from the sound, but you can only go so far. You know this as you feel your back pressing against the walls of this decrepit temple. The skittering is still drawing closer, ever closer. Desperately, you swing your torch out at the darkened night, trying to cast your light towards your unseen visitor, but the light can only travel so far. The skittering is close now. It carries the distinct sound of sand being disturbed as something crawls across its surface in your direction. It's close enough that it might very well be right next to you, but you cannot see it.
Cold, nervous sweat is pouring out of every pore, and your breath is loud and frightened, and your heart is like a hammer in your chest. Only your tight grip is keeping your sword and torch from slipping out of your grasp, but they are still trembling uncontrollably.
A slight skitter turns you to the side, and you see a flash of moment towards you, leaping into your face! You scream. The torch and sword fall from your grasp, and the light goes out, plunging you and everything else darkness.
You don't know how long you've been out when you finally come to, but it must have been hours because the sun is starting to crest up from the horizon. The wind is cold and now that you're conscious, you shiver and sit up, rubbing warmth back into your limbs.
Something skitters, and your heart stops again. Memories of last night come flooding into your mind, of something jumping at you from the darkness. You're still alive though, but...what was it? It's still here? Trembling, you turn around and look behind you. There, standing....standing?!? in the sand, is a disembodied, rotted hand. Much of it is wrapped in worn, rotten cloth and you realize that it has long since been mummified. Now it is animated and moving about on its own accord. The flesh is rotten and green with disease and there appears to be a bluish flame, not much more than a candle's light, flickering lightly out of the stump of its wrist. On one of its fingers is a ring with a large blue gemstone, beginning to sparkle in the morning light. The hand is....standing there, on the tips of fingers, and though there are no eyes to see you can tell that it's watching you. You glance around for your sword but it's no where in site. You swallow nervously.
And then you startle when the thing suddenly leaps up into the air and hovers for a moment. The hand forms into a fist, with what would be the outside ridge downward. You watch as it shakes twice at you and then extends the index and middle finger. It retracts into a fist again and repeats, this time extending all fingers. A third time, pumping twice, but now it keeps its fist. After this, it stops and just hovers with its fist in the air, almost expectantly.
You understand now. Rock, Paper, and Scissors. You almost can't believe that this thing, this object of undeath that you find so abhoring and nearly scared the last years of your life out of you in the night is here waiting for a mere child's game. Feeling suddenly annoyed and angry, you get to your feet and hold your fist out and shake it. The mummy fist shakes with you, and it does so a second time when you do and then. You out all of your fingers, and you frown when he has only two extended.
Scissors cuts Paper. You lost.
The disembodied hand moves again one last time, giving you a thumbs up. It drops back to the sand and skitters off in a hurry, making that same skittering sound that you just can't help but feel chill at after remembering last night, but now you can't help but chuckle at.
Chuckling. You hear laughter from behind the rock and look to see a trio of....goblins? They are coming out from behind a large obelisk, and all three are shaking with laughter, slapping knees or doubled over, one even rolling in the sand. The hand skitters to one of them and leaps up and lands on the goblin's shoulder, resting there. That one, still chuckling, gives you a mock salute, and then all three, laughing still, begin to walk off.
You are left there, beginning to realize that you, a member of the famed Explorer's League of Ironforge, had just been the butt of a very nasty joke.
A WoW Short, by D. Jones.
You are alone at night in the middle of the deserts that make up much of Uldum. The wind is blowing just enough to howl through the rocks and send chills creeping up your spine. The locals, the Tol'vir, have directed you to these ancient ruins in your quest to dig up ancient knowledge. You are an archeologist, and it's your job to dig through these ancient ruins to find clues on the origins of life on Azeroth and the other secrets the Titans left in Uldum. However, as you work, you get the sensation that you are not alone out here. There's something about these ruins that almost make them alive, and you cannot help but wonder if the seemingly lifeless statues are in fact watching you, following your every move.
A skittering sound reaches your ears as you work. Alarmed, you turn, sword in one hand, torch in the other, but all you can see is more ruined obelisks and the sands of the desert. There's nothing. Yet the skittering is growing louder, drawing closer. Swallowing nervously, sweat on your brow turning chill under the night winds, you back up away from the sound, but you can only go so far. You know this as you feel your back pressing against the walls of this decrepit temple. The skittering is still drawing closer, ever closer. Desperately, you swing your torch out at the darkened night, trying to cast your light towards your unseen visitor, but the light can only travel so far. The skittering is close now. It carries the distinct sound of sand being disturbed as something crawls across its surface in your direction. It's close enough that it might very well be right next to you, but you cannot see it.
Cold, nervous sweat is pouring out of every pore, and your breath is loud and frightened, and your heart is like a hammer in your chest. Only your tight grip is keeping your sword and torch from slipping out of your grasp, but they are still trembling uncontrollably.
A slight skitter turns you to the side, and you see a flash of moment towards you, leaping into your face! You scream. The torch and sword fall from your grasp, and the light goes out, plunging you and everything else darkness.
You don't know how long you've been out when you finally come to, but it must have been hours because the sun is starting to crest up from the horizon. The wind is cold and now that you're conscious, you shiver and sit up, rubbing warmth back into your limbs.
Something skitters, and your heart stops again. Memories of last night come flooding into your mind, of something jumping at you from the darkness. You're still alive though, but...what was it? It's still here? Trembling, you turn around and look behind you. There, standing....standing?!? in the sand, is a disembodied, rotted hand. Much of it is wrapped in worn, rotten cloth and you realize that it has long since been mummified. Now it is animated and moving about on its own accord. The flesh is rotten and green with disease and there appears to be a bluish flame, not much more than a candle's light, flickering lightly out of the stump of its wrist. On one of its fingers is a ring with a large blue gemstone, beginning to sparkle in the morning light. The hand is....standing there, on the tips of fingers, and though there are no eyes to see you can tell that it's watching you. You glance around for your sword but it's no where in site. You swallow nervously.
And then you startle when the thing suddenly leaps up into the air and hovers for a moment. The hand forms into a fist, with what would be the outside ridge downward. You watch as it shakes twice at you and then extends the index and middle finger. It retracts into a fist again and repeats, this time extending all fingers. A third time, pumping twice, but now it keeps its fist. After this, it stops and just hovers with its fist in the air, almost expectantly.
You understand now. Rock, Paper, and Scissors. You almost can't believe that this thing, this object of undeath that you find so abhoring and nearly scared the last years of your life out of you in the night is here waiting for a mere child's game. Feeling suddenly annoyed and angry, you get to your feet and hold your fist out and shake it. The mummy fist shakes with you, and it does so a second time when you do and then. You out all of your fingers, and you frown when he has only two extended.
Scissors cuts Paper. You lost.
The disembodied hand moves again one last time, giving you a thumbs up. It drops back to the sand and skitters off in a hurry, making that same skittering sound that you just can't help but feel chill at after remembering last night, but now you can't help but chuckle at.
Chuckling. You hear laughter from behind the rock and look to see a trio of....goblins? They are coming out from behind a large obelisk, and all three are shaking with laughter, slapping knees or doubled over, one even rolling in the sand. The hand skitters to one of them and leaps up and lands on the goblin's shoulder, resting there. That one, still chuckling, gives you a mock salute, and then all three, laughing still, begin to walk off.
You are left there, beginning to realize that you, a member of the famed Explorer's League of Ironforge, had just been the butt of a very nasty joke.