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The Tale:

The mud squished under me as I fell to my knees. “Nerull!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “See what I have done! See the death and destruction I have wrought!” Fetid odors of death and decay wafted around me in the newly drained swamp. In the corner of my eye I could see another fish, feebly flapping around, trying with its dieing strength to return to the water. The part of me that once would have cared was dead.

“Nerull! I know you hear me! Give me your servants, that I may wreak havoc upon this land! Give me your minions, and I will reward you with death and destruction such as you have never seen! Who else has served you so! Who else has sent to you the sacrifice of an entire ecosystem! Give me the power!” I chocked on the last word, and the stench around me increased tenfold.

The foul smells in the air concentrated on one spot, as a sickly greenish glow enveloped the area. I heard what sounded like mud being dug up behind me, but all my attention was on one green-glowing light in front of me. I had heard of Lantern Archons, glowing balls of white light, working for the celestial deities. This seemed to me to be an archon of death and decay.

“Serif Lestrade – you call upon one who will not hear your pleas. Nothing you have done serves Nerull. This devastation, it was accidental. You need not continue calling upon deaf ears. You serve only yourself.” Intoned the light.

Anger flashed through me as the death-archon spoke. Accidental indeed!

“You cannot say nothing I have done serves the Lord of Death. Death is abundant here, in this place. How could I not know the results of my actions? Draining a swamp is not without its ecological repercussions! The short-term death of the water-breathing creatures in the area is just a start! The repercussions of my act will not fade like ripples in a still pond, but grow ever outward like the wind upon the waters…driving storm surges to tear down the foundations of mankind’s strongholds. Our Lord needs only answer my pleas; give me the power to call his minions from their graves, to serve him once again in death. Then I shall become the pallbearer of society, carrying it to an early grave. Think you that I will not? Ha! Test me then. What must I do, whom must I kill to please Nerull?”

“You think you can sway us with one death? Fool! Tens of thousands die everyday. What notice will the Lord of Death take of one more?” the archon retorted.

“How about the death of one who’s life is near eternal? The life of an elf, a life that will stretch of many multiples of my own. One dedicated to preserving life and nature? A ranger with nothing but self-centered good in his heart?”

“How easily you offer up the lives of your companions.” Was the Archon’s droll reply. “Very well. Kill the elf. Then we shall talk again.” In a silent flash, the glowing ball was gone.

I stood, knees aching and cold from the mud. A feral grin spread across my face.

“I don’t like what you’re planning, boss.” My rock said to me.

“Stay silent about it, or I will grind you into powder, Splinter.” I felt a profound sense of freedom. No longer would I serve a society dedicated to itself, it was time for me to get some of my own back. I walked back to the raft, a good mile long journey. Our Ranger was there, just like he was supposed to be, meditating his hours away. Gwar slept soundly, his snores echoing amongst the eerily quiet area. Pulling out the magical Flail we had recovered from the graves the day before, I silently took aim at the meditating Elf’s head. With all my strength, I swung the weighted end crashing into his skull, hearing a satisfying crunch at the spikes broke through the bone. Not even a gasp escaped his lips as he crumpled over. With a thought, I used my powers to make the body more transportable.

“Stay here. Tell me if the half-orc wakes”

“Whatever you say boss.”

Dragging the body was easy. Half a mile from the raft, I stopped and used his longsword to dig a shallow grave. Once I had the body covered, a green glow was emanating from behind me.

“Cold. I suspect it was calculated before you even called upon Nerull.”

“Of course. Only a ‘fool’ would expect Nerull to believe me right from the start. I knew there would most likely be a test of my dedication. A test to prove myself.”

“Indeed. What power is it you seek? To become a cleric of Nerull’s? To gain divine magic’s to supplement your psionic powers?”

“Hardly. Had I wanted to do that, my flock would already be infecting society. No, I have more use to our Lord as I am. I seek only…enhancement. A way to call those already gone to my service. A way to create undead.”

“Our Lord loves the dead more than the living. Why should you follow the path of death?”

“For life, of course. Immortality could be within my grasp. The better I serve, the more likely Nerull will be to grant me this. None of the other gods would so readily repay me with eternal life. Not without doing great deeds, anyhow. Death is much easier than life.”

“Very well. We will be watching you. Marking your moves. Find the Keeper of the Red Rose, and bring me the Star.” With that, the greenish glow was gone. I set out for camp, already planning how to convert Gwar to my cause. Or Eliminate him if need be