The smoke swirled over the battle ground tendrils slithering and chokeing all with the smell of burning dead. Fighting how long had it lasted, Rasticar realised he couldnt remember,was it days or years the corpses were piled high bleached bones rotting corpses fresh dead all jumbled in a horrific macbre whole.Sniffing the air something was different the cries still echoed the clash of swords the crunching of bones the slow squelching of corpses settleing in the mud.Then it came to him why was he fighting there were no sides no reasons just fighting.He slumped forward and rested, for the first time in centuries he belived he slept.
With a slow moan Rasticar's senses awoke no pain no real form just an awakening the field was green and bare yet he recongnised landmarks the days that had been fought here the comrades who had fallen swords in hands.Then a hunger hit him a burning ravageing intense hunger travelling fast he slaughted a Goat cramming the sweet raw flesh into his dribbleing jowels it cut the edge off the hunger but didnt sate it.He drifted to a pool and gazed at the murky reflection gone was the Handsome dashing warrior in its place a Twisted bent creature skin flakeing from his cheek an eye hardly attached,limbs once strong and supple showing muscles and viens through paper thin skin bruised and pustulated festering in places,he felt no sense of horror only a vague need to regain his own mortality and proper death.He looked at himself again noting that one of his fingers was missing prehaps taken by some passing scavenger.
Adurant the Necromancer Hammered and cursed at the metal as it sizzled muttering arcane words of binding forming the holder for the unholy relic, the power of this weapon would win the fight for them turn back the forces of those who called them barbaric those who wished the Redica Citidel to fall and crumble to dust. Rasticars Fingerbone long had he searched for it long had he studied and it had come to him in the grasp of an Innocent worn around her neck as charm.A charm so strange it had done nothing when he had taken it from her and thrown her to the lower denizens of the Citidel to feast on or do as they chose.He looked to Shadec the shuffleing undead who served as many served him as he carried and bought more ingredients for the makeing of the weapon a name for it he must name it but what..The name drifted into his twisted mind like a long forgotten lullaby, "Vertona" slayer of the liveing protector of the dead,He worked now with growing excitment growing anticipation his masterpiece would soon be completed.Shadec shambled back to his area of the citadel back to his sweet love Oberline cast into the depths to die he had taken her under his wing and kept her safe and she in turn and been kind to him, talking of things beyond the dark damp halls in which they existed.also she had told him how she had found the fingerbone in a field near the village it had glowed with a strange sickly green light but when she had picked it up it had glowed and sparkled she had not wanted to part with it.
The villagers gathered in Horror Marbel had died in the night a fresh corpse would bring the necromancers from the citidel to take her for experiments and prehaps she would return in a few days to kill them in their beds mass pacnic gripped them like a fever,those who had loved her wishing her to be safly buried yet knowing her grave would end up like so many others looted and desecrated thier loved ones corpse removed.The aged priest Braenal conducted the cermony they buried her in a wooded glade away from the normal buriel grounds prehaps this would keep her safe.They prayed and mourned her loss but behind it was a need to be away from the grave as soon as possible.Late that night Braenal slipped from his bed to the pidgeon loft and sent a message to the Citedel with precise intructions to where the corpse lay unblessed.
Radicar eased the skin from the corpse slideing it from the cold flesh removeing pieces as large as possible, he used it to seal the worst of the holes in his own flakeing flesh.He left the skinned corpse laying under the tree's its eyes gazeing up at the perfect night sky.
They arrived soon after from the citedal black hoods and silence, they were puzzled at the sight that met them the corpse laying out and not a trace of skin left,they wrapped it and carried it back for examination.
They talked in hushed tones glanceing at the corpse occasionaly no ordinary beast had done this then what lurked outside the walls.A Groan escaped from the corpse a hoarse gasping prophecy of doom issued from it The weapon will look like salavation but it will be your downfall the corpse then settled back and became just flesh and bone.
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An adventure can be based on this history the villagers, Shadac, Oberline, Rasticar, Adurant and
Baernal the priest. Who will help the villagers who will stop the power of Adurant if he completes has staff.soon stats will be here for the main characters stats on the citedal and the surrounding area a simple matter of slipping it into your own campaign.
