On a sunny day, deep in the forest, humans bickering can be heard from a distance. Its source is three human friends who are wandering around, searching for a hidden secret. This party is composed of two men and a woman.
The woman has a round face, blonde hair and red eyes. She is wearing a black robe with scattered white minuscule dots, one pair of black long gloves with white rolled cuffs and a black pointy hat decorated with a big white star. She has a short wooden staff that is attached to her golden colored belt and a backpack is hanging from her shoulders.
The average height man has an oval face, black hair and black eyes. He wears studded armor on top of a red tunic, brown gloves and white pants. On his belt, a short sword in its sheath and one dagger are pinned, and on his back dangles a leather backpack.
The tall man has a square face, white hair and blue eyes. His plate armor hides the clothes he wears underneath. On his back, a shiny silver war hammer is visible and on his side, a small bag is hanging from his belt.
The woman and the shorter man are yelling and shouting at each other while the man with the shiny armor is looking around leaving no stone unturned. Having a browned-off expression, the bickering friends are their look on a map with a red circle that the woman is holding.
- I am telling you: the map must be wrong. The target should be around here otherwise, the female says.
- Or maybe your map reading skills are not as sharp as you claimed, Salia! the man answers.
- Are you trusting some ancient map that our employer has given us more than your team mate ?
- Well, yes! Unless you are telling us that some ancient person is pranking us beyond the grave.
- No, what I am saying is: our mission is to find the dungeon and clear it from any danger. So, if no dungeon is there, the mission is impossible.
- Yeah, try to tell that to that freaky archaeologist. I am sure he will be delighted and pay us on the spot, the man says in a sarcastic tone.
- Then why don’t you do it yourself, Izordat! Take it; show us what you can do.
- What, no! That’s not fair. I don’t know how to read a map.
- Then maybe you should shut up.
- It’s you who need to shut up, after leading us to nowhere like this. Tell her, Drumar.
The two shift their attention towards the other with a piercing look and begin grinding their teeth. Their stare contest is kept short, however, as a bang sound attracts their glance. They find their companion Drumar standing beside a hole in the ground with stairs leading downward that wasn’t present as they arrived here, along with a lanky stone tablet that the settling dust is still looming around it.
- It was an ancient dungeon! No wonder its entrance would be hidden under the dirt and growing plants, Drumar says.
- Ah-ha! I told you it was here you dumb brute. Glad that Drumar trusted my judgment instead of yours, Salia exclaims with an excited and energetic voice.
- Well… I… whatever, let’s just get this over with, Izordat utters in a disappointed tone.
- I shall lead the way. Please take precautions as we venture inside. The place might be riddled with traps and monstrosities, Drumar comments.
The three adventurers proceed into the ancient tomb. “Lumios” Salia utters, holding her staff, as a shiny ball of light emerges illuminating the dark and moist corridor in front of them. It looks like a cave or a mine with numerous stone formations making the long walk a bit painful. They walk for a while along this path as both Salia and Izordat are complaining about the place. Eventually, they come up to a more constructed place. The walls, the ceiling and the floor are all well bricked showing signs of an old civilisation. The group can’t help but being astonished by the mysterious place. As they continue their stroll, they find multiple writings and bas-reliefs on the walls depicting what appears to be various kinds of events and rituals performed by humans. They show how they lived, how they celebrated their festivities and much more. The group can’t decipher their meaning as the writings are in a language beyond their knowledge and proficiencies. A language, as far as they know, that is forgotten to time. However, their curiosity doesn’t slow their expedition for a prolonged time until they happen upon one that portrays a war between humans and what resembles a winged reptilian race.
- This one over here can’t be real, can it? Izordat comments out of the blue.
- Why not? Humans have waged multiple wars in the past both for greedy and justified reasons, I just don’t like that they always make their enemies look like monsters though. Salia answers.
- I mean…ah... lizardkins don’t have wings… Do they?
- Who knows? It can be true or just another fairy tale made to impress children. After all, they do look like the legendary dragons, Salia replies, gesturing quotation marks as she was saying “legendary dragons”.
- The world is filled with mysteries. Maybe these monsters roamed the earth in the past. Yet, I must point out that the humanoid appearance visible here does not match with the well-known giant and terrifying form, Drumar remarks Drumar.
In a surprisingly angry tone, Izordat exclaims:
- Maybe, they weren’t monsters then!
- What’s with you? They don’t even exist. So chill down, please! Salia answers.
Izordat doesn’t reply after Salia’s scolding and continues walking deeper to the dungeon. His companions, while confused by his reaction, follow his lead without further question.
This long march approaches its conclusion when the group encounters a gate with large red writing on top of it. Izordat stands in front of the door, agape for a few moments. Then he looks back to his friends to exclaim in muttering voice:
- Guys, I’ll be waiting here!... I can’t go inside.
In a mocking tone, Salia answers:
- Wait! Are you suddenly afraid? After all the energy you showed so far?
- You don’t get it. It might be dangerous.
- Well exactly. If it is dangerous, we will need every help we can get. Help me here, Drumar.
- He might have good reasons for this sudden decision. So tell us Izordat, we are all ears, Drumar answers.
- But… it might… Izordat starts, clenching his hands in silence for a few seconds before continuing : alright, I‘ll go with you but let’s be careful. Ok?
A concerned expression shows up on Salia’s face. Their group has been taking out multiple dangerous missions since they created their alliance. Yet, she has never seen Izordat in this state. His behaviour is out of the ordinary. Did the testimony marked on these walls trigger a bad memory from his childhood? Come to think of it, she realizes she doesn’t know much about his past. Despite that she is always complaining about her training to become a mage, he has never even hinted about his life before joining the party. She decides to keep her worries in her heart for future discussion. The mission at hand is quite the risky endeavor. There is no time for distractions.
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Stepping inside the large and quiet room, the party can’t keep away this feeling of uneasiness. Despite the lack of any apparent danger, it feels like the calm before a storm. The room itself is large with four pillars. Multiple sculptures and statues of human warriors are decorating the place, each standing on pedestals with a clear writing on it. At the other end from the entrance, a golden sarcophagus is positioned beside a wooden desk and one final statue with voluptuous appeal and crown sitting on its head. The final feature of this room is held above the party’s head: it’s a large writing that shines bright enough to render Salia’s magical light ball pointless. Izordat fixates his eyes on that writing in shock, intensifying the worries of his companions as they realize their inability to read it.
The sarcophagus cracks open all of a sudden. The party turns their eyes towards the noise, expecting old horror to come forth to face them. An almost decayed hand shows up initially before it lays down on the side of the tomb. Using it as a support, an animated body emerges from within, glaring towards the party with murderous intent. Slowly, it leaves its resting place, holding a longsword in its right arm. At this moment, the resemblance between this revenant and the statue that stands behind it becomes apparent. The members of the group prepare their weapons as well, ready for imminent battle.
Breaking the silence that is reigning the room, the king leaps towards the party holding its sword up to attack. Drumar meets him midway, striking him directly in the chest, crushing its ribcage on the spot. “What, really?! That was easy.” Salia says in the midst of the action. But her celebration is cut short, as the corpse stands back with its ribcage healing rapidly. And attacks back immediately the armored man who manages at the last moment to block the stroke with his war hammer.
They continue to exchange blows, each of them blocking each attack before it causes any damage. Meanwhile, Salia sprints to the side to have a clear hit on the enemy. “Glaciar!” she shouts, an icicle appearing and leaping towards the distracted zombie. It tries to avoid it but Drumar’s hammer puts him back in the icicle trajectory. A crushing sound resonates in the tomb, as the head of the king flies away.
- Now, it is done! No thanks to you Izordat, Salia cheers while looking towards her paralysed companion, just to notice the shock on his face never left.
- Itit is not over, hold your guard! Drumar shouts.
The zombie is regrowing a new head. In fact the body itself doesn’t even fall to the ground during his regeneration. Once the body becomes whole again, its gaze switches towards Salia. The white headed man instantly understands its intentions, and launches an attack at its legs before it can attempt any action. He blows away the revenant’s entire right foreleg. The king uses Drumar’s momentum to push him back with the back of its right arm. As a consequence, the knight falls prone while the king jumps on its intact leg towards the magic user while the left leg is regenerating.
“Salia, run!” a panicked shout fills the room. “Glaciar!” Salia’s counterattack misses its mark and the danger keeps approaching. When the missing right leg has finished regenerating, the zombie has already reached Salia. It steps on the fresh leg, launching the killing blow. It swings its arms at her, blood splashing out in the air followed by the sound of metal falling on stony ground.
Despite the disturbing noise, the girl realises she remained unharmed. She raises her head to see the zombie missing its right arm with Izordat, who came out of his ailment, standing beside her. The swordsman grabs Salia’s arm and rushes immediately towards the fallen sword, kicking it as far as possible. Before the king could launch any counter attack, it receives another blow from Drumar’s hammer crushing its skull on the ground. Without any delay, the corpse stands back, re-growing the missing limb and healing the destroyed head.
- It’s useless, we can’t get rid of him, the tall man complains watching the king standing back up again.
When the corpse finishes forming back, it raises its arm in the heroes’ direction. And before they notice what is happening, the fallen sword of the king slashes Izordat on his left thigh as it is flying back to its owner. The slash doesn’t cut off the leg entirely but leaves a deep injury, enough to hinder its movement.
- This is impossible, we must run! Salia shouts.
The armored man who is struggling to hold off the zombie in front of him answers:
- Run now, I’ll join you as soon as I find a chan...
He is interrupted by an attack that injures his shoulder. The danger awakens his survival instinct, as he succeeds in swinging his hammer with his wounded arm, destroying the king’s head once again. And then he screams:
- Let’s run now, while he is regenerating.
Izordat exclaims, answering his companion:
- I can’t, my injury prevents me from running away in time. Go without me!
- Are you joking, you will die! We can try helping you out, Salia hopefully suggests.
- I will slow you down, plus I have a plan! Now go, Izordat argues back.
Drumar grabs Salia’s arm and brings her with him as he is running out of the room. They withdraw back to the corridor until they disappear into the darkness.
- I can’t believe my last words I tell those guys are lies, the injured man left behind says, sweating and looking towards the ceiling one last time as he prepares his final words. .’Begone foul being!’ you say. Well I can no longer even do that now, can I?
“Do it now!” a sound resonates in his head while he is trying to concentrate.
When the corpse’s missing parts grow back and it approaches close enough, Izordat releases a thunderous howl from its mouth that is strong enough to push away the animated body and cause the ceiling to collapse on top of it. He knows this attempt will only allow him to extend his life for a few minutes. Suddenly, he hears a clunk sound not very far from where he is sitting down. He turns his head to see an artefact emitting light. He knows immediately what he must do.
He crawls to the best of his ability towards the magical item. While he is midway to his goal, he hears the rubble moving away. He knows the king will come soon to finish his life. He continues to struggle despite stress, despite the fear. He continues until he reaches the artifact and plunges his dagger in one swing into it. A buzzing sound emits from the item while its light is vanishing. Not long after the darkness settles in, a decaying body falls on his back, ceasing every movement. Izordat launches a sigh of relief and shouts:
- I survived!
Few minutes pass, when a familiar light shows up from the sole exit. His companions come back despite their awareness of the danger ahead. They look inside the now pitch black room, to see the zombie lying on their friend’s back.
- Izordat, Izordat! Are you alive? Salia screamed in a panicked voice.
- Yes, somehow the reason that kept that monster intact fell into my hands out of the blue. So yeah I am alive, Izordat answered.
-We heard a weird shout and then saw the room going dark so we knew something happened! But, seriously what happened? the girl replied.
- It doesn’t matter now, I’ll tell you later, he spouts off in pain.
Drumar raises his friend to his shoulders and starts leaving the ancient tomb with their third companion. The return journey to the village takes longer than the first trip. But eventually, they bring Izordat to a healer. His injury is too serious for healing magic to patch it immediately. But it manages to ease off the pain, and accelerate the limb natural healing process. Afterwards, Drumar and Salia escort the trauma survivor back to his rented room.
- You require plenty of rest, returning back from the dead is no easy achievement, Drumar explained to his companion.
- Wait, that’s my room, don’t go in, Izordat objects.
- Really, even in your state, you still insist on your ‘no visiting policy’? Salia argues back.
- Just leave me alone please. I can take care of myself.
Salia sighs before continuing:
- Suit yourself, but we will still come to check on you tomorrow morning.
- Sorry for my reaction, Izordat says. You did save my life and take care of me.
- Don’t mention it; the Cursed Dragons always take care of each other, Salia comments.
Drumar lets out a laugh before adding on:
- I still find that name funny. But I cannot deny how intimidating it sounds.
Salia and Drumar express their farewells before leaving their companion to take care of himself. The smile however slowly fades away from their expressions, being replaced by concern for their teammate.
Izordat keeps his pride as he enters his room, struggling to move. He reaches to the windows and closes its curtains. Then, he goes to sit at his desk and proceeds to remove his armor and tunic. A pendant hanging from his neck falls down on his chest. He hears a voice in his head again complaining: ”Even in the face of death, you still refuse to use my other powers”. With anger, he removes the pendant as he transforms into a humanoid dragon-like creature. His human facial features begin to morph to a different shape. Black scales slowly appear on his skin and spread through his entire body, two scaly wings spout out of his back, and a tail forms above his legs.
- Shut up you cursed monster, he shouts before shoving the pendant inside the drawers.
Then, he gathers what strength he has left to grab a notebook from its storage and starts writing down: “day 379: I still can’t find even a hint of a potential cure for the curse.”