Marcus
Marcus Dolten gazed out of the carriage window, his eyes open but not truly seeing; His mind was elsewhere. It had taken him a month to prepare the journey back home and another still to reach the old estate. 'Ruin has come' His thoughts dwelled on the letter of his grandfather. It was hinted through hushed words and vile gossip that his grandfather had died. Suicide some said, no it was the gods others had said. Marcus had always known his grandfather to be strong and stubborn to a fault, so the prospect of his supposed death was questionable at best. Marcus refocused his gaze and looked down at the parchment in his hands. He felt it strange, almost humorous how a piece of paper had held the weight of a mountain in his hands. With a hint of determination he opened the letter again, even after the hundredth time the voice of his grandfather filled his head as he began to read…
"Ruin has come to our family. You remember our Venerable house, Opulent and imperial. Gazing proudly from its stoic perch above the moore. I lived all my years in that ancient rumer shadowed manner. Fattened by decadence and luxury. And yet I began to tire of conventional extravagance, singular unsettling tales suggested the mansion itself was a gateway to some fabulous and unnamable power.
With relic and ritual I bent every effort towards the excavation and recovery of those long buried secrets. Exhausting what remained of our family fortune on swarthy workmen and sturdy shovels. At last in the salt soaked cracks beneath the lowest foundations we unearthed that damnable portal and a deluvient evil.
Our every step unsettled the ancient earth, but we were in a realm of DEATH and MADNESS. In the end I alone fled laugHING and wAilinG through thOSe BLACKENED arcades ofANTIQUITY. Until consciousness FAILED me
You remember our Venerable house, Opulent and imperial. It is a festering ABOMINATION I BEG YOU! Return home claim your birthRIGHT, and deliver our FAMILY from the RAVENOUS clutching shadows of. . .THE DARKEST DUNGEON."
A frown had formed upon his features after he finished reading. It was plain to see that as the letter went on, the writing became more sporadic almost like something unnatural had come over him while he wrote. Marcus pushed away his fears, they wouldn't help. It was then he looked across the carriage to see his other companions, Reynauld and Dismas. Reynauld wore old and battered chainmail with a surcoat fashioned to show the church of Light. Holy seals, pages of prayers, and a cross all adorned the armor, though in the dim lighting of dusk it was hard to notice the rust. Marcus had known the pius brother to be a rather joyful companion, but it was not his jests he needed… 'A mighty sword arm anchored by holy purpose.' Dismas was a stark contrast to Reynauld. Where one would laugh and be optimistic the other would be silent, arms crossed and aloof. Dismas was garbed in a worn overcoat laden with holes from stabs, tares, and abuse. The rest of him was all in black, save for a dark blue scarf that covered his neck up to his mouth along with a set of matching gloves. Dismas's choice weapons were a flintlock and an old dirk. Dismas was graced with a hard face coupled with scowl lines and a scared lower lip though the scarf did not show it. Marcus did not trust the Highwayman, only that the gold he had paid before and promised later would earn his loyalty, as fickle as it was already. Trusting sell swords and hired guns only meant you'd have protection provided you were on the winning side. The Vows and oaths that the crusader had sworn gave him little comfort, but for now that would be enough.
All of them stared out into the thick brush of the forest as they traveled on the old road. The glass of the carriage was filthy at best but it gave Marcus some modicum of relief as this would be the day of arrival. The trip had its faults here and there but they were never molested by malicious forces as they went to the estate. Marcus began to doze off, the long ride tiring him immensely. A loud bang was heard outside, startling all of them from their seats of leisure. A painful yelp could be heard and then a crack of a whip which sent the horses into a gallop. The carriage shook and groaned almost in anger as the horses spurred ever forward away from an unseen foe. Another shot was fired, following the sound of the driver falling off with a thud upon the ground. The Horses did not stop, going faster and faster till they ran off the old road into the forest only to hit the carriage against a pile of stones causing the horses to break free and bolt away.
For a few tense moments Marcus could swear he had broken something, possibly someone. The impact had smashed the side of carriage but all of them were alright save for a few new bruises from the tumble. Placing a hand on his head, Marcus opened his eyes to see the other two swiftly exiting the carriage. After a moment to readjust himself he stepped out as well. He wasn't sure how far they had gone off road but it was clear they must be on alert. The Forest was deftly quiet, there were no birds singing nor toads or crickets to play their merry tunes, only a small breeze that rustled the leaves before quickly exiting.
"I don't like this at all," Dismas unsheathed his dirk and drew the flintlock while drawing closer to Reynauld. "They could be hiding anywhere."
"Indeed," Reynauld looked at Marcus before continuing. "They shall not find us easy prey my lord."
Marcus looked at him for a brief moment before giving him a nod and gesturing them onward. Marcus Watched the two leave the way they had all come before turning back to the carriage. Alone in the dusk of day as the light ever dwindled away. Bandits he had expected, but it was then when he was all alone that the forest came back alive, in a darker sense. The creeks of old trees, wolves howling in the distance and others sounds he did not recognize but liked no less. "Marcus…" a whisper of a voice touched his ears, sending chills up his spine. He spun around drawing a blade of his own, a one and half bastard sword, only to find nothing. "Marcus…" Again the voice nipped at him from the dark. His heart pounding in his chest as he frantically searched the trees. The darkness seemed to seep into the area where he stood, making him grip the blade tighter. It was gnawing at the back of his mind, he knew that voice but where? "MARCUS!" He turned again to see a hooded figure stepping out of the brush into the clearing. The man held a short sword in his right hand and walked slowing forward.
"Dispatch this thug in brutal fashion so that all may hear of your arrival!"
As if to answer the call to arms, both men went at each other blades clashing once, twice, a third and final time as Marcus disarmed the bandit. It was only now that Marcus had noticed his opponents features. Like the forest around him, his skin held the mark of corruption, a sickly green with fungus upon his cheeks and white milky eyes. "Whah?" before he could get another word out the man grabbed Marcus by the throat with unnatural speed, his eyes changing from white to pitch black, almost burning around the socket.
"Our god will swallow this world, and your precious light that you hold so high will be no more!" its jaw began to unhinge releasing foul odors and jagged misshapen teeth. Marcus raised the pommel of his sword hitting the side of the man, causing him to loosen his grip. He then struck the Bandit with his other fist making him stammer away before driving the sword deep in the man's gut, twisting and then pulling away.
Marcus looked down on the dying thing, as he wondered with horrified curiosity of how such corruption had entered into this man.
"A bargain made in desperation is often followed by crippling regret."
Marcus looked up to see a ghost. No, not a ghost, it was his grandfather! "Grandpa Yurien! I had… you-" the words stuck in his throat. So many emotions flared up all at once, relief and joy but also anger, and loneliness. He wasn't sure what to feel at the moment. It was all too much to think rationally about. His thoughts were cut short as his grandfather spoke up.
"Well done Marcus"
"How?" was his reply.
"Mastery over life and death was chief among my early pursuits. When you had left on your adventures it reminded me of my own stubborn and roguish ways, and as
time began to eat away at my body, I feared for what might be on the other side. I began in humility, but as you can see before you, we- or rather I have succeeded in a manner of speaking." Marcus gave no reply, simply staring harder, eyes narrowed with further confusion, waiting for elaboration. "Necromancy."
There was a long pause. The church had outlawed such things as heretical and blasphemous and even those who were not as dogmatic, like Marcus, still believed the practice to be unnatural.
"You are not sure how you feel about that, I understand. Being in this state of limbo is both my salvation and my curse. While I escape judgment, I still bare the full weight of all my folly in their purest forms. My grief and regret, a knife in the dark. In time you will know the tragic extent of my failings." The anguish in his voice was evident, laden with guilt deeper than any ocean. Marcus heard the rustling of foliage and branches breaking. Marcus shifted his gaze over to it for a brief moment before looking back, but his Yurien was gone.
Dismas and Reynauld emerged, their weapons bloody and bodies showing clear signs of fatigue. "We have found the way back, the Hamlet is just ahead, my lord."
"Are either of you injured?" Marcus asked, his concern professional. "No, my lord, except for Dismas' pride." Reynauld gave a small cackle of a laugh as he clasped his friends shoulder. Dismas said nothing, opting for a glare instead. "We went up against two men, one as small as a dwarf and the other taller than a horse. It's a wonder how those two ended up together eh?" Reynauld gave Dismas a nudge of the elbow as he chuckled before continuing. "We took them without much of a fuss but it was after the fight where we had a little surprise. After spotting the Hamlet from the ridge Dismas looked down only to find a snake slithering across his boots. It was a small enough thing but Dismas was so scared he jumped and blasted the poor creature with his pistol." Marcus was smirking at that and Reynauld was into a hearty laugh by now.
"Do me a favor and lose your sense of humor" Dismas replied with ice in his voice.
"Do what you do best and steal one!"