Old Bread-and-Butter was a dog that knew when to avoid trouble. Somewhere along the line of canines between the mongrel and it's wolf ancestors, this instinct had permeated itself as a crucial survival trait particularly when dealing with humans.
This is chiefly the reason why the dog now slunk along the road outside the Windy Wail Inn, having exited via the half-open front door. Some rough humans had come in and were creating havoc in the Inn and the old dog thought it would be wiser to spend the night outside the establishment. After stretching itself thoroughly, Old Bread decided to head to the stables where it was probably quieter and less dangerous when the tops of a few hooded figures appeared over the hill up the Kings Highway. Old Bread observed these newcomers carefully, and then caught a whiff of their scent. The dog then rapidly ran to the stables as if it was chased by a horde of demonic cats.
"THIS ALE TASTES LIKE MONTH-OLD TROLL PISS!"
Another mug smashed against the back wall of the bar as Darren cringed in fright. The barbarian, dressed in animal hides with a brown fur-cloak which he boasted was Hellbear's hide, sat down again at his table. Two other younger barbarians, also clad in furs, laughed raucously and banged the table as they drained their mugs of ale as if it were only water.
"That's the third mug you've thrown away, Thargan," slurred one of the barbarians.
Thargan snorted. "I've had stump-water that tasted better, Krangar!" He turned towards the bar. "HOI, YOU! GET ME ANOTHER MUG! AND THIS TIME MAKE SURE IT'S ALE OR I'LL MAKE SURE THE MUG SMASHES AGAINST YOUR WORTHLESS SKULL!"
Darren nodded fearfully and, with a shaky hand, proceeded to draw another mug of ale from his rapidly depleting barrel. Thankfully, nights like these were not often; the barbarians from the nearby hills rarely came down the Kings Highway to frequent the inns. Normally, they would travel to the elven cities to whet their appetites using whatever coin they had mysteriously come to possess. However, every few years or so, a group of them would take it into their heads pay a visit to the inns and many an inn-keeper along the Highway cringed at the memories of these social calls.
The door of the inn suddenly swung fully open and Darren prayed that whoever it was, they had better sense than to enter an inn being internally wrecked by a bunch of barbarians. Three hooded and cloaked figures entered the inn followed by a woman dressed in a red robe. Darren groaned inwardly, it was a priestess. Outside, Darren could make out another two priestesses accompanied by a few more hooded figures. The barbarians immediately reached for their weapons.
"Inn-keeper," called the priestess, ignoring the barbarians. "I require some information from you."
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING HERE, YOU CORPSE-LOVING WITCH!?" bellowed Thargan as he and his comrades stood up, their clubs and axes glinting wickedly in the light.
The priestess regarded the barbarians as one might regard an insect. "I have not asked anything from you, filthy one. And I prefer to be referred to as Sister ShadowLife."
"I CAN PREF.. REFER TO YOU ANY WAY I WANT!" shouted the barbarian. "THIS INN IS TAKEN SO GET OUT AND TAKE YOUR MAGGOT-RIDDEN CORPSES WITH YOU!"
It was only then when Darren noticed that the hooded and cloaked figures seemed unnaturally still. He shuddered when he finally saw the bony arms and skeletal hands half-hidden under the cloaks. In the shade of one hood, Darren could almost make out a vacant-eyed skull.
Amazingly, Sister ShadowLife only sniffed in disdain and turned back to Darren. "As I was saying, inn-keeper, I have a few questions for you."
"You're asking for it, witch," growled the barbarian named Krangar as he advanced towards her. Immediately, one of the skeletons moved in front of him. Cursing in the name of Krolm, the barbarian swung his axe, only to be parried awkwardly by the skeleton's scimitar.
What followed was only partially observed by Darren as he hid under his counter and peered out through the small cracks between the planks. The barbarians attacked with a frenzy while the skeletons slashed unmercifully with their dreadful scimitars. Sister Shadowlife chanted a continuos stream of Kryptian verses as she threw balls of life-draining Kryptian magic at her attackers. Most had no effect on Thargan, the legendary magic resistance of barbarians ringing true, but the other two younger barbarians were being steadily drained. And with each successful theft of life-force, the skeletons grew stronger and rebuilt themselves even as pieces of them were hacked off.
Darren closed his eyes, unable to watch. Krriing! Tchiang! A surging sound of Kryptian magic. "YYAARGGH!" The counter he was hiding under shuddered as a heavy body was flung unto it. Whether it was a skeleton or one of the barbarians, he was not sure.
Finally, the noise subsided and Darren opened his eyes. Perhaps they've all killed each other, he thought hopefully as he got on his knees and peered out over the counter and surveyed the scene. Bones littered the ground along with broken tables and chairs. A badly beaten Thargan struggled weakly, pinned down by three skeletons. Of the other two barbarians, Darren thought he saw no sign until he noticed that two of the skeletons holding the barbarian were wearing furs. He gulped when he saw the priestess notice him.
"Hold him," said Sister ShadowLife absently as she made her way to the bar where Darren was, stepping over the wreckage and spilt ale on the floor. "As I was saying," continued the priestess as if nothing of consequence had just happened, "We have a few questions, if you don't mind."
"Any.. anything," stuttered the wide-eyed bar-tender.
"Have you seen a warrior, cultist and a girl come by here recently? The warrior is rather old with gray in his hair and the cultist looks very much like any other of his irritating kind. The girl is about seventeen to eighteen years of age and is about this tall." She held up a hand.
"You.. you mean the young priestess with no skeletons? A group of people just like that came through here two nights ago."
A look of triumph glided over the priestesses face as she smiled. "Yes, I believe that must be the one. Except that the girl isn't a priestess."
"She.. she isn't?", asked Darren in surprise.
The priestess shook her head. "I'm afraid not. She is a runaway from our Convent of Krypta in Necroselleum." Sister ShadowLife paused in thought. "We had better continue on our way as soon as possible. They can travel far on the Kings Highway in two days."
"They're not going on the Kings Highway," blurted Darren nervously. "I heard them say that they are going into the Forest of Dreams."
Sister ShadowLife looked at Darren in surprise, as if she had now discovered that the bar-tender could think. "The Forest of Dreams? Then that is where we must go." The priestess placed a few gold coins on the bar-counter. "For your troubles."
"Come," she intoned to the three skeletons holding the barbarian as she turned to leave. The undead beings unceremoniously dropped Thargan on the floor and started towards the priestess.
Thargan looked up. "What of my brethren?" he demanded to the priestess while motioning his head to the two gaunt cadavers of his former comrades. The look he gave Sister ShadowLife was not without hate.
A thin smile broke out over Sister ShadowLife's lips. "I always believe it is fair that when you break something that belongs to another, you should replace it." With that, the priestess gestured with one hand and the skeletons lurched forwards to follow their new mistress.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
During the Age of Gods, when all the gods walked the world of Ardania as Avatars, the Avatar of Krypta and her followers, built Necroselleum upon the foothills of the great Barrier Mountains. It is said that the shadows of the mountains cover the city throughout the day, and at night, pitch darkness invades the streets, rendering it almost impossible for anyone to get around without a lantern.
Lydith could not stop staring at the huge city as it stretched out before the three travelers. They had been encountering clumps of cottages and farms in the morning and were now standing at the top of a small hill which gave them a grand view of the city.
"Look there, child." Aunt Daedra pointed to a large, gray building with red roof tiles which dwarfed its surrounding buildings. "That is the Temple of Krypta - the largest in all of Ardania. The Convent of Krypta is next to it."
Lydith spotted another large building in the city, almost the same size as the Temple of Krypta. "What building is that?", she asked as she pointed.
"That's the Sovereign's Resident Palace," replied Gameth.
"The Sovereign lives here?"
"No, the Sovereign stays in the palace only when he visits here. The palace was built over two hundred years ago during the reign of the Sovereign Solvemarin; he governed the city of Necroselleum before his ascendancy to the throne. The palace is now occupied by the current governor of the city."
"I thought the priestesses govern the city," said Lydith with a puzzled frown.
The aged warrior shook his head. "The city is officially run by the governor who is appointed by the Sovereign. Since the Age of Gods, no members of any guilds are allowed to rule a city, so the governors of every city supposedly pledge allegiance only to the Sovereign." Gameth grinned. "However, as you have pointed out, most people know who makes the real decisions in Necroselleum. Let's just say that the priestesses have a very strong influence here."
"Not all priestesses, Gameth," said Aunt Daedra. "If I had any influence here, the first thing I'll do is to tear down the Rogue's Guild. I don't know what the governor or powers-in-charge see in them."
"Ahh, my dear Daedra. You have to understand that there are always things that need to be done which you wouldn't like to be noticeably associated with," said Gameth sagely as they approached the city. "That's what rogues and thieves are for. But really, they're not all a bad lot - maybe just monetarily-inclined."
Aunt Daedra only sniffed in reply.
Despite the tales Lydith had heard about the city of Necroselleum being a priestess's city crawling with undead and other unholy creatures terrorizing the local population, the city showed no signs of supernatural activity, much to her slight disappointment. Busy merchants and travelers bustled along the streets among farmers and peasants delivering goods or heading off to some errand. Still, it was the first city she had ever been to and she found herself staring everywhere, trying to take in everything at once.
"A lot of gold must have been spent building this city," she said to Gameth as they made their way through the thronged streets. A ringing noise of steel penetrated the background chatter as they passed a large blacksmith's forge.
"Well, the governor should spend some more to build separate Guilds for warriors," grunted Gameth. "Especially after he permitted the Cult of Fervus to build one of their temples here."
One of Aunt Daedra's eyebrow's arched. "Oh? And why is that?"
Gameth grimaced. "Where you have Fervusian cultists, you get their Discords. And since we have only one Guild for warriors, those Discords have moved in with us. You try living under the same roof with those maniacs."
"Discords?" murmured Lydith with a puzzled frown.
"Warriors of Discords," answered Aunt Daedra. "They're the warrior members of the Cult of Fervus who have undergone the Rite of Transformation which supposedly makes them fearless and gives them great strength. However, it is widely rumored that the rite also makes them go slightly insane."
"Slightly!? You should have seen what one of them did to my last pair of boots! Now I can't leave anything leather lying around without it becoming a Discord's late night snack!"
The trio proceeded down the streets as Gameth continued to complain to Aunt Daedra about his alarming Guildmates. Finally, they reached the front of the large, gray building Aunt Daedra had pointed out earlier from the hill. A massive, bronze double-door with carvings of Kryptian verses and Kryptian deities stood open. Some followers of Krypta, dressed in plain red robes but not priestesses, walked out of the Temple and proceeded down the street. Lydith could not see into the gloomy darkness inside.
"I suppose this is it then," said Gameth as he too peered into the massive doorway. He turned to Lydith and Aunt Daedra. "I must say, I enjoyed traveling with you two very much. You've both made better companionship than I've had for a long time."
The aged warrior reached out to take Lydith's hand but was pleasantly surprised when Lydith hugged him instead. "I'll miss you, Gameth. Thanks for accompanying us here."
Gameth laughed, slightly embarrassed. "If you ever need me, leave word at the Warrior's Guild. They'll know how to get to me if I'm not there." He hugged her again and then turned to Aunt Daedra. A cautionary look from her made him smoothly retract his hug. "Are you going off again soon?" he asked instead.
Aunt Daedra shrugged. "It depends. I will probably be here for quite some time."
Gameth nodded. "Then I might see you again. Good luck, Lydith!" With that, the aged warrior walked back down the street and disappeared around a corner.
Aunt Daedra looked back at Lydith. "Follow me closely, child - it's easy to get lost in here," she said as she entered the doorway. Lydith took one deep breath and entered the Temple of Goddess of Death.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Tomas the Taker.
Now that was a name Tomas had not heard in a long time. As far as he knew, the man who once wore that name was now dead, buried deep into a past life which Tomas had almost started to forget.
As his consciousness slowly crept back, Tomas kept himself still while accessing his situation. The back of his head throbbed like crazy and the hard ground it now lay upon was not helping. His hands and feet were tied with what felt like rope. It was night and he could hear a fire crackling in the background. Voices sounded near to him.
"How are you so sure that it's really him, Sylas?" That voice was wavering and unsure, as if the owner was constantly indecisive.
"I've seen him before and I never forget a face, Krut. That's Tomas the Taker - and I'd bet every gold piece I have on it." Sylas's voice suggested a man with many experiences which have given him a permanent tone of cynicism.
"Well, I've only heard of him. They say that he can walk through walls and he's killed more men than all the Shadows combined."
Sylas snorted. "Ach, you believe everything that's told to you, you balding midget! The Guildmaster's Shadows, although few, are all extremely efficient and each have a list with more names in it than the Daurosian Gospels. But it is true that he's pulled off some of the most difficult assignments compared to the other Shadows."
A brief silence. The fire spluttered - one of them must have fed another stick into it.
"So what are we going to do now, Sylas?"
"We bring him back to Centuria. The Guildmaster's gonna want to see him and catch up with him with questions like how's he been doing, what's he been up to, where has he been for over ten years after disappearing mid-assignment - that sort of thing." Sylas chuckled evilly. "After that, I don't think things will get too pleasant."
Yes, definitely someone with experience. Tomas had met men like Sylas before, they were the kind that survived in the guild via selective loyalty - usually to themselves.
"Besides," continued Sylas. "At least this will keep the Guildmaster happy instead of returning empty-handed without the girl."
The girl. Lydith. Tomas thought to himself. What did they want with Lydith?
The sound of someone getting up. "Watch him in case he wakes up," came Sylas's voice. "I'm going to take a leak."
That leaves the balding midget with me, thought Tomas. Tomas peered through half-open eyelids and surveyed the area - he was lying on his side facing a fire. Krut, unsurprisingly a short man with a receding hairline, sat against a log near Tomas's feet with his side facing him. Better now than never. Tomas pursed his lips together and drew in a slight breath.
A cough sounded from the other side of the fire. Krut started and reached for his dagger. "Sylas? Is that you?"
For a moment, there was no sound apart from the fire. Then another cough sounded right next to Krut, making the man almost jump out of his skin. Krut drew out his dagger and turned his head towards the sound, away from Tomas.
Tomas rolled on his back, drew his knees up to his chest and angled his feet towards the man's head and called, "Hey, you!" A wide-eyed Krut turned his head back, just in time to see the soles of Tomas's feet smash into his face. The short man dropped his dagger and fell backwards, knocking his head against the log. Tomas scrambled towards the fallen dagger and rolled unto his back so that his hands could take it. He rapidly worked the sharp blade on the rope tying his hands, just as Krut opened his eyes in a daze and stared at him before finally registering what had just happened.
"SYLAS!", he shrieked. "HE's AWAKE!! HE'S-"
Tomas's hands came free and he flung the dagger at the panic-stricken man. The dagger spun in the air and landed with a hefty thwack! into the log just an inch from the man's head. Krut's eyes glazed over as he fainted.
Tomas reached down and quickly untied the rope secured around his feet. He got up and groaned slightly at the aches all over his body. I'm getting too old for this, he thought as he sped away from the camp-site.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was late into the night by the time Tomas stopped running. Although it was dark, Tomas had figured out roughly where he was - over ten years spent wood-cutting in this part of the forest had etched it firmly into his mind.
He stopped against a large tree and sucked in his breath noisily. It had been years since he last threw his voice like that and he was not even sure whether it would work. He gathered his thoughts together.
The Rogue's Guild of Centuria wanted Lydith. Why they wanted her remained a mystery, but Tomas knew that he had to find out. When he had gotten his breath back, he made his way through the forest again. After some time, he reached a large rock, half-covered with moss.
This must be the place. Tomas got down to his knees and started to dig. An hour passed before he finally brought an old, dirt-stained chest to the surface. He undid a leather throng serving as it's latch and carefully opened the lid of the chest. Probing his fingers along the inner edge of the lid, he located the trigger of a concealed dart trap and disabled it. He lifted the lid of the chest fully open and stared at the contents. A black leather suit with an orange-rimmed hood lay neatly folded at the bottom of the chest. Resting on it were a few small pouches, a long dagger in it's sheath, a medium-sized quiver and a crossbow.
Tomas lifted the crossbow out of the chest. It was slender and had a dark varnish rendered it almost black in the moonlight. He checked the loading mechanism, saw that it was still in working order and smiled in satisfaction. His fingers brushed against some engravings on the crossbow's handle - it was too dark to make out, but he knew that the letters spelt the word 'Taker'.
Priestesses were not the only ones who could bring someone back from the dead.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Wait here, child. I will speak to Mother Darkfriend alone before calling for you."
Aunt Daedra left Lydith in the dusky library and disappeared down a hallway. Upon entering the Temple to Krypta, Aunt Daedra had asked around Mother Darkfriend, the Convent Mother of Krypta, and they had been directed to the library where Mother Darkfriend's study was located.
From what Lydith had seen, much of the interior of the Temple was defined by the somber grayish-yellow stone that was visible from outside the building, along with dark red carpets and drapes. The Sanctuary, where they had first entered, was a huge hall, it's ceiling supported by six large pillars. High up near the ceiling were tall narrow windows which let in only minimal light. A thick, dark red carpet was spread on the floor, along with matching small cushions which Lydith presumed were kneeling cushions. An ominous, pale altar stood on an upraised portion of the floor at the end of the Sanctuary.
Many passageways led from the Sanctuary; the one they took brought them to a small gallery which itself eventually led to the Temple's library. The library looked under-maintained - books were left carelessly open on wide tables while many of the bookshelves had gaps which suggested missing volumes. Lydith stood next to a study table which had books piled up higher than herself.
"Hi, my name's Karyn. What's yours?" came a sudden whisper.
Lydith almost jumped out of her skin. She turned to the study table and saw a young girl in an Initiate's robe, half-hidden behind the pile of books. The girl was slightly thin, had shoulder-length hair and a timid but friendly look. A huge volume was open in front of her. Lydith managed a polite smile as she answered back, "My name is Lydith. Didn't see you there - you startled me when you said hi."
"Sorry about that," replied the girl sincerely. "After some time here, you tend to blend into the background."
"Oh, that's alright. I've been feeling rather jumpy ever since I got here anyway." Lydith suddenly felt that she needed a friend and Karyn seemed like a nice person. She glanced over at the huge open volume in front of the initiate. "What's that you're reading?"
"What, this? It's one of the Archives of the Order of Krypta, where they record down the names of all ordained priestesses of Krypta. I'm trying to find the correct name of a priestess which I'm sure is wrong in the Kryptian Histories although Sister Lifesteal, our history tutor, insists that it's correct even though.."
A noise from the hallway made the initiate retreat back behind her barricade of books. Aunt Daedra appeared. "Come, child. Mother Darkfriend will see you now. Remember to greet her when you see her."
Lydith looked back at Karyn who was industriously poring over her volume. She then obediently followed Aunt Daedra down the hallway, through a half-open oak door and saw her first undead.
It was about six-feet tall and was armored in a grayish-black plate mail with studded leather covering the parts which the armor did not. A grated-face helm protected a skull which had eye-sockets that glowed bright red. The undead's gauntleted hands rested upon the pommel of a huge broadsword pointed downwards, it's tip resting on the cold floor.
The undead turned it's head to face Lydith who gave a small shriek and moved behind Aunt Daedra. Aunt Daedra just glared at the undead and walked past it, guiding a terrified Lydith along.
A dry voice sounded from the other end of the study. "You have nothing to fear from Karn, child. He is completely obedient to me and will only harm those who seek to harm me."
Lydith turned to face the speaker. She saw a broad woman dressed as a priestess, just slightly shorter than Aunt Daedra. The woman could have passed for a plump and friendly innkeeper's wife, except for the hard set of her eyes and mouth that commanded discipline.
A slight, expectant movement from Aunt Daedra's head brought Lydith's senses back in a flash. "Krypta's blessings, Mother Darkfriend," she half-blurted hurriedly.
The Convent Mother of Krypta approached the two and stared intensively at Lydith. "Have you not seen an undead before, child?"
"N.. no, Mother Darkfriend."
"Then you are more fortunate than many to have seen Karn. He is my Lazari."
"What's a.. Lazari?" asked Lydith without thinking. She then realised her imprudence and bowed her head submissively.
Mother Darkfriend arched an eyebrow at the girl. "I suppose untamed curiosity should be expected from an initiate. A Lazari is better known to common fearful folk as a Death Knight. One is only bestowed by Krypta to the most loyal of her servants." Mother Darkfriend gestured at the motionless skeletal being. "Karn here was given to me long ago, as a reward for my obedience to the dread goddess."
Lydith nodded, not knowing what to say.
Mother Darkfriend continued her piercing inspection of Lydith. "Your Aunt Daedra has spoken well about you. We shall see how right she is after a few months." She paused for a moment. "What do you remember of your mother?"
"Not very much, Mother Darkfriend," replied Lydith truthfully. "I was very little when she left us."
The Convent Mother of Krypta nodded. "Your mother was a fine asset to the Order of Krypta. Her early admission to the realms of Krypta is envied by many, but her presence is still missed by us all." The Convent Mother of Krypta stared hard at Lydith. "I expect nothing more from you than to try to match up to her standards."
"Yes, Mother Darkfriend."
Mother Darkfriend then turned away and walked back to her desk. "You may go, child. Your Aunt Daedra will show you to the Initiate's Hall where you will be outfitted for your Initiate's robe. Someone there will instruct you of your daily duties." With that, she waved a hand and dismissed them.
"Come, child," said Aunt Daedra as she led her from the study. A short way back up the hallway, Aunt Daedra noticed Lydith's drab expression and gave a small laugh. "You look like you have just swallowed a toad! Smile, child - becoming a priestess does not mean you have to frown all the time."
Lydith smiled and managed a small laugh. However, she could not help but feel that in Mother Darkfriend's study, the undead Lazari Karn was staring at her throughout the entire time.