Venus shucked her pack, quietly setting it near the fire, then, sword in hand, strode purposefully to the flap and stepped through it.
Inside, the hovel was a complete disaster, old books, dishes, and foodstuffs scattered everywhere, the bed and table smashed. A wicked-looking spear leaned against the frame of the doorway. What really caught her attention, however, was the large, gelatinous blob in the center of the room. It was a transparent, sickly green that was fairly close to her height and nearly five feet across at its' base. Inside it, she could see what looked to be a nucleus, maybe 10 inches across and spherical, and what she assumed was the late occupant of the hovel. Said occupant hung in the blob, and seemed to be dissolving into it. Venus nearly puked just looking at the sight, and that was very nearly her undoing.
Tendrils shot out from the mass, forming themselves as they came. Several caught her left wrist, and a few more snared her left ankle. Venus swore in surprise, her blade arcing through the ones catching her arm, slicing clean through them. As she severed them, her mind raced, even as more tendrils reached for her. She had all of two options: stand her ground and fight, or free herself and flee.
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