Hello, this is Azan. I've decided to take liberties with Exdaemon's account and spare you his drivel, heh heh. Anyhow, I've been working on the development of Oath for a while, so that's why the update has been a long time coming. Sorry about that- I promise that Oath will be developing much faster from now on. This can definately be classified as 'filler'; I am building up to more... let's say 'adventurous' updates.

As always, keep reading and tell me what you think.

- T.E. Azan

Chapter 3: Vengeance

I paused, and looked into my beer. Now the swelling flagon seemed a lot more inviting.

"Markus… you're lying." I murmured. I knew about the Death Rot, from what I'd read from various temple articles on magical disease. The Death Rot, as it had been dubbed over the years by peasants, had killed many victims of undead attacks. It chaps the skin, which takes about a month, and then eventually alters every figment of the body, corrupting it from the inside until the victim looks like a zombie herself.

So I had about a month before I became a zombie in a coffin.

…

BY RIADENAL, WHY NOW, WHY NOW, OF ALL TIMES- THRICE CURSE THE UNDEAD, I WILL REND THEM LIMB FROM LIMB, I-

Patience. Calm. The Chivalrous Father had taught me these skills, and I abused them.

Markus sighed and flung a dirty brass key across the bar, which clanged against my flagon.

"Your room," he muttered, and heaved himself off his barstool and up the stairs, presumably to his own room. "We leave tomorrow morning, for your cure."

"Good night." I said, and I got no further reply from the stairs.

I began to think about my plan, or the lack of it. Here I was, carting myself off with a complete stranger, possibly one who did not share my faith. Was it customary to travel with mysterious strangers in these parts? It was true that I had never been very far from the village, and the times that I saw someone who wasn't an Elf were very rare; and all the other races I saw were Half-Elves.

But I digress. Riadenal favours tactics, and I am a Champion of Him, so I needed to think tactically. Markus looked like he could be of use to me. He obviously knew the roads well, and obviously was experienced. I, as a complete stranger to this new world, needed him.

But did he need me?

It was not beyond my mind that Markus would not hesitate to leave me somewhere once I had lost my usefulness or interest to him. He seemed a rough sort- a criminal, perhaps, or a soldier.

So why did he let me come with him?

Attraction, perhaps. Yes, that could have been it. He was attracted to me. I found it particularly cute, but nevertheless something I could use to my advantage. Although deception isn't exactly chivalrous, could it be counted as a military tactic?
Gnnnnurgh. I slammed my palm against my head and groaned loudly. It was too late to argue semantics with my own brain. I heaved myself off of the bar stool, swiping the key from the counter, and headed upstairs, entering my room soon after.

The room was far from what I'd been used to do in the forest. The bed was quite lavish, scented with light herbs which I not smelt before. I took off my armour and laid Oath against the wall, where its light dimmed, as if it itself was being laid to rest.

I closed my eyes and descended into dream, trying to let the worries of my mind be swept away with the cool, calm waves of my inner conscience.