As a sage and adventurer, I had encountered many terrifying creatures and seen many terrible
things, but nothing could have prepared me for the horror I witnessed in that ancient
temple.
The cultists had taken over the ruins, and I had been investigating their dark activities,
hoping to uncover some lost knowledge of the arcane.
I was observing them from the shadows when I saw them perform a twisted ritual and was
delighted when their chanting did actually help me translate some of the writing carved
into the slick stone walls.
I regret that to this day, as those runes were carved by the most ancient beings you
can imagine and every sound, every line and curve of those words are burned into my brain
like a painful wound i will never heal from.
The cultists intensity rose as they continued to chant the rest of the language I did not
understand, and I watched as they smeared foul oils and filth over one of their own,
then stabbed into him many times with rusted and very old daggers of exotic make, sacrificing
one of their own to their dark gods I felt an instant and quickly growing chill and sickness
to pit of my stomach as their evil energy grew and then, with the last of his life,
the fatally mutilated victim screamed as his skull began to glow with an eerie, flickering
flame which shone from under his flesh, which bubbled and crisped, melting and sliding off
his head with grotesque sizzling and popping sounds, then, something awoke in those scarlet
glowing eye sockets and it slowly rose from the altar as an undead creature, a Flame Skull,
floating just above the heads of the cultists who were still locked into their chants and
movements, but were already recoiling from the heat coming off the horror.
I could see confusion and fear in the cultist's eyes, as I suspect they were not expecting
this result and were totally unprepared for it to unleash a blast of flame, its birth
nova, that simply immolated all of the surrounding people, their robes, their scrolls, tomes
of arcane knowledge and shattered the rock alter with the flame skulls own headless corpse
on it.
It was pretty clear the Flame Skull was not bound or controlled in any way and I simply
picked up the end of my robe and took off like a bat out of hell, genuinely fearing
for my life.
I knew I had to escape, but the creature detected me with ease, and its fiery aura singed my
skin.
It was unlike any undead I had ever encountered, moving with a speed and agility that belied
its undead status.
I could see intelligence in its movements, as it adapted to my attacks and employed clever
tactics to block my escape.
This thing was strategic, it didn't make the same mistake twice and it even started to
speak, mocking me and my futile attempts to escape my certain doom.
It also described the exquisite agony of being burnt alive, so I suspected this was not the
soul of the original cultist victim, this was some dark entity that had slipped into
the skull thanks to that ritual.. this thing was crazy and it really, really wanted to
kill me.
Turns out my initial thought was wrong, this thing remembered who it was, vaguely, and
it certainly knew how to cast spells.
As I tried to evade its attacks, I observed the features of the ruins around me.
The temple was ancient, and the walls were adorned with strange, alien symbols that seemed
to pulsate with dark energy which caused an increasing sickening weakness in me that threatened
to slow me down enough for the flameskull to catch me.
The corridors were narrow and twisting, and I could hear the echoes of the cultists' chanting
in the distance still, even though they were already dead, this temple ruin, it seems,
would never permit my soul to leave, even if I died here.
The Flame Skull moved with a grace that allowed it to navigate the ruins with ease, and it
seemed to know every nook and cranny of the place.
The creature was far from mindless, it had motivations and a sense of purpose.
It knew that I was a threat to its existence, and it used every trick in its arsenal to
defeat me.
It created walls of flame that blocked my path, and it burned up all the oxygen in confined
corridors, leaving me gasping for breath.
It seemed to take pleasure in my suffering, as if it were savoring its revenge on the
cultists who had created it and wanted to burn me, plus anyone else it encountered.
I fought with all my might, but it was a difficult battle, and I count myself lucky to have escaped
with my life.
If I ever face a Flame Skull again, I will remember to stay out of its fiery aura and
to use spells that do not rely on poison, fire or, unexpectedly, cold damage.
A ranged attack can also be effective, but they are very hard to hit their small size.