The second he managed to open his sarcophagus, stand, and look around, he felt the air leave his newly-reformed lungs.
If his servant's voice cracked his heart before, the state of his vault broke it in two.
His beloved treasure vault was a mere shade of its former glory. Where there once had been piles upon piles of exquisite treasure, artifacts, and finery—now there remained scattered remnants of a kingdom's worth of wealth.
Here were a few gold coins piled in the corner. There lay an enchanted sword with a crack running down its length, its sigils rusted over. Over there rested an otherworldly looking flower, shriveled and dead, with petals shaped like crystalline tears. A giant, gaping hole decorated the far wall, his darkvision revealing a crude tunnel extending into the Depths as far as he could see.
A pitiful noise escaped from his lips. He thought he would cry. Just as he fought against the impulse, a small, reddish figure the size of a large cat leaped into his arms. The tiny, gaunt shape looked vaguely humanoid, except for the bat wings, large pointed ears, big yellow eyes, and soft slitted pupils that glowed red in the gloom. And the tail. He couldn't forget the tail.
The creature sobbed into Abad’s arms with all the fervor of an anguished child. Its wailing cries filled the vault. Abad found himself stroking her small, bony shoulders, attempting to console his familiar. Her scorpion tail flicked to and fro, forcing him to move his head to avoid the poisoned tip a few times.
"Master!" Wracking sobs shook the imp's body, her thick red hair sticking to her wet cheeks. “I’ve waited so long for you!”
His first instinct was to fling the creature across the vault, but Abad paused, trying his best to calm his irate soul. "Yes, dear," he said instead. "And I am here now." The words felt forced and unnatural. He had never consoled another being before. Not genuinely at least. Usually, it was a ploy to get what he wanted from some noblewoman or another.
What had that woman done to him?
The imp rubbed its cheeks, looking up at its master. Her big yellow eyes glowed in the darkness. "It took forever..." The imp choked back fresh tears, and Abad saw her bottom lip quiver. "All of your things... everything is gone..." Another violent sob wracked her tiny frame as she gestured towards the tunnel, illuminated by torchlight. "The intruders… they brought so many men... I tried... I tried to stop them..." Her head turned and she bared her fangs, her tail twitching as she did. Two corpses lay against the far wall. A small campfire, long dead, sat between them, and dusty tipped over mugs suggested whatever lay inside them had long since spilled out. "My venom killed these ones, but so many others came and went. I left the bodies, but the others didn't even care..."
Abad pulled her tight, squeezing gently. "You did well, Angra."
Angra sniffed. "No, I didn’t. Your beautiful vault was ruined because I failed you!" She shrieked suddenly. "And it’s all that stupid girl’s fault!"
She trembled then, curling up into an angry ball on Abad's arms. Growing tired from standing, he sat on the edge of his coffin, numbly looking around his poor, ruined vault.
For what felt like the first time ever, he had nothing to say, so he let his familiar carry on in his lap as he let it all just wash over him. His shoulders sagged and he sat there for several minutes, listening to his familiar babble about the terrible evil people who stole everything. Her whining matched how he had felt when his spirit was stuck in the world between worlds, but now, seeing it all in person, he felt empty.
They'd taken it all.
Well, not everything, he realized as his familiar recounted tales of taking some treasures back, cursed rings that melted hands, and weapons that even the toughest of the thieves feared touching. She had followed them at times, waiting for them to sleep. She said, of the thirty-or-so who entered his vault, she eventually had ended half of them.
Her fangs bared as she told her tales. Some died as they drank at the pub, a simple stab to the throat ending them as they swigged their bitter ale. Some died as the slept, when she relished the horror on their faces when they woke to find their tent covered in flame. Some of them, when she had crept up behind them to steal back whichever trinket of his they had stolen, caught her, and promptly lost their lives to a venomous sting.
He smiled at that memory in particular. It warmed his cold, empty heart to know they saw their deaths coming.
His gaze drifted around the room, lingering on the many empty platforms, scattered coins, broken vials, and torn scrolls that littered the space, the remants of his storied past, as Angra recounted her experiences. A small pile of equipment laid in the corner, under a torn banner. His old war banner, he realized, the raven symbol faded and covered in dirt and dust.
As Angra spoke, her hands gesturing wildly, Abad opened his scroll to distract himself. He needed something to take his mind off of his lost belongings, but every time his gaze landed on another missing object, he couldn't help but wish he was back in his coffin.
His scroll unfurled in the air, and he willed Angra's page to appear. A moment later, he could see her stats:
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Angra
Imp Familiar
Imp IV
[Venom] (Imp I, Talent): Imp’s tails have a venomous tip capable of injecting a paralytic venom.
[Agility I] (Imp II, Talent): Your movements are nimble yet unrefined, comparable to an athletic human’s dexterity, allowing for quick steps and decent balance in routine situations.
Familiar V
[Shared Arcana] (Familiar I, Talent): Their their mystical bonds with their creators, familiars gain the ability to cast basic spells. They can memorize two spells of the 1st circle, one spell of the 2nd circle, and gain the [Familiar's Martyrdom] spell.
[Loyalty I] (Familiar II, Talent): Your bond to the one you serve is true, increasing your ability to stand firm in the face of face of fear or charm effects when protecting the one you serve.
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[Servant’s Devotion] (Familiar III, Talent): The familiar's unwavering loyalty to its master grants it enhanced resilience and magical fortitude when acting in its master's defense or service.
Spells
[Familiar’s Martydom] (Familiar, 1st Circle): The familiar can transfer a portion of their essence to their master, rejuvenating their master’s health or mana.
[Animal Shape] (Imp, 2nd Circle): Familiars can shift into the form of an animal (Raven), enhancing their stealth capabilities and sensory perception. While transformed, offensive abilities are suppressed, but vision and hearing are significantly improved.
Equipment
[Rat Fur Loincloth] (Crude): A basic garment fashioned from the coarse fur of cave rats. While offering minimal protection and no significant stat bonuses, it provides basic coverage and a touch of warmth. The rough texture and unpleasant odor make it quite undesirable.
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Abad reviewed her stats appreciatively, even smiling at her final talent. He knew she was loyal, but he didn't realize the extent.
In truth, he had almost forgotten about her entirely in the ages he spent half-asleep. Being a part of his soul, her skills and stats grew alongside his, usually. However, now her power far eclipsed his own, likely due to their bond being nearly severed by his fugue.
He realized she had been very busy when he was asleep, since she would have lost all of her levels alongside him. It slowly dawned on him that, through their bond, it was likely that her efforts to protect the vault were the only thing that allowed him to recover.
"Angra." The small creature stopped spouting her frustrations. Her yellow eyes locked onto his with absolute devotion. "Thank you. You have been a most excellent servant, and you have done well. I am proud of you."
At his words, she practically beamed. Her eyes glowed brighter in the darkness. He expected she would leap up and begin jumping for joy. Instead, she cried again. A stream of I'm not worthies and thanks and oaths of eternal devotion followed. He regretted saying anything. When she leaped from his lap and planted her head on the floor in submission, he immediately decided he wasn't going to attempt to praise her in the future.
Still, she had earned it.
As she rambled on, Abad's attention was brought back to his vault. He noticed a few peculiarities about its state. Namely, how remarkably empty it was. Even with time wearing away at his seals, the sheer number of enchantments he had placed on it should have made it impossible for outsiders to take much of value. His spells should have corrupted most of the goods. Or transported them elsewhere. Or burned the intruders alive.
He walked over to where one particularly potent spell circle had once lay. It had housed his favorite cloak and a pile of coins. The circle itself was made with powdered diamond infused with crushed void pearls, and he could still feel traces of its powerful enchantment pulsating beneath his feet. He wondered what had become of all that it had contained.
"Angra." The creature lifted its head and realized he had moved. She flitted over and rested on his shoulder. "You said that thirty people entered this vault, roughly?"
She started counting on her little clawed fingers. "Thirty-two, yes."
"How many died to my enchantments?"
"Too few, master. She helped them get past them."
He held out his hand to keep her from continuing. "I'll ask about her soon enough. Please. How many?"
"A dozen." Her lips curled back in disgust. "They died screaming. The flames took them."
"And you killed half the remaining number?"
She nodded eagerly. "Poisoned, burned, drowned, and eaten! There was a wolf outside of the village and--"
"And what of the others?"
"Escaped. Don't know where." She hung her head in shame.
So ten of them survived."Why do we have items remaining?" He gestured to the small collection of artifacts in the corner. "Where did those come from?"
The imp bared her teeth. "That's what I could get back."
He patted her on the head. "Good girl." He thought a moment. "Did they ever return?"
"Many times. Many, many times. But I got them in the end."
"Explain."
The imp nodded to herself. "Oh! That! I thought they might come back, master. And I was afraid you'd wake up to them being here, so I spent some time weakening the tunnel. When they came back, they were smushed."
"Smushed?"
"Like smashed." Angra snickered. "But way worse! The ceiling collapsed, and three were caught under the rock. The rest were trapped in the tunnel. You will see them when we go out in the caves, oh yes. Only she and another escaped." Her face broke into a gleeful grin as she shared her secret with Abad.
So, that's what the tinking noise was. He couldn't decide whether he would strangle her or kiss her for her efforts. He breathed deep and let it go.
"Impressive, little friend."
"Really? Oh, thank you, thank you!" She started to get carried away again, so he placed a hand on her bony shoulders and pinned her against his neck.
"Yes, yes," he nodded, holding her. He had heard enough praise and oaths and crying for a lifetime. "Don't worry, little one. You have sworn your oaths. Stay on my shoulder."
She practically cooed.
His mind quickly wandered to something else. Someone else.
Abad turned to look at the imp on his shoulder. Her yellow eyes, puffy from crying, were an inch from his own. "Now, tell me about this woman."
"Horrible, evil, rotten, no good…" The imp hissed, trailing off into a stream of invectives before she continued. "When she entered here, she kept telling everyone what was real and what was an illusion. She pointed to your enchantments and showed them how to get around them."
Angra fluttered to the ground and imitated a person walking, her clawed fists rising to her hips. She exaggerated every movement and made her voice lower, smoother, swaying her hips as she did. "'Brother' dearest built this vault, but I know all of his tricks. Now that he's dead, the least we can do is liberate his ill-gotten treasures." She scrunched up her face, puffing out her chest and dropping her voice as low as she could. Then, she ran forward a few steps and kicked out her leg at one of the few remaining illusions. "This! Is! Not! REAL!"
Abad listened quietly as his servant paced back and forth on the ground, stomping and strutting as she spoke. He knew exactly who she was talking about. So Selene had discovered his vault. Why wouldn't she? She knew him better than most and was clever enough to figure out most of the traps here on her own, given enough time. It seemed fitting that she would be the one to rob him of his most prized possessions.
Selene had always been a pain, but Abad never considered her an enemy. Even during the War, she’d remained mostly his ally and self-proclaimed rival, save for a handful of instances near the end. In the aftermath of his seeming death, it seemed the rivalry that existed between them had continued in her mind.
Still, Abad couldn't help but chuckle. She was just as fiery as he remembered her. It figured that it'd take someone with such intimate knowledge of his nature and tendencies to see through his illusions and puzzles. After a few moments, images of their past trysts began filling his mind, but he shooed them away. He would find her, if she was still alive, and he'd make her regret her choices.
Abad examined his scroll again. As a Warlock, his primary skill involved summoning objects and entities from other planes. While it would take much time to regain his former power, and it would be much longer before he could summon much of anything, he was confident he could muster some of his former power in time.
But first, he'd need to kill some things.