the area where the history and legend; of the creation of the alliance
of the forming of the three; this has been deemed worthy to pass on..[..Part Four: The Undead Speaks ..]
My son had yet to return, and it was two nights past that he left the barrow mound. I grow worried, for without him, what would I do? Then I would have to go unto the surface myself, and face these 'AtW' myself. And truly I should not want to do that. I'll assume him dead, and deal with this completely unexpected turn of events as best I can. Tonight, I think I'll send a legion to ravage the area in which my poor son was last known to be--I'll teach them a lesson in the true meaning of power.
I approached the Captain of the Guard, one of the first risen and therefore one of the most loyal, and bade him follow me with a squadron of his finest men. My head hurt worse than it should even were I to be alive. Soon it would hurt no longer. Putting one of my hands on either side of my head, I lifted with all my impious strength, parting head and shoulders. Much better. I settled it back upon my spine, and continued to follow the Guard, who didn't even seem to notice the episode.
'Rally the forces. Tonight we attack the capital.'
* * * * *
'There's no way in hell you can force that down my throat!!'
'Drink it- the herbs in it will dull the pain a bit.' Di'Ethe wore a grin sufficiently smug that Romulus knew this would not be a pleasant experience by any means. He balked, and stalled, and back away, until he was running around the room, while Di'Ethe chased him holding a steaming herbal concoction. I laughed quietly.
vAl stepped into the middle of the chamber, and Rom ran right into him. They both toppled one over the other, until they hit a wall. Romulus grimaced as he was given a message through their mindlink. 'Yes brikari,' he groaned.
Di'Ethe had won.
He took the potion from the Dark Elf, and downed it, gagging all the way. His face turned a sickly shade of green, much like that liquid which oozed out of the cuts on the zombie. A few seconds later, it seemed that the brew had taken effect- Romulus sank to the ground as his muscles relaxed, completely. A new stench filled the hotel suite as Di'Ethe realized that he had made it perhaps a bit too strong, with some unanticipated side-effects. Tam and vAl ushered the man out of the room, much to the amusement of all assembled.
'A little less bananaroot next time' he noted to himself. The rest of us just laughed harder. And then we got down to business, once the room had aired out a bit, once Rom had been cleaned up and brought back, etc.
'What do we do with this walking cadaver? Any ideas? Anyone?' Tam Lyn tried, almost successfully, to get us all back on track, with a myriad of inane replies from the group.
'Cut it open!' 'Chop it up into little bits and have Drask burn them all!' 'Squeeze its head until it pops!' 'Dismember it completely' 'Have Emyr bless it and watch it run around like a chicken with its head cut off!' Such were the thoughts of the vast majority of our group. Excusable, since it was at some ungodly hour of the night or morning and most of us were drunk to some degree or another.
'Why don't we interrogate it?' came the sole voice of reason who spoke up: Emyr.
'Ooooooooooh' came the hushed reply. 'Good idea, Emyr. Since you thought of it, why don't you ask it the first question. But first it should be woken up. Di'Ethe, would you do the honors?' vAldiCi was one of the few people in possession of both his sobriety and his logic.
The Dark Elf got out his mortar and pestle from his bags; he mixed a bunch of foul-smelling and colorful herbs until they were a shade of brown that might have matched Rom's pants in the other room, and had both the consistency and odor of the same. He scraped it into a glass, poured in some water, and mixed it up. Holding his breath, he opened the corpse's mouth and pinched its nose, to make it swallow as the caustic tonic was upended into its mouth.
The change was abrupt and obvious. The Lich-Prince jerked and strained against its bonds, raising a racket fit to wake his compatriots. It realized the futility of its actions soon afterwards, as I told it that I would singe off a digit for each second that it continued. By the time he'd stopped, his right hand was beyond useless, so I just burnt off the arm at the shoulder. The ashes were dumped out the window onto the city streets, which would be cleaned before sunrise.
There was a sharp knocking on our door, and the night warden came in to check out what the noise was all about. He looked around, and took in what he saw: twelve armed, fierce looking men, not all of human stock, an elven woman, and a cadaver. iZ turned and glared at the man, and transformed into a Daemon. Locking eyes with the terrified man, he snapped his fingers. The man sunk to the ground.
'You will remember none of this when you come to. We are just a group of adventurers, not to be bothered for anything, however unusual, that goes on within these chambers. You will proceed with your duties as you were before, as if nothing had happened. When I close this door, you will wake up.'
He closed the door, and we all held our breath as the guard got up, dusted himself off, and went his merry way. Just then, vAl rounded on the Half-Daemon as he resumed his human form.
'You WILL NOT do that again. No matter how important, or useful it may seem, I forbid you to play with people's minds as though they were your toys and you a spoiled child.' he turned away, shaking his head in disgust. 'Emyr. The Lich is awake, you may proceed with your questioning.'
'Who are you? Why have you come back into the world of the living?'
'I am Arcadia, and I did not choose to do so. I was recaptured into this damned form by my father, who always lusted after power. Seeing an old dusty tome, its writings forbidden to all, he thought he'd found the key to ultimate power, and eternal life. The book was one of necromancy. And so here I am. You would do well to fear Rebitt, for he will stop at nothing to achieve his ends. Nothing. He's raided barrow mounds and tombs, catacombs and cemeteries, mass graves and back alleys in mob towns, just to find recruits for his undead army. Lately he's found out...' it made a strangled sound in the back of its as it tried to speak, but was unable to do so.
'Why can't you speak?'
'I was sworn to silence, and I therefore am not physically capable of telling you those secrets. It has something to do with how Rebitt made us...........'
I dozed off. Hours later, I'd found out that after two hours of continuous, fruitless questioning, all had lapsed into sleep. And came to after Arcadia, as the Lich called itself, had escaped. Evidently he bore us no ill will, else we'd all be dead. We all concluded that the King must be notified as soon as possible. Before this mess came crashing down around our ears.