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Coming Soon
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I looked up as we left the inn. It was a new moon, a night when undead are strongest. And what was worse. A storm was coming on. Tonight will be deathly dark. This was not a night for what we were doing, but I had been over ruled. We were low on gold and would be living off the land if we waited. The only ones who did not have a problem with that were Trog and Preylin. Even I had to agree to go. I detest the woods. Next week would be better, for hunting. Why are we doing this at night? Because we had checked the place out during the day and the there was nothing in the crypt. Preylin found evidence of things being here, but for some reason we could find nothing of undead during the day. So we are doing this now.Copyright 2002
Tonight does not feel right. I feel that I am being watched, tested, like someone wants to see how I would handle what was about to happen. I dislike the feeling. Maybe, it's nothing. Damn, we've approached the tomb. The feeling kept haunting me. This was going to be very bad. But then, I have been wrong before.
Our light stones lit our way. The presence of evil was very strong as we had gotten closer, and spells confirmed it. There was not even a hint of it this morning. What evil could feel so strong now and not leave a trace of it when daylight approached? As we neared the crypt door, the light seemed to dim, just a bit. I would have thought it was our imagination, but Preylin and Khyle pointed out the same thing before I could say anything. The clouds hovered heavily over the crypt now. Perhaps that was the reason the Stones do not seem as effective, no starlight to brighten our way. At least, that was our reasoning.
The door was unlocked. We had left it that way this morning. We went in. First, Preylin and Trog, then Kallindrea and I, followed by Khyle and Terrion. Standard formation. How things were in this crypt now was unknown. No one entered through the doors. And there was no trace of any sort of portals. The undead we fought were mostly skeletons and zombies. Challenging only because of the sheer numbers that we had to fight at one time. Each room was what we expected for the most part, occasional mummies and some other lessor undead that we could handle. I was feeling a bit better about the whole thing, almost.
The burial room was the last room we had to clear out. This was where the Necromancer would be if he was here. We were readied for the big fight.
Three necromantic clerics were creating undead by the dozens. They were wearing deep purple robes, almost black or was there black on the robes. And they were waiting for us. The presence of evil was blinding in this room, but it was not coming from the clerics or the undead. There was darker than any I have ever felt. My connection to my deity was nonexistent. Almost as if he did not exist at all.
Trog was the first to drop, then Kallindrea. My prayers seemed unanswered, perhaps just unheard; my healing could only cure scratches, not the deep wounds my friends were receiving; The words of my god that could make undead run and even turn to dust, fell from lips and were as if unheard by the ones that it would normally effect.
The rest became a blur. I remember darkness, an evil darkness like no other. I had the urge to flee. I tried to hold my ground, but my feet would not let me. And I ran. Far away I went. Even when I felt I could stop, I did not. I ran all night long. I did not stop until the sun was well over the horizon. I rested fitfully. I have no idea where I am or where I am going. And I have no idea what happened to my friends. I will not go back. Perhaps they ran like I did. I have the feeling they did not make it. And I don't want to know. For fear that whatever was in there may have them now and may want my flesh as well.
I was in tears when I had realized what I had done. What had made me run? A spell? The underlying evil? Or was it self preservation? I don't think I'll ever know.
I found that I have been wandering for some time now, staying away from cities, roads and people. The few passerby's I have seen I did not say much to. I think that they were afraid of me as much as I was paranoid of them. I stayed awake and watchful during the night, and slept sporadically during the day. I have eaten very little. I have never been the woodsy type and my rations ran out weeks ago.
When the Clerics found her, both of her parents were already dead from a horrible disfiguring and debilitating disease. She was near catatonic hiding the cellar, continually bathing herself. Her skin was raw from her constant scrubbing. She had just started showing early signs of the disease and was, "trying to wash the disease away." Half of her village had succumbed to it and she was determined NOT to die looking so horrid. They had to heal her in the wash basin, then reassure her that she would be all right now. They wrapped her in one of their robes and carried her to their temple.
Her parents, beyond their means of healing, were properly buried there.
At the age of nine, she came to her new home and family. Among them she learned the Faith.
...She awoke to a noise in the woods. She was being followed. But now that she is fully awake and ready to fight, nothing meets her challenge.
Looking up, I see that the new moon has passed again. I must get a hold of myself lest I become undead myself.
I need to learn more about undead. Obviously, I know little compared to the knowledge to be had.
I find myself moving toward the City of Waters Edge. They have libraries there. Perhaps they know of a scholar of undead lore. Argh, my feet ache. I don’t seem to have had any good rest periods at all. I keep dreaming of my companions, walking up next to me in the darkness while I sit watching, and waiting. They always seem disfigured somehow. I awaken immediately and start walking again. I’m afraid to ask for a lift on any passing caravans for fear that whatever pursues me will take its revenge on the helpless on board. So I walk, jog, and sometimes run full out.
I should only be a couple days from Waters Edge, it will be good be home again anyway. Yesterday I thought I saw someone behind me, trailing my course. I made my way toward the closest outpost that I knew of and waited there, telling the local militia that I was just a little nervous to be out alone. I waited at the outpost for three hours and never saw anyone suspicious come by. The guards kept making lewd comments at me when they thought I wasn’t listening so I decided it was time to head out anyway. I hope that I didn’t just give my pursuers a major jump on my trail.
I know enough about this country side to watch out for the local creatures. I am by no means a skilled tracker, but I have seen Preylin in action enough to recognize goblin tracks, some wolves, oh, and it looks like a bear or two may be near the road. I made my way around the tracks as much as I can while still not losing sight of the road. I do not really have a good enough sense of direction to wander off the beaten path too far.
Gods I miss my friends, and I don’t ever remember being this nervous on this road. Of course, I am usually astride a horse as well.
A noise in the trees to the side of the road gets Kida’s attention. She pulled up her crossbow and loaded it quickly. Screams from the roadside announce the arrival of four goblins charging with spears, throwing them, and narrowly missing before they draw their short swords and attack in close combat. Kida is able to get her crossbow to bear and fired it into one goblin before she’s forced to draw her bastard sword just in time to defend against one goblin’s strike. The ringing of her armor deflecting an arrow from the woods distracts her enough that one of the goblins puts his sword into her left thigh.
“Oh lovely, a full raiding party to contend with” Kida moans.
The goblins laugh in their high-pitched cackles, circling to flank her. Two more arrow shots come in, but Kida sees the archer’s this time and steps sideways to throw off their aim. It works enough to get the archers to shoot two of the goblins surrounding her and her armor deflects the other two arrows.
Bringing her sword up in a two handed strike Kida takes advantage of the fumbled shot to fell one that was hit by his friend. She screams in pain as a spear is thrust halfway through her right thigh. “AAhh, you little bastards” she curses through grit teeth. Apparently the one she shot with the crossbow didn’t want to stay down. Are they coordinating their attacks to hit my legs or are they just getting lucky? Hobbling toward the trees, she tries to get her back to one of the trees. The goblins see the maneuver and move to block. So she swings at the other goblin that one of the archers hit. Where are those archers anyway? She spots the other four coming out of the trees they were hiding in, apparently they decided shooting their companions was bad, threw down the bows and charged with spears brandished. Hollering a warcry in their primitive language.
The two goblins that were still flanking her were taking nicks and cuts out of her skin. Most of the blows didn’t get through her chainmail armor, but you hit something enough times and your going to wear through it eventually. Not to mention, the padding can only absorb just so much punishment and the rest of the force of the blow causes very unattractive bruises. This leg was not doing her any good though. One misstep and she would fall to a knee and make the goblin attacks much easier. She hesitated to pull the holy symbol of Kasala, her god, and heal her wounds. She had not really shown much penance since the failed use of her powers in the crypt.
Kasala is the god of the dead. Judge of the damned. Keeper of the underworld. Some think that since his domain rules over the dead that he is an evil god. This is as far from the truth as you could get. He hates undead beings with fervor. They are an abomination to his domain. When a person dies their soul goes to Kasala’s domain, heaven for his followers. But there are so many that die and are unable to be judged quickly. Some are picked up by their respective deities, if they plead loud enough. Others go through the gate’s of the City of the Dead were Kasala holds court, judges their life with impunity and sentences them accordingly. Some are made taskmasters of the city. Those are the lucky ones, found worthy of their time on the prime material. Others are damned to an eternity of service to Kasala for their transgressions.
Kasala rules his domain with an even hand, he is not cruel about it, he does not enjoy it any more than a ranger enjoys killing to feed himself. It is merely the way things are done. He has a job to do. He does what he must.
When an undead is created on the other hand, their souls get ripped out of the underworld and fused back into their bodies, forcefully. The souls do not get a choice in this, and most of them don’t even get control over the dead flesh they used to command. T he priest or necromancer that created the walking corpse is the one in control.
=-=
Kida swung her sword in a savage display of might around her head with one hand, while her other went to her neck where Kasala’s holy symbol lay against her armor on a silver chain around her neck. The symbol was a merchant scale with the balancing piece being a skeletal arm embossed on a silver disc. Very simple, like the god himself. She murmured the supplication to Kasala that would heal her leg, concentrating through the pain it was causing.
The goblins fell back a step from her wild swings going on the defense for a few seconds before they noticed the glowing of the disc in her hands and the slowing of blood coming from her leg wound. Even the scratches on her face disappeared with the flow of healing magic coursing through her body. The goblins let out a shriek as they charged her. She grinned maliciously at their attack now that she had some renewed vigor, and was able to drop one more with a heavy two handed cut to his forehead that sent it reeling back, dead before it even fell over. The ones from the woods saw this and decided it was better to keep this one at a distance, they turned back around to get their bows.
The only one left close to Kida took that moment to take full flight into the tree’s. Kida went for the crossbow she had dropped when the goblins had first charged her, managed to get it loaded just as the goblins made it back to their fallen bows. She took aim and fired at the most competent looking of the bunch, nailing him right in the chest, his shot being knocked off course and flew way over her head. The other three had just loosed arrows at her, but when they saw how good she was with a bow they turned and flew into the deeper brush.
“That should teach you midget rats not to mess with just any lone woman you see on the road from now on,” Kida grumbled as she pulled one of the goblin arrows from her left shoulder. “How did Trog ever take this kind of abuse with that big stupid grin of his all the time?” she quietly asked herself. She grabbed her symbol again as she beseeched her god to bless her with his healing magic again.
Kida dragged the bodies off the side of the road a bit, so they weren’t in the way of the next wagon that came through. She took what possession’s she thought she could sell at Water’s Edge. Well, at least some of these goblins have more money than I do. And walked on down the road. Blood still drying on parts of her armor, especially her right leg where the spear had poked through. The healing spells didn’t completely take away all the pain of the fight so she was still limping a bit as she walked. She thought about using another spell but decided she may need her strength yet. She was not to Water’s Edge yet.
She Felt almost at home, seeing the Clergy who raised her. Their warm friendly faces was a great relief to the ordeal of the past month and a half. They had even kept my room for her, immaculate even, just as she preferred it. It has been almost two years since she had been there. A warm bath, some fresh clothes, and some soothing mint tea are in order now. Mmm . . . A bed to sleep in. perhaps I’ll feel better after some decent rest.
I lie awake in the dark. Even here the shadows seem to haunt me. I feel somehow betrayed by my faith. They taught me to cure disease and fight undead, but they never told me about the true horrors that undead could be. Many rooms are locked up here. For this was once an unholy temple that had been sanctified less than twenty years ago, to show the people that we did not have to rebuild or something.
There have not been proper time or resources to totally cleanse the temple. Once she over heard some of the clergy mention, in hushed tones, about a room full of books about necromancy. Saying that such books should be destroyed – not locked in a vault. Perhaps the higher clergy felt that we could battle the greater undead with the knowledge. The problem is, no one goes down there. The books only gather dust.
Someone should start studying them. She felt that the fears of those who wished to save those books are about to come to pass.
The birds of early morning are singing their morning melodies, and sleep has not been well. She thought that in the sanctity of her room that she would sleep, but she is still haunted, by nightmares. She feels that talking to Shovan may help. He is the Eldest priest. He has always been understanding, and always there for her.
He came to her before she had the opportunity to go to him.
“I sense you are troubled.” He has this tone of voice that is very soothing and an attitude that made you want to tell him everything. “I sense your faith in turmoil.” There was knowledge in his voice, even if you lied or omitted certain truths, he would just nod and smile. Something about him made you come back and be truthful with him, even if not at that moment. She learned a long time ago never to lie to him. Punishment was still done, but she had never seen him truly mad. “Please, walk with me and tell me of your journeys,” he said realizing her problems were serious.
They walked through the Weeping Gardens, so called because it contained only “weeping” varieties of plants and trees (weeping willow, pussy willow, wisteria, bleeding hearts and so on). The whole effect gave a relaxing laid back feel to it. She was blind to its effects today.
She started out by telling him of my early adventures. Of people she traveled with, how she met the last group that she traveled with. When she could delay no longer, she I told him of the crypt, and what happened, to the best of her recollection, and of her shameful flight. She had been with them for over a year. What was wrong with me? Why . . .
She found herself sobbing in his arms, like she had times before as a child, over her parents’ death. But this time the comforting words did not come as they had before. He just held her in silence. Did he hate me for what I had done?
“It is time to show you the Dark Library,” He told her. There were no comforting words or tones, he had almost hidden the anger and pain he was feeling. But they were not directed at her, he kept few secrets. She had thought none, until this moment. “Many of the faithful are not allowed to use it until they are of a higher status, But you have learned some of it already. Now you need to learn the truth from the falsehoods.” Then he led her to one of the locked doors of the temple.
“These doors are rarely opened, for fear the evil will find a way out.” He looked deep into her eyes saying, “There is much fear overshadowing your thoughts. Read and learn. In here are the how’s and why’s of many dark things, with this knowledge you can combat your fears. This Dark Library can also help you to fight your enemies.”
The knowledge could forever change her and he knew it. The pain in his eyes said as much. It does not matter, I am already changed, and I must try to find out who I am, now.
She followed him out, with the excuse that she needed more sleep. But to be honest she was afraid. It was two days of even less sleep and more nightmares before she entered that chamber again. She wandered around the room for hours before she touched a book.
This time in the room she noticed the dust. So she tried to clean an area to study, but to her dismay no matter what she did to clean an area to work, it all settled back into place after only a matter of minutes. It was as if the room wanted to be dirty. Because of the wards around the room, the books had to stay here. So, she was forced to work in the filth.
Hundreds of books were here. All of them about undead and those who create them. Many of the books were brought here by the priests. The priests were required to quest and bring back at least one book about undead to add to the library. To keep them out of the hands of evil. It has very recently turned into more of a request instead of a demand because of a terrible loss of a few too many of the Faithful. Some were purchased from merchants who did not know what they had. From the looks of this room, newly acquired books are just put wherever. Not necessarily from laziness, more likely because they did not want to spend much time within the evil aura of this room.
Well if I cannot have cleanliness, I can at least have organization. What could it take a few days, maybe a week? It was organized before we were here.
It took three and a half weeks. In between fitful rest periods and eating little. It looked like a library, well, one that had been sitting here for years, untouched because of the dust. It was longer than it should have been, but she kept reading things here and there that caught my attention. It did get finally done.
She had been cooped up too long. She figured that she would go into other parts of town and spend some coin, relax and perhaps get drunk. It will do me good to be around the people of the city again.
