Scarlet splattered onto the floor as Verys’ attacker carved his neck open with the same disinterest one would carve a turkey. The man let Verys go, and he stumbled forward until he received a hard kick in the back, causing him to sprawl onto the marble floor, coughing and sputtering. To little success, he frantically grabbed his neck to try to slow down the blood loss. His life flowed between his fingers in spurts as he lay dying on the cold stone ground

Time seemed to slow. Jagster started running towards Verys chanting arcane words in Draconic. Daphine clapped her hands and closed her eyes. Annette, recognizing Daphine’s signal, squeezed her eyes shut.

Suddenly, the room exploded in radiant light bursting from Daphine. The three men and Tiph, unprepared and facing O’Dora, are blinded by the sudden light. Jagster skidded next to Verys, blood soaking his pants. He continued to chant Draconic and placed his hands on Verys neck.

Jagster was not a religious man, but he had learned a few tricks that allowed him to tap into the divine energies of the Outer Realms, the realms of the gods. The right conjunction of thoughts, words and hand gestures could trick whatever divine gate-keepers that existed into letting him use their energies.

Sparks of blue energy flowed from his hands into Verys. The blood flow began to slow as Verys flesh sealed itself around the wound. The process was distinctly unpleasant and Verys struggled not to scream as he choked back tears and sobs until he blacked out.

Annette, acting before the others could recover from the blinding light, punched the man she was struggling with savagely in the head. He fell to the ground in a daze and was, then, immediately knocked unconscious by a swift kick by Annette.

Next, she turned to the man who nearly killed Verys and charged him, full-body tackling him into the wall. She slammed his head into the wall repeatedly until he blacked out and then dropped his slack form to the ground. She whipped around to face the third man.

The final man, still unable to see, held Tiph by the neck with both hands and lifted her off the ground. “Nobody move,” he shouted. “Or else I’ll snap this little girl’s neck!”

Tiph, struggling to speak, barely choked out a few words. “I’m— not a— little— girl!”

Suddenly, the same knife that cut Verys, flew out of the downed man’s hand and straight into Tiph’s aggressor’s chest. His eyes bulged in shock as he dropped Tiph. She flopped onto the ground and rolled onto her back, trying to catch her breath.

The man stumbled back and reached for the knife, then, thinking better of it, left the blade in him. “You little whore,” he said, pulling out his own blade from his robes. “I might not survive tonight, but neither will you, bitch!”

“Oh, eat a cock,” Tiph said, having, apparently, learned from Jagster’s lessons on cursing.

The knife in the man’s chest slowly pulled itself out and clattered on the floor. Blood gushed out of the man in terrible spurts with every beat of his heart. He tried to say something, but no words escaped his mouth. He collapsed, dead before he even hit the ground.

Annette turned to Jagster, wild-eyed from panic. “Is Mister Nelt gonna be okay?”

Jagster sat up straight, his back popping from leaning awkwardly over Verys for such a long time. Initially, Jagster only responded to Annette’s query with a grunt as he stood to his feet.

“Is my employee alive or not,” Daphine snapped. She was unaccustomed to adrenaline and the heightened awareness made her testy.

“He’ll live,” Jagster responded. “Is everyone okay?”

Those still standing offered silent nods as Daphine’s magical light faded. Tiph gave a solid kick to her attacker and then, satisfied, whispered “From up here, you look pretty damn small yourself.”

Annette stared at the cultist Tiph disemboweled with sheepish guilt. “Ah was hopin' nobody would die today.”

Daphine patted her on the shoulder. “Tiphone did what she had to. There was little to be done.”

Jagster grunted in agreement as he slapped Verys’ face. Verys jerked awake, gasping from the shock of his awakening. The teen groaned and started to get up. “I feel like death.”

“Well, seein’ as how I just brought you back from the brink of it, you ought to,” Jagster replied with his usual grin beginning to spread across his lips. “How did dyin’ feel?”

“It sucked,” Verys answered, fingering the scar that now adorned his neck. “I probably should have said something before I opened the door.”

“Ya think?” Jagster said, rolling his eyes. “Also, don’t expect me to do that trick regularly. Magical healin’ is taxing as hell. Especially the way I do it.”

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“How often can ya do that?” Annette wondered.

“Healin’ minor bumps and bruises is pretty easy. Savin' someone from dyin' though? Maybe twice a day, if I’m lucky. But I gotta be quick and there ain’t any guarantees.”

Daphine nodded. “That tracks. Even skilled healers have trouble with fatal wounds. I’m amazed someone of your… Peculiar nature can use divine magic at all.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“In any case,” Annette chimed in. “We should keep goin’ if we wanna be done by tonight.”

“We should move carefully and quietly,” added Daphine, despite being terrible at both.

Verys got up and peered into the opened door. Past it was a large room lined with pews with a stage in the middle that a stone podium sat in the center of. Otherwise, the room was empty.

Verys turned to the others and gave a thumbs up.

They all, steadily and silently, flowed into the room and began to look around. There were a few doors, but they all led outside and were trapped in the same manner as the main entrance.

“Maybe this wizard guy ain’t here?” Annette said, tentatively.

“No,” Jagster said. “He’s nearby. I felt him when he tried diggin’ in my head.”

“Are you sure you are not just crazy?” Tiph offered. “The only people I know with voices in their head are crazy.”

“Oh, Jagster is definitely crazy,” Daphine said. “But I believe him. The necromancer is here, somewhere.”

“Right then,” Verys said, scratching an itch from his neck as the magic still healed him. “Let’s take another look around.”

As the group did the room another once over, Daphine closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Focus, she thought. Focus on the energies around us.

After a few moments she began to “see” the magical energies around her through her closed eyelids. There was the dull pulse of light coming from Jagster’s bag. She spotted a bright glow of holy energy centered on Verys’ throat. Then there was the podium.

The podium cast a deep and dark shadow of negative energy. Necromantic energy. The energy flowed under them in crashing waves of pure evil that filled Daphine, usually cool and collected, with incredible dread.

“There,” Daphine said, pointing at the stage. “There’s magic coming from that podium.”

Jagster slapped himself in the forehead. “Detectin’ magic! Why didn’t I think of that?”

Verys made his way over to the podium and gave it a look over. He shoved it and, though it appeared to be part of the stage, it slid. Another push revealed a hidden cellar door.

“I’ve found something,” Verys announced to the others.

He looked over the door. No traps. He moved to open it.

Daphine grabbed his hand to stop him. “Slow down. There is a lot of negative energy coming from there. We need to be careful.”

“Negative energy?” Verys said, quizzically.

“Gorrack,” Jagster said as he walked up. “Or, in your tongue, ‘bad magic’. Necromancy.” He put his ear to the cellar door. “I hear moans. And shufflin'. There’re probably skeletons down there.”

He gave a sniff and almost gagged. “No. Not skeletons. Zombies.”

“Zombies? How do we fight zombies?” Annette said in a mild panic. “Ah’ve never seen a zombie before. Do fists work?”

“Not so much,” Jagster said. “The only ways to deal with a zombie is to chop ‘em to pieces or burn ‘em to ash. Anyone have swords on hand?”

Verys nodded and slung his backpack off his shoulders. He opened up the bag to reveal a number of sheathed weapon.

“I have,” he began, pausing to do a quick count. “Two long-swords and a short-sword.”

“You and Annette take the long-swords and will serve as the vanguard,” Jagster said. “I’ll take the short-sword and take up center rank. Tiph and Daphine? You two keep back and provide support.”

“Who put you in charge?” Tiph asked.

“Any of you ever been a commander in a battle?” Jagster asked, pointedly.

He received no response besides a cough, a grunt and a vague “Uhhh”.

“In that case, shut up. Now, get into position. Verys, open the door slowly and be ready for a fight. Zombies are dumb but a few stragglers might be smart enough to wait by the entrance.”

Verys pulled open the cellar door. Like Jagster said, a couple of shambling corpses immediately sprung out, excited to finally have a chance at fresh meat.

Ever quick, Annette cleaved the head off one. It kept moving, grabbed her and moved as if it was going to bite her, despite not having a head. She simply shoved it to the ground, and it collapsed, unmoving.

The second one charged straight towards Jagster. It leaned down to scoop him up, but the goblin was too quick for it, easily sidestepping the dumb creature.

Jagster, not being able to reach the head, elected to cleave off a leg, causing the zombie to fall to the ground. Then, with a final swing, he decapitated the monster. The body writhed for a bit then, as if some unseen force decided this body was no longer worth inhabiting, lay still.

The darkness of the cellar beckoned ominously. As Annette and Jagster caught their breath the others stared at it intensely.

“Well,” Jagster eventually said. “Shall we? This necromancer isn’t goin' to kill himself.”

“Arrest,” Annette corrected. “We were just told to stop him. Don’t mean we gotta kill him”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, sure. Whatever.”

With that, following the marching order Jagster suggested, the group descended into the depths of darkness.