The Insufferable Dead
Quest to Purge Necromancy in Highathar
The snow was thick in the air when our heroes departed the Golden City, trekking across country across the snowy fields of Ecclestius. Their journey was comfortable as Inns along the way played host to our Champions as their quest drew ever nearer. Most had fought together against the Rieklings and Wraith of Mount Kistair, and a bond of brotherhood in arms had begun to take root in these men, men whom in another time and place, may be enemies. Our heroes discussed who this Necromancer may be, whether he be a fallen elf, a twisted man, or something else all together, perhaps even the Vampire Lord as foretold in the Maegi Prophecy. Despite the comforts of the Inns along their road, little sleep was to be had for our brave party.
Winter had gave way to spring as our heroes reached Highathar. The roads now were eerily quiet as they wound up the twisted mountain paths in search of the ominously named Fallen Fortress, home to the Necromancer. All around them, signs of Corpus could be found. Abandoned villages, half eaten corpses, and livestock, and everywhere, warning signs hammered to trees warning villagers to run and hide. There was no doubt, Corpus had befallen Highathar.
Despite the foreboding signs, their journey was safe. That is until they reached a long snaking cave, said to be an old hero's burial site, the cavern had a history of being haunted. The Champions had little choice, but to enter the cavern as it was the only route to the Fallen Fortress.
As they stepped into the darkness, our heroes felt the cold presence of Dark tingling up their spines. Hands unseen clawed at their limbs and invisible mouths moaned in their ears. Finally, when the Champions thought they could take no more, a form began to take shape before them. It was an old man, his eyes sad and his mouth grim, a large scimitar in his hand.
"The dead do not suffer the living... begone!" Wailed the voice of the old man, shrill and cold.
"You will suffer us!" Cried Fel Jekk, squeezing his axe in his hands taking a step toward the man. "Where is your master?"
The old man's eyes, grey and lifeless, didn't seem to see Jekk, only look through him. "The dead do not suffer the living... Begone, or join us!"
With that the arm of the old man began to grow with a sickly corpse light, undead burst from the ground of the cavern and attacked the party. Warriors of old, now made to serve the Dark, clawed and bit at the Champions of Light. Araris Valarian swung his sword with all his might, decapitating a throng of dead rotted men. He did not see a large man, face rotted and eaten by graveworms, crawl out of a crevice behind him, and pull him in. The screams of Valerian were heard as the rest of the party fought on, unable to pin point where the doomed man was.
Master Deagrin Burntbeard swung a heavy hammer down upon the old man, but his scrawny physique betrayed the true power hidden there, and the old man was able to turn the hammer with his mighty scimitar, and dance limberly around the stout Dwarve. Bagamu Goi'Orka swung a heavy two handed sword at a large corpse, the red eyes feral with hunger. By the time he snuffed out those crazed red eyes and looked up, the Orc Champion saw Deagrin Burntbeard's head come cleaved clean off his head.
With a deep war cry Arnulf Redbeard, Arl of Stronghelm, charged into the old man, but the figure was near impossible to hit. His body seemed to meld into the rock of the cavern, only to turn and break the blades of our heroes. With a shattered sword, Arnulf cursed and pulled a dagger out of his belt. The old man emerging from the rock with his scimitar flashing through the black cavern air. Galdor Oranor, the elven hero from Galadriel intercepted the scimitar with his sword just before it sunk into the Nordic Arl. The old mans grey eyes only looked at the Elf and Man before him.
"The dead do not suffer the living!"
With a flash of Dark, a black pulse emitted out from the old man and threw Redbeard and Galdor to the ground, where they were pulled down into the earth by grey rotten hands, to eternally sleep with the dead.
"We have to get out of here" hollered Atarian Krestarii, not seeing the eight foot tall corpse just behind him.
Najim Al-Din, swornsword of Emir Saladin was on him in a flash, quickly slicing the arms of the beast clean off before slicing his head from his shoulders. "Out!!! Out now!!! Go, I got the exit!" The deep blackness set into the cave, the only thing visible was the grey lifeless eyes of the old man as they moved closer to the Hronidian. He heard his party shuffle past him, running as for daylight as they escaped the cave. Just before those grey eyes could swallow him up, Najim Al-Din followed his companions and escaped.
DEFEAT!
Ararian Valerian has died!
Deagrin Burntbead had died!
Arnulf Redbeard of Stronghelm has died!
Galdor Oranor has died!
The Champions of Light have failed to capture the Necromancer!
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