—BOLESLAW—
I was one of the Huscarls of the Crewsovich family, and I was damn proud of it.
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Well, I hope to be one, one day, truthfully I’m just training to enter the cadre(I do hope someday to hear cheers of ‘Boleslaw the Great’ from throngs of admirers, however).
Though I was still training, after the family had saved me from slavery, I had pledged I would serve them as a huscarl… but they were dead now. Killed by that… abhorrent young master, no Malewicz. And, for my soon-to-be glorious entrance into the huscarls, it seemed that I would not be getting any of the glory of putting a blade in his throat. I had gotten assigned to check the eastern catacombs, ‘just in case the mad idiot locked himself in there’ Hjorl had told me.
In truth, there was no way he’d be down here. I just got sent away because I wasn't a Huscarl yet. And others, my betters, wanted to prove themselves the most loyal to the late lord. And prove themselves the most able to replace them, no doubt.
I sighed, walking through the tomb complex, something typical of the East since the accursed Hesmir had used the shallow graves of old to raise armies behind the walls of cities. Better they be locked up deep below, Paladin Dionyzni tells me. That way even if a necromancer wanted to use them, or the souls animate themselves, they would get caught up in the chokepoints near the top, and struggle to get out.
Undead were horribly bad at using stairs, you see, or so I’m told.
*Clack*
Suddenly, I heard a clacking sound. I pulled my sword from its sheath, and pushed my torch out, suddenly wishing I had simply waited at the entrance and lied. And in that torchlight, I saw something. Something that should not have been. The dead walked. A solitary skeleton ambled about… but the bones, they were far too old to host a soul, and the tomb was checked, albeit not too often, for any loose dead. It was something all my classes with Dionyzni had told me should not—no could not be. Still, I steeled myself to let the soul ascend. But as I did, I began to hear more clicks, more clacks, from all around me. And I bore witness to a horde. A sweeping mob of undead.
And I ran, bravely, to tell others.
Though it was admittedly not my proudest moment.
—HJORL—
I had been rescued by the Crewsovichs twenty-seven winters ago when I was but a lad. Since then, I’d become their most Valiant Huscarl (and chief amongst them). Now, it seems, my rise would continue, and I’d see myself head of the Crewsovich territories. No, the Hjorlovich territories? Given the now absent line of succession, not counting that bastard of a young master, the idea was possible at the least.
Though the family’s knights and those damn Naswiskos might still grumble at the prospect of me inheriting, still, for now, I and the knights were united in purpose, in finding the former young master, the bastard. I would see a blood price paid by Malewicz before I rested again...though finding him would help assure the knights of my legitimacy, as well. So I was not asleep, though it was late, but so far, there had been no reports.
“Hjorl!” Boleslaw busted open the door into my office.
I stood up, ready to go, and see the bastard hung.
“Has he been found?”
“Well, no sir bu—”
“Then find the boy! Damnit don’t trouble me with nothing!”
“No, Hjorl,” Boleslaw figeted, continuing, “The dead, they’ve risen, in the tombs.”
…
Could Malewicz have… No, he was far too much of an idiot to do anything magical to them. But… still, he had ranted about finding some old tome, though the Lord had assured us it was just a children’s book or some other tripe. Perhaps some neophyte had misled the boy and was now raising the Crewsovichs? That was likely, he was that daft. It’d explain why the damn boy, normally just a dullard, went and did what he did.
Either way it was a mess, “I’ll assemble a group to go and deal with it. How many were there?”
“I…didn’t see, it sounded like a lot though.”
Boleslaw said, looking down. The boy had clearly fled at the first sight of the undead, but it was better he was alive to report it than joining in that mob of dead. Far too many young lads died out of bravery when they could have lived in cowardice. Dying was the realm of old men, like myself. Still, even a guess of a number would have been preferred.
Sighing, I responded, “It’s unlikely to be more than the recently dead, and some were children. We’ll go and get justice for the Crewsovichs.” This was disgusting. First, the young master, no, mad dumbfuck had killed his family, and now somehow my former charges were rising? My respected saviors? This wouldn’t stand. I will see them put back to the tomb, and send any Neophyte to the hells before the night was through.
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And I would make sure the town knows of it.
—MALEWICZ—
I had been seen! And by that damnable boy… Coleslaw… my family had brought in off the streets, or some other despicable act of so-called ‘charity’. I had always thought that that charity was a waste of money, and now? I was proven RIGHT! And the boy, proving himself to be a waste of money, had fled! FLED!
Or perhaps that was only natural, I am an Arch-Arch-lich after all, it was only natural they feared me. Still, perhaps if the boy had bowed down to worship me, I might have let them live. Maybe. He could have been the first priest! Of my new religion… Malewiczianism? Malewiczianity? I would think of a name later… or have someone else do it! I had already thought of ‘Arch-Arch-Lich’, so I had no further need to think of names, having reached the PEAK.
Bah, it would matter not, one peasant boy was nothing! I was an Arch-Arch-Lich after all. There was no need to worry. Let him tell the world of my coming yes, that would get them properly feared up. A good first messenger, of my CONQUEST! Yes, I like the sound of that, they should know to fear ME if I am to rule over them in the future.
—HJORL—
“Dead in the tomb huh, Hjorl?” Semyon looked at me, seeming to find the task beneath them, “You sure you couldn’t have just kicked Bowlie back there? There can’t be more than a few.”
“Hah, it’ll be good exercise at least. And the family shouldn’t be disrespected like that.” Best to mention the family, I had to ensure this was not just a routine undead clearing. Not before I secure the duchy.
Botslav turned to me, “‘at’s right Captain, makes me blood boil seeing what the bastard did to ‘em.”
“We’ll see the bastard dead men!” I raised my mace up, turning to the rest of the small group of huscarls I’d assembled. Even if all we were doing was killing some weak dead, I could use it to convince them I was a good enough leader to stay one after the mess was sorted.
Answering me was a chorus of cheers, before a dour silence descended back on the huscarls. We were almost at the tomb now, and— *CLACK* *CLICK* *CLACK* *CLACK *CLAAAAACK*
I saw the mob of dead, and…
“Hjorl, are those skele…ar—are they having an argument?”
“Seems…like it.” I didn’t know what to make of it, “I guess we go and kill them?” We started a somewhat hesitant charge at the dead, and I met the first one with a mace to the skull. *CRUNCH*
—MALEWICZ—
*CLACK* *CLICK* *CLACK* *CLACK *CLAAAAACK* These DAMNABLE cretins, these slovenly CHARLETAINS. These withering imbeciles of minions I have acquired are USELESS. They took THREE MINUTES to climb the stairs, and they weren’t long stairs, NO NO NO! They were… they were somewhat long, I admit. However, it took me but 2 minutes to climb, and they held me back by an ENTIRE MINUTE. AND THERE WAS ONLY 30! HOW LONG WOULD IT TAKE FOR MORE TO MOVE???
Such horrible INTERRUPTIONS will NOT— *CRUNCH* WHAT WAS THAT. I turned to see a BAND of peasant WARRIORS accosting my MINIONS! AND MY MINIONS WERE LETTING THEM! NOT FIGHTING BACK AT ALL! *CL—GRIND—ICK* I SPAT AT THEM. The minions were USELESS! I turned and RAN, LOWERING MYSELF! No! It was wise, yes it is wise, I am wise and GREAT.
—HJORL—
Other than one starting to run away, the dead did not resist, we simply walked through the ranks of the skeletons, smashing their heads, as the initial enthusiasm and heart-pumping action stalled.
“Uh, Captain, these skeletons don’t seem to uh, do much,” Semyon said, smashing another skull.
“Shut up Semyon, it’s good these ‘ccursed blights aren’t fightin’ back,” Botslav answered back.
It filled me with unease that they weren’t…doing anything. Well, it made for some easy prestige…or would people even care that we smashed a few skulls? Bah, they would tell of us killing undead, that’s all that matters.
Soon enough, we finished slaying all but the runner.
Hah, that was easy men, “I should kiss that—erm—fuck that Malewicz—er—...to death!” An awkward silence descended upon the ground outside the tomb. Botslav in particular gave me a disparaging look. I said the wrong thing…but perhaps I recovered it at the end?
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Unlikely…
—???—
One might wonder why the undead, so normally consumed with hatred for the living, would simply let themselves be vanquished. You see, in the process of constructing their magical muscles, the soul’s mind is stretched thin, it is sacrificed such that the musculature, the ability to move, can be constructed. Most of the time, this would leave nothing but a mindless hatred, an emotion full of will used to make soldiers, but Malewicz’s undead? They were hardly undead at all, and, rather than a hatred for the living, were filled with thoughts of what meal they’d have next, and how they’d get through the next winter while being so skinny… A facsimile of life, as if the magic was convincing itself it was alive.
—MALEWICZ—
Now, I have put myself away from the peasants, I have slipped awa—NO they must not have seen my splendor, they simply had been too focused on my perfection of skeletons! Of course, though my masterpieces were caught by surprise this time, they are far better than any peasant! *CLICK* I will need new skeletons…and I am freshly out of tombs…or wait! They will not expect me to go back to the tomb! I am a GENIUS! I remember that ‘father’ telling me of a secret entrance to the family tombs. Well, a secret escape to the caves. I can use it in reverse though. A clever plan… yes, I shall go to the caves!
—???—
Perhaps Malewicz’s memory was momentarily enhanced, to remember something so minor, especially something that his so-hated father had told him. However, to go probing for a secret exit to use it as an entrance? It would take a true miracle to be able to find it, let alone avoid simply being lost in the immense cave systems that wormed their way throughout the Crewsovich duchy.
—MALEWICZ—
I have found my way to the caves. Now it is but a simple task, at least for an ARCH-ARCH-LICH…like myself, to find the secret entrance to the secret passage. I shall search and comb through these tunnels. But I am not hiding, no no no, I am merely plotting my…not return, for that would imply I had lost! I am plotting my… revenge yes, revenge for… not losing, but for having been UNFAIRLY ambushed by those peasants.
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Yes, where to start… I looked out to the great caverns before me, having walked quite deep whilst I had been… thinking. Plotting, my revenge, YES! I shall return to the surface in a great conquest of fire and… I do not know where I am… I was sure that it was a left after the right after the turn at the corner down the hall, but I thi—NO I am going the right way, time will reveal this. I will continue down!
—???—
The caves in the Crewsovich lands are vast and labyrinthian. They twist and turn for untold miles beneath the surface, and are home to many a great secret, and many a great evil. Indeed, the tunnels have never been fully mapped or explored, instead being used as a retreating point for various groups of people throughout history. Those who practiced the old ways, before the rise of the Church? They fled deep within the caves, as did the followers of Hesmir, and the many forgotten evils before them.
The caves have therefore become a place of isolation from the surface world, within which is held time capsules of long-forgotten history, as the inhabitants are pushed further and further down with each generation. But for Malewicz, all that matters is that towards the top of the caves, indeed one of the very first caves he had wandered through, there was a secret passage out of the Crewsovich tombs. Long past it, however, was Malewicz now.
—MALEWICZ—
I have come across a great doorway… surely the secret passage! I need only crack the puzzling…puzzle that holds the door shut! Before the great door stands four pillars, on which are engraved a series of 3 figures. A bear, a… winged thing, and an axe. Behind each pillar, on the wall, was an engraving, each one having either a bear, the winged thing, or an axe. A more simple mind would assume they were the solution, but I am no simpleton, I understand the TRUTH of the matter. The engravings behind the pillars are an illusion!
The true solution to the puzzle must lie in a more complicated truth…a bear…an… AXE? Yes, yes… delightfully devilish Malewicz! I shall solve the puzzle with haste!
I have set the pillars to all be AXES! For is it not the case that the axe beats the bear? And the winged thingy, surely it is just a distraction from the TRUTH of the matter! A bear cannot beat axes. I came to the door, a lever before it, and pulled it down, ready to begin my REVENGE!
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As soon as I pulled the lever, a blue gas began to fill the room. Poison, no doubt, but it would mean nothing to an Arch-Arch-Lich like myself. I reached my hand out to the ga— *CLAAACK* IT BURNS *CLIIIICK* NO NO NO.
—???—
Whilst yes, a normal poison would be no match for a lich(or Arch-Arch-Lich, for that matter), the doorway was guarded with holy water, the gas being a vapor of divine nature that reacts negatively to the presence of any undead. The doorway, you see, was there to stop undead from going beyond it, built at the time of Hesmir by refugees. For the undead cannot interpret the puzzle, with their souls stretched so thin. Any loose undead would be unable to solve it, even with how absurdly easy it is to simply look above the pillars for the answer. They would instead pull the lever mindlessly, in a pantomime of life. Indeed, it was the case that this puzzle had never been solved incorrectly by humans, simply delaying travelers by a minute or so before they continued their descent.
Of course, Malewicz it seems was destined to break that, and be the first to solve the puzzle incorrectly with sound mind. Perhaps though, it would be more accurate to add him to the swaths of undead, who, operating on memory, pulled the lever out of some instinctual desire.
—DIONYZNI—
My charge as Paladin, the Crewsovich duchy, had been undergoing a hectic few nights. Dresvyna had come and gone, bringing not festivities but the murder of the entire Crewsovich line at the hands of their youngest, Malewicz. I had always made no secret of my detesting of the boy, he was an imbecile and I had never understood the late duke's insistence on not simply banishing the boy. Time had proven me right, as one who has the Gods on their side always is, and the boy had gone mad. Now dead were rising from the tombs, and not the recently fallen Crewsovichs, but old bodies.
It meant they had been risen for a long, long time, which made giving them their final rites even more important. The longer a soul stays inside its body, the more resistant it is to leave.
"Paladin Dionyzni, thanks for coming." I was greeted at the battle site by Hjorl, the man who seemed likely to succeed as the new duke. I found him to be quite detestable, however. Having heard of what he said following the vanquishing of the dead, my suspicions of the man's selfish motivations seemed correct.
"Ah yes, so these bones are the risen?"
"Yes"
I inspected the bones with my divine sense and… they were completely absent of souls. I looked to Hjorl, suspecting some kind of foul play.
"And why then, do they lack souls?"
"They uh, they what?"
"If these bones are any indication, these should've been exceptionally old undead. You expect me to believe you felled them with ease, without the bodies having any soul to reanimate them? Or were these dead just oh so willing to ascend?"
"I…well, the men and I fought them, it's true. They didn't do much resisting though, and one got away."
"One…got away?" Could Hjorl simply be lying? No, though he was somewhat of a foul man, Botslav and many others among the huscarls were pious, they would not have lied. Still, an undead capable of running away? That could only be a lich…an old disciple of Hesmir? Perhaps? It would explain the age of the undead. But why emerge with only this many, and why not revive the recently dead Crewsovichs? Something was deeply not right here.
"Has anyone been down to investigate the tombs after the attack?"
"No, after killing them we went out drinking." Peh, the sins of lesser men.
"I will head down to investigate, should I not emerge within a day, send word to the ecclesiastical order."
"Yes, paladin."
"And station some men in the tomb, this could just be a predecessor to something bigger," I added before I began to make my way down into the tomb, passing by defensive positions as I descended down the long flight of stairs. Reaching the bottom, I found footprints in the dust, covered in the erratic tracks of the undead. Interestingly, I saw two sets going in, where there should have been but one, Bowlie’s. I followed the two tracks before they diverged, one turning back before speeding up, the other going deeper in. I drew my mace and moved deeper in, following the footsteps.
A foul smell greeted me first, as I passed a corner into…dear Gods…what matter of cruel ritual has taken place here? I saw…bones, blanched of their flesh, which seemed to have melted into a putrid sludge on the ground. The entire room was stained red by blood, as if it had turned to mist, and painted the walls equally. All this was surrounding a chalice, knocked onto the ground, a dried blood pooling out of it.
Crude lines were carved into the floor, amateur work, done by a neophyte no doubt. And they seemed to depict…a happy little tree…and a happy family next to a house? But what was the goal here? I followed the footsteps with my eyes further, the dusty prints turning into tracks in bloody mud, until I found a space where a body once was. It seems they had… drank from the chalice and fell over? And then…left behind their boots and clothes?
There was a tome lying on the ground, and I hesitantly checked it for a curse, and, finding none, I picked it up.
It was a copy of… the Woslowrunica… the late duke had secretly arranged a ‘mage’ to ‘sell’ the book to the dull boy as a gift. It was a book of old imperial childrens’ stories, nothing more.
What in the hells did that mean…
—MALEWICZ—
*Click* I waved my singed bony hand in the air. The door…it had been a trap! Set by those who have heard of my rising, no doubt. Hmm… I shall have to find another way into the tombs. Perhaps deeper in there will be a way in? Yes yes, they would not have blocked off this higher passage unless there were lower ones.
I began to look for an alternate route down, coming across three other doorways guarded by similar mechanisms. The bastards had truly planned for EVERY eventuality…
No matter! I will find another path in time, and time is something I have much of now…
—DIONYZNI—
“Sir Paladin, how was it down there?" Botslav greeted me, standing guard at one of the defensive positions on the stairs.
"The tombs will need cleansed, and the dead will need their rites repeated. Some…dark ritual took place down there." The abandoned clothing and the fleeing undead… together they painted a picture I did not like. The clothes looked like those of a certain idiotic young master as well.
"Oh Lords…" Botslav began a quick prayer, and I smiled at him. It was good to see at least some of the Pravkans were faithful.
"I will have the church send priests here, until then, may the Gods bless you and keep you safe as you guard these tombs." I exited the tombs, and began the walk to the nearby church. If this truly was the rise of another lich, one who could reanimate the dead without souls? Then we were entering into dire times indeed.
"Sir Paladin!" I heard a young voice from behind, turning to see Boleslaw running up to me.
"Yes child?"
"Those undead, I thought you said old ones like that couldn't rise?"
"Yes…" I hesitated, I didn't know if it was right to tell the whole truth here, and spread panic, "...they were most likely animated a long time ago, and in all likelihood simply let out of their caskets by someone." Not a lie, but certainly not the full truth, forgive me, Gods.
"I see… but you were saying they had no souls? Is that really true Sir Paladin?"
Though the boy certainly isn't making this easy. "Yes…they most likely were exorcised of them by more blunt means, it is sometimes the case that a mace to the head is all that is needed to put a soul to rest." Though for a group this size? The odds were…unlikely.
"Ah, alright, thank you, Sir Paladin. I was wondering was all."
"Yes, well it is good to know your enemy, have you been reading the holy book daily?"
"Yes Sir Paladin! I've devoted at least an hour a day to the holy book."
"Good, the Gods look kindly upon the educated. Should you keep it up you will find yourself blessed in this life."
"Yes Sir Paladin! I won't take up any more of your time, Gods' blessings!" The boy ran off after that, probably to go back to manning the tomb. I felt guilty for not telling the full truth to one of the faith, but it would be better to wait for more to be known, instead of simply suspicions. I will write to the ecclesiastical council for now, if I am correct in my suspicions then things will soon be dire indeed.
—BOLESLAW—
Dionyzni was hiding something, about the tombs. It was rare that he lied, and he was, well, he was bad at it. No experience, he hadn’t had the hard life that many the Crewsovichs had helped had. I had much respect for the man, but he is as they say, a man of the Gods. And They do say to tell no lies.
Hjorl might be interested, and it might help me recover some of my standing if I can discover what Dionyzni is hiding…
—HJORL—
I might be running the territory, but it's hardly assured I'll keep running it. The church has been raising its presence, making up some damn excuses about the undead being part of something larger. Bah, they just want to take over the Crewsovich lands, we dealt with the dead already. Anything else is just a power grab. *Knock*
"Come in"
Semyon entered my office.
"Hjorl, Dionyzni is keeping something from us. He’s got some theory about the ‘dead he won’t tell.”
“The ‘dead aren’t the problem anymore lad, we didn’t find the blasted Young Master among them, that means he’s still out there.
“Well, yes but the de—”
“Look, I get it, you missed out on your chance to play hero slaying the undead.” Bowlie seemed to grow flushed at that, good, “You’re clever, I know. But what I, we, need to focus on, is securing the North, otherwise that damned branch family will get it back. And then we’re all dead.”
“Hjorl… You’re right, whatever his theory is, he would tell me if it was important. I’m sorry, I’ll think on it for awhile.” Bowlie bowed in apology, and left the room, making silence desend on my office for once. A relaxing moment.
“‘Ey Hjorl, Budyenov wants to talk to you." Botslav spoke into the room, breaking the silence.
"Fuck, let the bastard in"
"Well uh…" Botslav began before Budyenov, a tall, lean, hawkish man, pushed his way past Botslav and into my office.
"Ah fuck."
"Yes…fuck. I am here to discuss your… comments on the late young master." Bastard, as if he isn't just trying to get the duchy too.
"I believe you said you wanted to…engage in carnal relations with the young master? Is that correct?"
"...to death. I want to kill him. If he wasn't in that swarm of dead."
"Ahaha, but I believe that was you putting forth your desire to take the duchy no? I don't think a peasant-blood such as yourself has any right to the duchy." As if he did, the bastard Naswiskos had been kicked from the seat of the North for a damn good reason.
"I think you'll find that the people of these lands would sooner have a peasant lead them, than some Southern bastard. Hah, especially one who is so close with his comrades." I’d heard some damn interesting rumours, at least. Of both him and his brother. Hah! With a chłopświne?
"Yes, I figured you might say that." Budyenov took a small axe out of his pocket, placing it on the table. "Then I will see that peasant driven out, back to where he belongs."
"Hah, you can try you suthbrezki."
"Yes…I will be doing that." Budyenov gave a final glare, before leaving. It seemed that the common cause of finding Malewicz had deteriorated…though I wondered what the tiny axe was for.
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It would make a good paper weight, I suppose.
—BUDYENOV—
I would wipe that sniveling grin off of that idiotic jumped-up peasant. If he thinks he can claim what is rightfully mi—ours by imperial inheritance laws, he has truly followed in the late Malewicz's footsteps. I gave him the axe though, I will see him on the fields of battle, and I will see to it that peasants know to stay down, beneath their lessers. Huscarls are just soldiers, nothing more. They aren't noble, as us knights.
"Sir Budyenov, it's good to see you."
I turned and saw the local paladin, sir Dionyzni.
"Ah, it is a pleasure sir paladin. What would you require of this humble servant of the gods today?"
"I have heard rumors that you mean to push claim on these lands, I would ask you to hold off. I believe there to be a lic—"
"Hah, I am in no mood for this Dionyzni, there were some dead, yes. Nothing on the level of a Lich, however, and you know that."
"I beg your pardon? You doubt the word of the Church?"
"Of course not. I doubt the word of the man who comes to me at such an opportune time and asks me to hold off on stopping an overly self-righteous peasant because of suspicions."
"You… I am a servant of the Gods, you mean to imply this is a power grab?"
"I mean to imply no such thing, but it is often the case that in serving 'the gods' the church ends up serving itself more than anything. No, I will be doing no holding off. This duchy is open for the taking, and I will see it taken by myse—my family." I walked past the paladin. It seems that there would be further competition for the duchy.