"Uh, look, I get it..." Carrie-Anne says from my back, "You're not happy without your little paladin security blanket, but this place is still dangerous. There might not be quite as many of those brain-dead soldiers stumbling around, but there are still some, and we could encounter another large group at any time. We don't have much farther left to go. You can have your sword back then."

"No." I say, with absolute certainty as I continue to glare at the horizon. "I need it back right now."

The crow blinks and turns in the same direction, narrowing her eyes. "What's with you? I'm sure that I've got way better eyes than you, and I don't see anything over there."

"I don't see it either." I answer back, unblinking, "But that doesn't mean that it isn't there."

"What, exactly do you think is over there?"

"I don't know." I say, growling softly, tail angrily twitching behind me, "I just know that it's something that needs to die."

There's a dull thunk as I'm broken out of my strange trance. The sound comes from the sword falling to my feet. I look to it, somewhat surprised, and then back to the smiling rat. I thought that she'd make some similar objections, and I couldn't fault her for it, either. I know that I'm being unreasonable, but I just can't help it. I just know that there's something over there... or maybe a lack of something. Whatever it is, it's wrong. Not in the sense of being sick or damaged or greedy or any of the other flaws which exist among all things, it's far more than that. That's why I can't even tell if it's really a 'something'. It's more like the antithesis of everything. A negative shape. Something which, somehow, I know deep down, cannot be allowed to exist.

"I've never seen you like this before." Vile says to me, still smiling her twisted smile which looks downright flawless compared to the strange overwhelming sense that comes from directly in front of me. "I've got to be honest: As much as I'm a fan of your whole naive and innocent schoolgirl routine, this more determined side of you is pretty hot. Carrie isn't wrong, though. I don't really want to deal with any more walking corpses, so whatever you need us to do, we'd better do it quickly."

I smile back to her, and look to Slave who also gives an affirmative nod. I can tell that they can't feel what I'm feeling. If any of them could, there'd be no hint of confusion on their part, and the only matter up for debate would be whether we should head towards it, or run away from it as fast as we can. That might have even been a difficult argument for me to win. Her trust means a lot to me, though, especially since I know that she's not the type to easily trust others. She didn't even hesitate to let me lead us into... I don't even know what.

I should be worried, not just for the safety of myself, but also that of my allies, but instead I only feel determined. Maybe it's my paladinhood that's drawing me to it, but, much like how Vile has chosen to trust me, these powers have given me far too much to second-guess them. I replace my sword sheath quite easily (which is fortunate, as it would have been awkward, on multiple levels, if I needed to spend too much time fumbling with it), and begin to walk. Slave follows just a few paces behind, while Carrie remains standing atop my back. While clearly rather confused about the situation, she makes no further objections. As strange as the situation might be, she seems to recognize that I'm determined, and not just obeying a simple whim.

The warnings of my new ally prove to be true. There are no shortage of undead ahead, but any that impede our path I simply cut down with a divine strike without even slowing my pace. They aren't very densely packed, the larger groups wandering over to where we had previous hidden, and are dispatched easily enough. I still can't see anything, but I can feel it... or maybe I can't feel it. It's like coldness, but not just to the touch. Rather it's applied to sights and sounds and smells, it was like everything is stripped away, but rather than simple numbness, something... something unnatural remains in its place. This awful, alien sensation only grows stronger with every step that I take.

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Even the others start to feel it, I think. No where near as intensely as I had, and I'm not even sure if they are consciously aware of it, but they grow more tense, less comfortable, even as nothing visibly changes around them. And that's when we finally reach him. Or at least something shaped like a 'him', even if it feels more like a void than an actual man.

Appearance-wise he isn't too unusual, particularly not for this place. His armor might have been in far better condition than the other countless nameless, shambling soldiers, but it's still rusted, broken and bloodied, even if portions still show signs of its former might and splendor. His back is turned, and there's a great kite-shield set across it, painted with the now faded coat-of-arms of some unknown house, the image not merely scratched through, but ruined by a pair of crisscrossing gouges which have torn deep into the metal in an 'x' shape.

The not-man stands atop what was likely once a grand altar or shrine, but little more than a couple of weathered, elevated stone steps remain, leading to a crumbled, ancient table or tablet or who-knows-what at the center, clearly something designed with purpose long ago, now just a pile of old debris. There are no other walls or furnishings, but the carved floor isn't bare, instead littered with corpses. Normally, this would have horrified me, but they aren't so different from the countless others which walk these lands. Minus the walking, of course. Sure, they're fresher than most, but still withered enough that they had little sense of humanity to them, most wearing armor, a few in tattered and bloodied non-protective clothing. They all lay as still as... well, as still as corpses, I suppose.

At least they did at first. The not-man spreads his arms, extending the fingers of his cracked gauntlets, and a strange, dark smoke emanates from them, splashing across the floor, flowing over top the dead before quickly dissipating. That's when the dead things (calling them 'people' no longer feels appropriate), begin to move. They don't stand up right away, they clearly can't, in fact, and are like newborns, lacking coordination, simply moving their stiffened joints once more on reflex, but they figure it out soon enough. That's about all that they would figure out, however, as the simply, mindlessly, shambled away.

That's when the not-man turns to me, and reveals his not-quite-living face. Sure, by all rights, he should have been dead. I can clearly see half of the former man's skull through the tattered and rotted flesh, and only half of his lips remain. None of the wounds bleed in the slightest, and his face, at least the portion of it which still has some flesh upon it, doesn't bear the empty, slack-jawed expression of so many in these lands. No, he actually smiles a little, as his eyes locked upon me. Sure, half of his face might have remained, all of it visible beneath a bronze circlet, both both eyes, the flesh surrounded one as well as the empty socket, glow with a malevolent blue spark.

"Well... isn't this something." it says, in a low yet disturbingly human voice which makes my blood run cold. I wasn't the only one, either. "Looks like they'll make just anyone a paladin these days."

Warning! Severe threat detected!

"Fuck..." Vile simply says. Although I would normally criticize her choice of language, at the moment, I can't deny that it feels completely appropriate.

"I was getting a little tired of dealing with human corpses... this place could use a little more bio-diversity." he grins his unnatural grin. All things considered, he looks rather conventional. Relatively speaking, of course. Hardly a far cry from so many of the other undead that we had encountered, but that distinct sense of 'wrongness' doesn't go away. If anything, it becomes even stronger. He leans forward, extending a metal mitted hand which surely holds little more than bones underneath, and beckons to me with it, softly whistling in a way that he shouldn't have even been capable.

If any human had done that, I'd have struggled to resist the allure of attention and pets. In this case, however? It's the furthest thing from my mind as I leap backwards, pulling my sword from my sheath, growling around it. As for the not-man, he simple gives a bemused chuckle as he rises back up to his full, rather intimidating height, drawing his own blade. It's similar to mine in appearance, at least at first. It couldn't have looked much different, moments later when it was suddenly engulfed by black flames.

---

Vile: "We're in a pretty bad situation here... if only someone could save us!"

Bully: ...

Vile: "Bully! I knew you'd come back to me!"

Carrie-Anne: "Um, you know that this section is non-canon, right?"

Vile: "Don't you dare take this away from me!"