As thanks for the rare and precious gift of your hospitality, welcoming me to your hearth and home, when none before you have dared, I shall bestow my favor upon this youngling, next in line to carry the proud sigil of your house. As the seasons wax and wane, he will grow to sense my presence in every shadowed corner and sunlit glade. With eager hands reaching, and his voice echoing my name across the lands, he will endlessly seek me out and tempt me with offerings numbering in the thousands.

Yet, I will forever deny him my direct gaze, turning my countenance aside, and my eyes shall never lower to meet his. He will never know my caress, though he will yearn for it with every fiber of his being. That is my gift.

- The Beloved of Death - The Tale of the Undying King, found in the notes of the playwright Vlan di Panoli.

I was being mauled by a massive toad, its clawed webbed feet attempting to rip me apart. Luckily, I was protected by my heavy armor, but no matter how I struggled, I simply could not move. I was trapped like an upturned beetle beneath a larger predator.

Thankfully, my companions came to the rescue, with one of them bodily forcing it off with a powerful attack. Still, disorientated, it took me a precious few seconds to regain my footing.

Looking for the monster that had knocked me over, I saw Cordelia fighting with yet another threat. She was dancing with a large ‘bull’ Sandgorger, weaving a shimmering pattern of steel with her sword as she deflected its horrible tongue and parried its long horn. Her face was set in lines of grim concentration. Strong and skilled as she was, this was no competition set in stone. Too far away, and in no position to help directly, it took all of my concentration to cast a Drain at her adversary to help turn the tide in her favor.

There was a low rumbling and the earth shook. I was unmanned for a moment, my body stock still, my mind recalling memories of a time underground in the bowels of the earth. Vibrations threaded themselves through the desert sands, and the river itself formed waves that crashed against its banks. The shaking grew stronger until it was impossible to keep my balance or stay on my feet.

Suddenly, all about me was the very white stuff of the desert as something erupted from deep beneath, roaring with the ferocity of an unleashed gale. I saw a glimpse of what looked like a collection of massive serpent’s scales and spikes, only of a titanic size, rising through the eruption of blinding sand. Futilely, I shouted my companion’s name against the storm, in a panicked reaction, my single voice silenced by the cacophony.

Then there was a sensation of falling, as if I was slipping through the earth itself. Something heavy collided against my head, causing my skull to ring, but I was able to keep my consciousness. Almost on reflex, I tried to cast a Heal, but the mastery of its divine energies completely eluded me. System messages flashed across my vision as I fell, pulled along deeper into a river of sand and darkness.

Writhing sand dragged me deeper, working its way into my helm, and I spat and choked upon it before deciding to firmly close my eyes and mouth. I flailed trying to grab onto anything to arrest my descent, but could only grab the stuff of the desert, the fine grains sifting through my armored fingers.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, it stopped, and I had stopped as well. I shook my head and tried to move my left arm, but felt nothing. Next, I tried to get up, but I felt that my lower half was covered with more of the damn sand. Timidly, I opened my eyes, afraid of what I would or would not find. Seeing only black, I reached for my helm with my right hand, and cleared out the earth and sand that had been blocking my visor. With my vision slightly clearer, it still took a while for my eyes to adjust to the gloom.

At first, I could discern nothing save for varying degrees of pitch black, but slowly I saw that the area I was in was lit by a low purple glow. What new hell had my blasted luck taken me to? I thought to myself. Was this the price one had to pay for trying to be a hero? For simply trying to help people by ridding the world of a few monsters? Thoughts of being buried alive intruded upon my mind, but I forced them down with a flare of anger. Behind I could hear the sound of moving sand, like a snake that was tasting the air for its prey.

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I rose to my feet, only to realize that my left arm hung limply at my side. Without thinking, I quickly cast a Heal, grimacing as sensation returned, and the limb popped back into place. A cursory glance at my Status showed I was a little worse for wear, with my Health at around seventy percent.

The air was cool here. The soft purple luminescence of this area was caused by veins of rock that threaded through the stone walls. Grunting, I shook my head and began exploring. A few moments later, I tripped over a rock and fell flat on my face. Cursing, I wasted energy by punching the ground, only to notice a glint of metal in the poor light. I reached for the metal, and a grin lit my face. It was my weapon.

You have gained 1 Luck.

With hope filling me from the return of my weapon, I cut the air a few times with it in mute celebration. Yes, I was once again trapped under the earth, and my stout shield was lost to me. Still, I was not only armored but armed with a fine and deadly weapon. The system of this world agreed with me, did it not? For it saw my current state as fortuitous and had rewarded me with a point in Luck.

Reunited with my sword, I decided to take a quick inventory. Panic’s shadow hovered at the edge of my thoughts, threatening to unman me. It was actually the dire nature of my situation that forced a focus of thought, of a sort anyway, to give me some semblance of functionality. The bag at my side was filled with a few victuals, jerky and hard biscuit wrapped in dried leaf, and my water flask was half-full. Exploring about myself with my trembling hands, and by dint of some much-needed luck, I found my fancy crossbow still strapped about my person. The small quiver filled with bolts was, however, lost to me, no doubt swallowed up by the earth itself.

For a few moments, I took the time to think of my companions and their fate. Had they survived whatever it was that had attacked us? For I was sure it was something, rather than just a natural disaster. And the people of the caravan—what of them?

A drop of water from the ceiling splashed against my face, surprising me. This was followed by an unnatural sound, a low moan that was then taken up by another like it. Suddenly what was one voice turned into a chorus. My bladder grew weak, and the hair of my nape stood up in fear at whatever new horror I would be forced to face.

Cautiously, I moved forward as stealthily as my armor would allow, which, I realized with no small amount of regret, was not stealthy at all. Straining my ears, I imagined I heard the clack of metal feet moving across the sand and stone ground.

Then I saw it. Two orbs that glowed a menacing red set in its skull. The thing was humanoid, with stick-thin arms that held a comically-large khopesh that gleamed with a silvery light. It was armored in some sort of dull metal that seemed much too big for its slight form. Could it be what I thought it was?

I had already gone through the valley of fear, and a portion of a measured clinical calm had settled upon me, the vestiges of my residual panic forced back by necessity. Quickly, I cast an Identify on the aberration before me, wishing to confirm my suspicions.

Praxis Guard [Undead lvl. 9]

Health: 325/325

Stamina: --/--

Mana: --/--

Just bloody great, I thought dourly. Almost as if sensing my thoughts, the undead thing turned towards me. A chill crept down my spine and a cold sweat beaded my brow. I had thought that I was beyond fear, but I would be proven wrong. As the walking dead gazed at me with its unnatural orbs, seeds of an old fear took root. It was one thing to read about or to see depictions of the undead across a flat screen, but it was quite another to see death staring back at you directly.

With a clack of metal upon stone, it began to move towards me on skeletal feet.