Sitting in the shallow landscape is a sprawling patch of interconnected buildings. The architecture of these grandiose constructions is only rivaled by the artwork that covers them. Intricate statues and carved surfaces cover everything. Perched on a hillside overlooking the temple is a statue honoring the gods—a marker for the entrance to the halls of ancient dead.
As Dedrick steps into the sunlight he looks over the rolling hill and sees his home. A single thought crosses his mind, face and lips.
“Are we too late?”
Ozzob steps to his side, “I see no activity.”
Leone adds, “Perhaps we are too late.”
Dedrick fights back his tears by tearing a path down the hillside to the temple. He rushes forward with reckless abandon; a fear wells up from inside. Many subtle actions can define how a person runs, this sprint is the embodiment of haste; an attempt to catch the fleeting hope for a chance to save the one you love.
The haze clears, Dedrick swipes the sweat from his face. A figure lies motionless on the floor sprawled out on the steps that enter the central courtyard. Dedrick approaches the form, Ozzob and Leone are moments behind. The dead person is a student of the temple.
“This was one of my students… we are too late.” Dedrick collapses to his knees.
Ozzob grabs Dedrick’s arms and twists his body so their faces reflect, “Do not give up hope until you see your brother dead. Now get up and help me look for him.”
Leone presses forward into the entrance.
#
In the central courtyard six bodies lie motionless, two are dressed as students, the others wear rough clothes that suggest common brigands. The are is open air with the sky overhead. A series of columns stand a few feet from each wall of the room; a square of support structures for the interconnecting roofs. The courtyard adds an air of humility and openness that stands in stark contrast to the moist confines of the temple interiors. Dedrick knells beside one of the foreigners and clasps his clothing.
“These men killed my friends, my family…”
Ozzob kneels beside him firmly adding, “and we will not let it stand.”
Leone scans the room carefully; no sign of life.
“Faced with the end, where would your brother have fled?”
“The Ancient Hall.”
Dedrick looks up; his eye line points the way.
#
Six doors line each wall of the Ancient Hall, a grandiose throne sits atop a section or raised marble flooring at the end of the passage. The room is lifeless; devoid of any useful sights or sounds. Dedrick barely slows as his glace surveys the room; he approaches the fourth door on the right side of the hall. In a practiced, effortless motion he swings open the portal to reveal a large bedroom. Dedrick freezes for a moment as he laments something that is not there, this is obviously his brothers room. Ozzob walks past and inside to look around for clues; the room dose not answer any of the questions that hang, chained to the mood in the air.
Trying to open the next door along the hall reveals an obstruction; for all his attempts, Dedrick is unable to open the way. The door eventually opens, under the combined efforts of the three, but only a bit. A pale, lifeless arm flops to the ground; contorted through the sleight opening. After a moment of hesitation their efforts double and the portal gives way enough to look into the room.
Three dead men, dressed in the same style of rugged clothing as the other attackers lie charred and twisted at the base of the doorway. Deeper inside the room four more bodies lie motionless. Two are students of the school, the other two are brigands. The scene spells out a fight to the last drop of life. The valiant efforts of the outnumbered students would forever lay in waste; there wounds would not allow them to leave this battlefield alive.
Regrouped in the hall, Dedrick and Ozzob exchange looks that say more than any audible words ever could. This place is dead, this same scene will be repeated through the school, it may altered in ambiance but the end result will not be different. Looking to the next door, fearing what may be laying dead on the other side; Dedrick takes one final look to salvation, the courtyard doorway. The path is an escape route leading back into a world where breaths would come easier and the stress of searching in vain would not exist.
Slowly, as a vision from a dream, a figure begins to cross the open courtyard doors. The person is familiar, an unmistakable profile silhouetted in the daylight. Dedrick shakes his head to free himself of this vision, but it dose not release. Ozzob steps to his side and acknowledges the event. A tiny realization sparks inside Dedrick’s soul as he realizes that his brother is actually standing before his eyes, alive.
Dedrick calls out, “Sellak! My brother. Your alive.”
The figure continues to limp past the doorway.
The three companions share a perplexed glance; in unison they approach the form of Sellak.
“Brother? Are you well?”, he reaches forward with trembling hands.
Just before Dedrick makes contact, his bother stops moving and turns to look; it is as if he can only move one group of muscles at a time. The perfect silhouette that identified Sellak is broken by the jagged edges of cracked flesh. The area of his face that had been concealed until now is vile—corrupted by the poison of un-death. He is rotted, though not as intense as the hand carried by Ozzob.
A meek voice breaks from Sellak’s lips, “Come with me… Brother.”
Hands, encrusted with dried blood, raise to embrace Dedrick. He bats down the inviting maw with his fist. Terror falls in waves as his realization fades. His brother is dead, and he was not here to die with him. A peculiar thunk draws the attention of the three as they retract into the Ancient Hall. The lifeless arm that had been extended into the hall was now animate and attempting to circumvent the door. Ozzob and Dedrick flee down the hall, catching up with Leone. The companions are madly looking for escape from whatever madness has plagued the flesh of the dead; they seek refuge within the private chambers of the temple master.
#
In the darkness of the room a sleight padding sound is keyed. In a flash Dedrick summons his spirit blades and leaps into the dark corner. The sound of hard shoes against the floor is overwhelmed by the noises of tearing flesh. Several loud thuds fill the room, followed by more sounds of slicing flesh. Slowly, a figure peaks into the natural light and falls out in the floor.
The tandem of Dedrick and Leone has dismembered this brigand, but the corpse continues to retain a thread of life—moving its torso and head. A final blow is sent to the back of the monsters neck, the spirit blade pierces flesh and stone. The weapon, released from Dedrick’s grasp, retains it form and pins the foul creation to the ground.
“What is going on here?” questions Dedrick as he pounds his fists together.
“I do not know. Everything is most strange.”
Ozzob reaches up to the ceiling and snaps his fingers; a few moments pass before the others are enlightened by his actions. The sorcerers familiar floats into the room under a cloud of caution.
“This is a delightfully unpleasant place.” Squeaks Serphyn in a thin voice.
“Yes, and we need answers.”
Serphyn floats down to the floor and closely inspects the, now inanimate, corpse. After a few pokes and prods to ensure the state of death Serphyn returns to Ozzob.
The pixie says “You could look through his blood...”
Leone and Dedrick share a perplexing stare.
“And discover the rest of them.”
The familiar’s master concedes to the logic and kneels down beside the dead body; he places both hands on the corpses chest and closes his eyes.
#
The world looks plastered, drained of color. I can see a form kneeling above a corpse. It is me, at this moment. Time drains backward and I see myself walking into the room. I do not focus on me, but remain tied to this corpse. Time rolls backward until a point is reached where this brigand is still alive. His death blow comes first, a mighty psionic strike delivered by one of the temple patrons. Events fold out in reverse; I see the brigand break from the flurry of battle and sneak into the room. A man, his killer, is asleep in the bed.
This
psion, destined to kill my avatar, must be the Grand
Master Tolvis; perhaps he is still alive in the
present. My vision recedes down the
ancient hall, fifty attackers have crept into the
temple sanctuary. Time rolls back
faster, the group of brigands overpower the morning watch with ease. The sun creeps back down, hiding its head to
reveal the previous night. A camp, some
miles from the
Engrossed at the complications presented by this wizards presence, I am compelled to focus my attention on him. The flow of time reflects my will as I watch the events of his morning unfold. Nothing of consequence happens until daybreak. This wizard holds up a staff and chants in some language that I do not understand. Moments pass as the skies darken, a great massed lightning bolt strikes the ground in a burst of sparks. The land taints and a crack begins to form.
Hours pass and the crack becomes a chiasm, deep, far into the depths of the world. Then I realize the purpose of this passage. This magical tunnel is not simply deep, it penetrates the sub-surface of the world. I can still remember the horrors that plagued our construction of the transport system so long ago; this was a summoning ritual. A calling of an evil that would destroy us.
A thunderous rush of air expels from the gaping crack. Waves of air fall across the wizard, damp and warm; the breath of the dark walker. I can see massive hand grab at edge of the crack; in moments it is joined by another. The volume of one hand is greater than that of the wizards body. The creature frees its self from the earth and stands in glorious pestilence. Over the height of five men it is a fearsome beast; a reason to know fear. The wizards issues a single command to the beast; it turns and hastily runs in the direction of the temple.
I
freeze time in my vision, my viewpoint races across the open hills, back to
myself. I am kneeling over the corpse of
my avatar. The creature will be here in
moments.
#
Stone crashes onto stone, planes of rock begin to fall from the ceiling; a ruinous collage of ash and rubble is created under the dark walkers beating fist. The fury of a hundred warriors is delivered with every strike, a blast echoes with every swing; the rock, the stones, this ancient structure crumbles under the force of this evil that has risen from the sub-surface of the world. The people that called this place home are no longer able to defend it; they now lumber as the living dead, arisen by an even darker evil.
As the beast tears a path of chaos and destruction across the temple it approaches the courtyard outside the ancient hall. The awkward walking posture of this creature exposes its head to the sorcerer Ozzob first; he has been waiting in the open ground for this challenge. Dedrick and Leone huddle in a side passage at the head of a dozen dismembered bodies that still slink and flail about on the ground. With the first glimpse of the monster Ozzob points one hand at the ground and one hand skyward; the earth begins to churn beneath the sorcerers feet. The ground blackens and the sparse blades of grass wither.
At the point of ultimate exposure Ozzob looses the pent up energy sapped from the ground and sends a thick bolt of light at the creatures under-jaw. The black flesh of the beast cracks apart and sizzles under the pressure; the damage dose little to delay the dark walker from its task. Ozzob looks to the ground and points out a circle on the dirt with his hand, he then steps inside it. A giant fist strikes beyond the courtyard and crushes the entrance to the ancient hall; a mass of stone fills the void as the creatures hand lifts for another strike. Man-sized chips of craved rock fall from the creature as it lurches over the courtyard; one drops directly in front of Ozzob, he remains motionless on the circle of ground.
Before the creature is able to unleash its next attack the piece of ground that Ozzob had outlined breaks free from the earth and flies into the air. Standing face to face with this beast Ozzob looks to the sky and utters a single word. The sorcerer directs a seething view at the beast as lightning flashes cross the clear sky; the energy streaks dance in the air, approaching from all directions, converging at a point high above the courtyard. Ozzob raises his hand and then points a single arced finger at the beast; this catalyst unleashes the cloudless energy in the form of a massive, jagged bolt.
Sizzles fill the air as the bolt splits open the dark walkers skins at the impact point. The bolt splits; veins of electricity speed under the skin of the creature. The bolts split more and more and finally pass through the creatures limbs as it braces against the crushed stone of the temple. A black sludge oozes from hundreds of locations on the creature. Sensing the vulnerability and fearing another attack the beast swats Ozzob from his perch, the sorcerer plummets to the ground and impacts with a loud thump.
The dazed sorcerer looks about to reorient himself in the courtyard. A shadow arcs across the ground; a killing blow. His companions look on from just inside the side passage as Ozzob kneels down in the center of the courtyard and raises one hand above his head. A single instant later a rock that seems to block out the sky crashes atop the sorcerer; Ozzob begins the crumple under the weight, but the stone splinters and falls away to the sides. A circle of shattered stone cuts off any possible escape.
Ozzob reaches down a grabs a smaller fist sized stone fragment; after a moment of concentration the stone emits a feint glow and rockets off to the sky leaving a smoke trail. High above the courtyard it explodes into a blinding sparkle; the dark walker bellows a hideous groan and begins the thrash out at the nearby structures. Ozzob again looks to the ground and rises up on another small circle of earth that has broken free.
The relentless sorcerer looks to a nearby hill and reaches forward with one hand; he takes a firm grasp on nothing. His second hand follows and takes another firm grip on the air; the sorcerers floating precipice slides forward as Ozzob tugs on the air. The creatures vision clears and it locks a firm gaze on the sorcerer, floating above the opposite end of the courtyard. The creature reaches down and rips free an even larger stone; Ozzob tugs furiously at the air and finally it begins to break loose.
Transfixed on the nearby hill, two large embossed squares begin to protrude from the landscape. At first Ozzob strains with the weight as he commands a giant pyramid shaped rock with each hand; the disorientation passes just in time for him to turn around and witness the beast hurl the massive carved stone at him. The creature made a poor selection and is unable to send the stone the full distance; it crashes harmlessly into the courtyard.
Ozzob commands a formidable weight at the helm of the flying stone shards; he lunges forward on his precarious perch, fists clenched. The stone shards fly like bullets from the hillside and strike the beast, knocking the dark walker to the ground. Relentless and unyielding the stones fly forward for another strike; the beast is knocked down by the first and skirted across the ground by the second. A third volley pummels the dark walker and the beast falls outside the carved stone grounds of the temple.
Barely
able to move and unwilling to defend its self the creature is struck by a final
blow in the chest; one of the stone weapons commanded by Ozzob
penetrates the foulness and ends the dark walkers life. Black sludge mingles with the green grass
outside the temple; a fitting, final rest for a beast
that should have never seen this worlds daylight.
#
“No
man could vanquish this beast. Who is
this, and what have we forgotten?” Questioned the voice of
the dark.