| WhiteShadow was stunned. After what seemed like hours of monotonous stair climbing, he had found this citadel's first window. To his dismay, however, he found that night had fallen over the empty desert sands outside. In the moonlight he thought he saw a biomonster stalking towards the castle, but they were still a long way off and was probably just hunting in the night. He disregarded it and turned wordlessly back to his task of climbing the stairs. Yasmine and Zedd soon followed. The trio had lapsed into silence after an hour, running out of things to say to each other and deciding not to waste their precious energy on it. Zedd, however, had prattled on for a while, before the stony silence from his two companions ended even his cheerfulness. It was a grim party that continued on, a determined party that continued to round the dark corners, with the constant fear of what might be awaiting them. But nothing did. WhiteShadow secretly hoped that the ghoul was the best they had, considering that in their attempt to overtake the Hunter's Guild, this unknown enemy had sent an army of mindless zombies. To WhiteShadow this either showed great conceit or the true extent of their powers. After what seemed like an age they came to the end of the stairway. Facing them was a simple oak door, a torch burning brightly above it. It almost looked inviting after the pitch black of the rest of the complex. Needless to say, the three were greatly unimpressed. "That's it?!?" Exclaimed Zedd, pulling a short knife, similar to Yasmine's, from his belt. Just in case. WhiteShadow turned around, looking disdainfully at his travelling companion. "Perhaps he thought the defense of a legion of zombies and that creature back there were enough. They almost were the end of us, Zedd." "Yeah, but we defeated them, easily!" Zedd laughed back, smiling. Standing in front of her brother, Yasmine rolled her eyes, bringing a smirk from WhiteShadow. "Just be prepared," He said, not wanting to voice his concerns about just how they had defeated the ghoul again. They needed to be unafraid to face whatever was behind the door. His own scimitars in hand, WhiteShadow stood in front of the door, keeping his breathing steady. He had never been so afraid before, and it was affecting him again. How could he be so weak? Pushing down his fear, he tried to focus his rage. His first target: the door. It splintered inward as he kicked it, sending the bulk of the door crashing to the stone floor. It hit hard, the impact throwing up huge clouds of dust. The trio stood coughing at the door for a moment, the dust hurting their eyes and lungs. As their vision cleared, they cautiously entered the room. No sound had been made apart from the crash of the door. From the layers of dust, it seemed apparent that the room had not been used for a while. The room, at first glance, seemed to be filled with cages. They hung from every possible protuberance, some containing strange small bones, the rest empty. WhiteShadow at first though that they must have contained birds at some point, but there was not a feather to be seen. Suddenly, the adventurers attention was distracted by a mild coughing coming from the far corner of the room. Looking past the multitudinous bookcases and cages, past the covered-over furniture to the corner, where an armchair faced the single high window in the room. Visible to the trio, a single black-clad arm could be seen on the arm of the chair, an iguana-like creature running up and down its length, it's purple tongue flickering in and out. The arm occasionally shook as the owner coughed, but gradually the coughing subsided, another arm appearing to stroke the iguana and calm it's movement. Frozen, the party stood transfixed. Their emotions were torn between shock at this man, sitting quietly in a castle full of the undead, and attacking him, for this surely must be the evil behind it all. Snapping them out of their reverie, the man in the armchair spoke. "Sit down, sit down, it's rude to continue standing there. Not to mention breaking my door." The man chuckled softly, but the silence in the room allowed his voice to carry easily. WhiteShadow, Yasmine and Zedd didn't move. Their weapons still gripped in their hands, they stared at the back of the chair, ready for anything. "Fine then," said the voice, "I'll get up." The iguana skittered off as the man's arms shifted as he hauled himself to his feet. As he rose in front of the moonlit window, the back of his hooded head, and two fine boned, palman hands came into view. The biggest surprise, however, was that the man was hardly taller than the armchair that he had risen from. This sent chills of familiarity through WhiteShadow, vividly recalling the incident in Aiedo which seemed to be controlled by a very similar man. He held his position though, noting how that sorceror had disappeared from WhiteShadow's grasp. The sorceror turned to his guests, who gave a gasp upon beholding his countenance. To the untrained eye, he was a motavian. But as WhiteShadow continued to stare at his grinning face, he saw the glazed look in the eyes, the matted, dark patches of fur, and strangest of all, the fine, long-boned hands of a palman where his claws would have been. As the sorceror rounded the armchair and headed towards them, his movement carried his particular smell across the air. It was a smell the three recognised well, and had been subjected to all day long. It was the terrible stench of death. For all intents and purposes, the sorceror standing before them was a Motavian zombie. But his clear voice, and the fact that he had to breathe to cough, made the creature standing before them all but impossible to exist. The sorceror stopped as he reached WhiteShadow, having to look up at the big albino, his rotting face exhibiting an evil smirk. "I see you are confused, white one, but from what I have seen it seems that the two of us are alike. You, you are an albino, the ancient prophesised harbinger of doom. I, on the other hand, am dead. I've been dead for quite a long time. You see, both of our... Conditions would mostly likely lead to some sort of casting out from society, am I right?" WhiteShadow nodded slowly, warily. He didn't trust the fact that this creature could talk at all, regardless of his friendly and eloquent tone. WhiteShadow's ears twitched at every word, searching for some hint of hostility. "But what am I saying, I am doing naught to relieve you of your confusion. Your probably wondering why I can speak when all my glorious zombies below could barely scream as you ruthlessly cut them down;" His voice suddenly took on an acidic edge; he was angry. "I, however, am not what you would call a zombie. I have been resurrected, yes, and my body is... Decaying slowly, but I assure you that my innards, and my spirit are thriving. But you're not here to listen to my tumultous tale, are you? You're here to destroy me, like you did to my precious ghoul and my zombie horde! Well, prepare to become what you fear as you meet death at my hands!" WhiteShadow recoiled at the screamed threat, the fear that had plagued his expedition into the castle thus far had siezed upon him once more. However, as the sorceror lifted his arms above his head and began to chant, Yasmine and Zedd leapt forward, their knives slicing through the air toward their common target, who seemed to be wholly focussed on WhiteShadow. As the the two blades seemed about to cleave the horrid creature in two, however, it struck its arm out in a sudden motion, cutting off his chanting. In an instant, the air around the sorceror seemed to shimmer for a moment, and the two knives were turned away by seemingly empty air. A triumphant smile crossed the sorceror's face as WhiteShadow groaned. "A Deban technique," He moaned. "Well spotted, white one;" The sorceror sneered as he began forming intricate patterns once again. "But now you shall die at the hands of Gert-Kaar, the great necromancer!" The last statement was screamed out as the lines Gert-Kaar had traced in the air flamed to life, flying forth from his fingers towards WhiteShadow's exposed face. Reacting on instinct, WhiteShadow dived to the floor, rolling towards the necromancer as the arcane symbol flew over him, crashing into a tall bookcase on the opposite side of the room. Suddenly, the bookcase exploded into flames, sending some of the cages flying. A leather bound book, propelled by the explosion, somehow penetrated Gert-Kaar's shield, and the necromancer caught it easily. Slipping it into his robes with some reverence, WhiteShadow noticed that the book hadn't been propelled by the explosion, it had been propelled by Gert-Kaar. Not only that, but the spell that he had used had been a much more advanced version of Foi; WhiteShadow had to learn it! As this all transpired, Zedd and Yasmine had resumed their attacks, slicing hopelessly at the necromancer's force field. WhiteShadow rolled away from Gert-Kaar once more, leaping to his feet and brandishing his scimitars veangefully. Pushing his fear down, he gave his battle cry and charged forward, noticing the shimmer in the air as Gert-Kaar refocussed his shield against the threat. Just as he was about to strike, however, he dropped to the floor and rolled for a second time, tumbling between Yasmine and Kaar to come up behind the necromancer. Grabbing his shoulders, WhiteShadow focussed his own energy into his purification attack, hoping to finsh this battle as soon as possible. |