----------------------------------------
My old clan arrived and made camp well outside the barrow entrance. They came bearing a new banner of a fallen star emblazoned on a cowhide. Funny, we hadn’t used symbols like that back in the day. Didn’t use symbols at all. How much time had passed?
At any rate, these distant relations arrived alongside another two camps. They were stone carvers, our old nemeses. The groups arrived early in the morning when my growing horde could not step into the sun. The timing was impeccable, and they spent the rest of a long summer day constructing a semi-circular barrier of stones around the barrow entrance.
They were boxing me in. Creating a seal over the barrow. I would remain, safe and 'alive' in my subterranean lair, but none would enter the barrow, even by mistake.
It appeared those two treasure hunters I spared to tell the tale had spread the word of my haunted dungeon a bit too far and wide. Now everyone in the valley had marshalled to seal off the forbidden dungeon.
I had a wight who still had his eyes mostly intact venture to the edge of the barrow entrance, lurking in the shadows. He peered out, and I observed through his sight. It was a little trick I’d happened upon, a way the old she-lich had spied upon my party as we’d ventured through her lair.
The people of Starfall – as I would later learn our now-permanent settlement was called, were calling the shots. Stone carvers provided their expertly chiseled stone blocks to the endeavor, while members of my old clan performed more of an overseer’s role. Ah, so the union was not entirely willing on the stone carver’s parts.
Work on the scale required to build a sealing wall around the barrow entrance would take days of effort. Light would prevent us from interfering with the construction, but my minions could always venture out at night. To resolve this, the crews worked in shifts, with many workers operating by torchlight, under armed guard, through the night.
While I was not out to slay and claim souls for the sake of it yet, I wasn’t about to let the barrow be sealed entirely for the outside world. My heart (what was left of it) held up hope that one day I could escape from here. But to do that, I would need to prevent this wall from sealing us all in.
At night we – well, I – made my move.
Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!
----------------------------------------
The repurposed deer slunk out to the entry hall of the barrow. Its bleating sounded alarmingly alien even when it was alive. With months of decay, they sounded like a particularly anguished cry for help.
It cried out into the night. Its bleating was arresting, even to my cold, dead heart. The length of the tunnel caused it to echo, distorted the cry.
Sure enough, one of the many guards, torchlight in hand, came to investigate. He approached cautiously, too cautious to venture past the third tressel holding the ceiling up.
I had accounted for this. Two of the more recently acquired wights slunk out of divots in the ceiling at this too-curious onlooker’s back.
There was a scuffle, unheard by the other guards. Then, some minutes later, another call for help echoed out of the barrow. This one proved strangely familiar to the guards, two of whom entered the barrow never to return.
With half the night shift guards dealt with, my wights grew bolder. They ventured out of the tunnel and skulked around the partially constructed barrier. Our converted guards went first, as they could pass as still among the living. Slowly, stealthily, I guided them to slay the remaining guards.
With the Starfall guards slain by their own reanimated comrades, the remainder of my paltry horde emerged from the barrow. They could range where I could not. With four hours until sunrise, they set upon the workers at their night shift. Then, joined by the full force of guards and as many night workers as were in range to reanimate, they set upon the camp of workers still asleep in their tents and cots.
It was a bloody massacre with no survivors. When it was over, I ordered my minions to haul each body into the barrow and swiftly went about reanimating. It would take all day to convert our haul, but I had nothing but time.
Overseers from the old village returned shortly after sunrise. What they found was a ruined camp, a half-finished barrier wall, and no bodies at all. It was as if their entire workforce had disappeared in the night. A prairie breeze whistled through the barrow, inviting them to investigate.
Though heavily armed, none of the overseers dared enter the burrow to investigate. None even ventured past the broken wall. Cowardly of them, but definitely wise.
Meanwhile, my fledgling army of barrow wights had increased fourfold that day!
----------------------------------------
I threw a mock celebration, though my charges were hardly the life of any party. Poor Yona’s right arm had fallen off the week prior from natural decay. And Gavrin’s jaw went missing somewhere in the bedlam. I couldn’t possibly risk sending a wight out to go search for it in the light of day. It would be a futile search, and what was left of Gavrin didn’t mind.
The barrow received a new, fell reputation among the living that day. It also gained some additional ambiance. A veritable front patio, with a shaded entrance and a half-finished semicircular wall. And I gained a newfound horde, alongside some inspiration to continue expanding my domain.
----------------------------------------