Fear.
The old dwarf general could almost smell it as soon as he arrived in the Celene’s royal palace. Kadrin had caught the urgency in the elf-queen’s sending, and he had sensed the anxiety present in his escorts. But when the dwarf was ushered quietly into the palace library, almost secretively, he knew with certainty the matter at hand must be dire indeed.

The gathering of his other long-time companions only strengthened Kadrin’s suspicions. The dwarf greeted the others warmly, eating and drinking little... speaking even less, preferring to let others talk about how Fate and Fortune had treated them these past five years, while his thoughts brooded over the noticeable absence of Galen.

Finally, Yolanda joined them. Despite all his misgivings towards the elf-queen for her lack of assistance in destroying the filthy orcs hordes of Turrosh, even Kadrin had difficultly not yielding all to the weight of her presence, such was Yolanda’s majesty.

“Queen Yolanda,” Kadrin bowed low as she entered. As he rose, the dwarf general noticed the elf-queen had aged since he had last seen her. No doubt Galen’s absence weighs heavy on her, he mused.

“I will not waste time with pleasantries at this time, so please excuse me,” Yolanda began, sharing dire need... “...Time is of essence. The blood magic to release them requires a full moon and that is tomorrow night. That is why I moved to find and bring you with such urgency. Galen and the ladies must be found and I ask you to aid me on this quest. What say you?”
Without hesitation, Kadrin bowed low once more, addressing the Queen. “Your majesty, Prince Corond has heard your request for aid and has placed has me into your service. You shall have my hammer and shield.”

“Time is of essence. The blood magic to release them requires a full moon and that is tomorrow night. That is why I moved to find and bring you with such urgency. Galen and the ladies must be found and I ask you to aid me on this quest. What say you?”
Prior to the Queen's entrance from the garden, Finarsil had quietly greeted her old companions, courteously partaken of the drink and dainties offered to the 'guests', so as not to offend anyone by any unnecessary abstinence, plus she had graciously played a low tune on her flute at the bequest of some of her former acquaintances in the Queen's Court.

However, she was ever vigilant to mentally record the features and actions of all assembled, especially her former companions who had been summoned by Queen Yolanda in like manner, knowing that if she survived the imminent quest it was her duty to put the outcome of the approaching adventure into song and poetic verse, to share both at the Court of the Queen and at her Bard School, should she be able to return to her students and resume the life she had just left behind.

Talk of witches and cauldrons and blood sacrifices and dark magics made her emotions swirl, but her years of training and experience subdued any doubts or fears about facing such dark forces unbidden!

She waited her turn to stand before the Queen, then bowing in such manner as Bards are known to do, Finarsil the Flaming Raven made her pledge and vow:

"My Blade, My Bow and My Flute are at your service Queen Yolanda!

"May we return with Galen, the Triplets and an Epic Song of Victory!"
Finarsil refused to speak anything negative, for she was aware by the appearance and demeanor of Queen Yolanda that too many advisers had spoken words in hushed whispers that had reached the ears of their Grey Elf Monarch, but the High Elf Bard would rather die than utter such words of despair!

Odyson stood quietly as he waited and watched the others arrived. It wasn’t long before it was clear that the Elven Queen had summoned those that had been closest to her son. Even that character Maximus appeared with a bit of a wild look in his eyes. He never did like teleport magic. To the bronze skinned barbarian it was comforting to see that he would be among able companions.

A hush fell when Galen's mother entered the room. He listened intently as she explained why she had called for their help. When she had finished he listened to the others pledge to the Queen.

When they were done he stood there stoically for a few moments, a grim look on his brow. Then in his quiet baritone voice, ”Sound like Galen need another holy man.”

The smoothed stone floor was cold beneath her bare feet as Lun Telumendil glided toward the center of the ancient temple. Mists billowed around her skyclad form to wrap her completely in their cool embrace. Pale moonlight refracted through the thickening haze of mist that at once revealed and hid the path to the sacred pools. Had the priestess not walked this path near every night for the past century, the oscillating mists sent would have sent her falling to her death. Survival of this scared path was the final test for a High Priestess of the Cult of Mysteries, and it would be a trial undertaken again each night she spent on the temple grounds. Some saw this spoke of the cruelty of the Dark Sisterhood, but in truth it was a devotion to the unknown that drew them forward night after night.

Tonight Lun was joined by many of her sisters as they each made their way to the sacred pools deep within the ancient temple of stone, water, and moonlight. Thirteen steeps brought the silver haired priestess before a reflecting pool, and she slowly descended to sit on the stone floor and gaze into its watery depths. Time seemed to still as she let her golden eyes seek the vision held beneath the waters still surface. There she sat, still and barely breathing until the vision came to her.

The vision came, such as it was, but it was far from what she had sought. There, rippling on the waters' surface with the evanescent visage of Yolana the Eternal, her Queen. A voice at once ancient and youthful spoke directly into her mind.

"Help me Lun Telumendil, for the kingdom of our people and perhaps that of all mankind is in grave danger. I know you have aided my son Galenthanus many times in the past. Please come to me now in my time of need."
The grey elf priestess did not hesitate. Quickly rising, Lun let her feet guide her from the temple depths. Once again she would leave the ecstatic vision quests of a priestess to aid the world beyond.

******

"I will not waste time with pleasantries..."

It seemed The Faerie Queen began her tale the very moment her feet touched the library floor. It was a gruesome telling indeed, made all the more foreboding by Yolanda's frenetic pace. Such haste was a thing known among the shorter lived peoples of Oerth and was rarely seen among the elves. For Her Fey Majesty to move with such urgency spoke more loudly than her words ever could. This was a dire need.

One by one, heroes whom she had stood beside alongside Galenthanus stepped forward to pledge sword and spell in aid of a dear friend. Catching the violet eyes of the lone mage among them, Lun nodded knowingly. Bonds of fraternity had pulled each of them forward, but beyond that, this was a threat against her people and it could not be ignored.

Gripping her magical black staff, Lun Telumendil stepped forward silently to join the others. A quick tap of the staff and the nodding of her head was the only answer she need give. The people had called in need and she would answer.

The queen nods her approval as all of you accept her charge. “Let us move to the garden immediately then and we will begin.”

In the garden, she gathers you around the silver basin and puts the orb above it. She gives the two amulets one to Arien and one to Sparrow. “These can guide you to Galen as well. You will feel them pull towards him but they will not know passageways or dangers – just direction.”

“If the three sisters are our foes then you will most likely be near a swamp or a dark forest – some place with lots of roots and earth. They would create a lair beneath a mound or hill.”

The queen smiles for the first time since she came to you, “Thank you all and may the gods guide you on this quest.” She then begins casting her spell. The garden becomes bright and then suddenly ....

You appear in a cavern, not quite dark as you are near the mouth of the cavern and there is sunlight some distance before you. (See illustration at start of this thread). The ground beneath your feet is stone, laid out as if on a patio or a courtyard. The air is warm and there is a slight scent of the sea to the air but you hear no sound of bird or beach. Before you is a stone bridge over a rocky gully filled with dark green quartz like rock that has a green iridescence to it. The Bridge is lined with columns with serpents coiled around them and there are two skulls, larger than a man on the end closest to you. A man stands between the skulls, holding a torch but not moving – something about him looks almost unreal or not natural. Overhead, there is the grizzly sight of bodies hanging from the stone ceiling with black ropes binding them by their feet. Although high up, you can tell by their garb that these are 6 elven hunters. They hang unmoving but their arms stand crossed at their chests not hanging down. Beyond the bridge there is sunlight and a cave entrance that has been carved around to resemble a demonic face.

Wait a minute .....

A demonic face on a cave?

Serpents on the bridge’s Column?

Giant Skulls?

You have heard of this place. Heard, but never been here before because, well, no one was supposed to be here again.

There are many stories told in taverns and around campfires of the great Tomb of Acererak – stories that frighten both children and the strongest of warriors. The Infamous Tomb where Galen had helped defeat the Arch-Lich over 75 years ago. Eight of the greatest warriors, mages and Rogues of their age had gone in and only 3 lived to tell the tale. But they defeated Acererak and the Tomb was sealed up, so how ...

Well all the pondering and wondering in the world wasn't going to help now. The Amulets pulls towards the cave showing your friend must be within. It seems that your destiny awaits you inside the Tomb of Horrors

Kadrin watched as all his companions pledged themselves to the Queen's quest. The dwarf was not surprised -- loyalty, courage, and honour... he had witnessed all such traits amongst his friends on journeys past. Now, deep love for one of their own bound them together once more.

As the elf-queen wove her magic spell, Kadrin brought Dain to his hand. Hold on, Galen. Your friends are close at hand, he send his thoughts to his friend.

--- --- --- --- --- ---

When the spell was completed, Kadrin steadied his stance and took in his surroundings. The place was not immediately recognizable to the dwarf, though it desired to bring forth some memory, some story. A moment longer and his mind began to make sense of the columns and sculptures.

"Acererak's tomb," Kadrin grumbled. "I remember Galen speaking of this place when he first returned. If our friend is true, then we find ourselves on the threshold of the most foulest of places."

Steeling himself for what lay ahead, Kadrin brought Har'ard to his shield arm and tightened his grip on Dain. "If the lich has allied himself with these three sisters, we shall need courage with wisdom, friends. Honour tempered with cunning. Loyalty to the end."

The old dwarf eyed the torchbearer ahead. "The day is moving on. Let us see what kind of welcome has been prepared for us."

[OOC: Kadrin is ready to move forward and greet the torchbearer (should no one else decide to converse with the creature). His "standard" approach is cautious... so, he be trying as much as possible to be aware of his surroundings. For instance, unless imminent danger presented itself, Kadrin would examine the stonework of the bridge before crossing it, ensuring that it seemed stable.]

Sparrow was ready for the transportation spell but not the destination. She knew where they were and it was not a place she would visit on her own. The amulet on her chest pulled in the direction of the cave mouth. "No big surprise, the amulet says we go into the cave." She waited for one of the others to take the lead.

"Can this be the Tomb of Acererak? The Tomb of Horrors?"
Finarsil began searching the recesses of her mind; searching for memories of the Tomb Lore that might aid her and her companions in their quest to free the Triplets and their friend Galen.

As she searched the corridors of her memories, a familiar tune began welling up within her, as the High Elf Bard began humming a familiar refrain, while patiently probing her memories for any useful Tomb Lore information in the recesses of her mind.

She watched her companions, taking note of their actions and responses, for when the High Elf Bard would one day be able to sing a song of their victorious rescue!

Slowly moving forward, allowing her companions to move ahead of her, Finarsil kept a wary eye on the distant pillars, where the serpents wound themselves around the columns.

For the moment, sheathing Dark Reaver, in favor of her Long Bow, she slowly kept pace with her companions, awaiting the proper moment to get well within range of loosing an arrow to strike straight and true, against whatever foe would need to fall before them, in their quest to locate and free Galen.

Pausing for a few moments, the High Elf Bard made sure that no humanoid or dark creature was stalking the party from behind; then proceeded forward once more: watching with wary eyes the actions of each of her companions, the Torch Bearer and the Snakes wound around the Columns.

The humming of her familiar tune gave way to the softly spoken song that now escaped her lips, seeking to bolster the courage and determination of her companions:

"Alac-Ro the Weaver of Webs is the one
Who toys with adventurers' lives just for fun
When fear tries to make adventurers run
Dark webs seek to blot out the life-giving sun

"Alac-Ro the Weaver of Webs is he
Who creates the dark-woven tapestry
His dark works make a solemn decree
Please try to find a way to break free

"Alac-Ro the Weaver of Webs works at night
Devising the most devious designs for a plight
Where adventurers are tormented with fright after fright
If they fail to do the things that are right

"Alac-Ro the Weaver of Webs is who
Makes adventurers sweat like a wet morning dew
Creating impossible odds not a few
There is victory when you discover just what to do"
((OOC: Finarsil is quickly searching her memories for any bits or pieces of Tomb Lore that the Bard would recognize as helpful for her and her companions in their quest to find and rescue Galen and the Triplets.

Her song is meant to encourage her companions, because she has not as yet brought out her flute to aid her comrades, until it is a necessary action.

Dark Reaver is at her left side, where she can watch for the glow of the blade to reveal any Undead within 60 feet of the blade.

Her Long Bow is in her left hand and she intends to draw the string back with her right hand, thus causing an Arrow to appear from one of the pouches in her Bracers of Ye' Cind, ready to let an Arrow fly against the closest Serpent winding about the Pillar closest to her companions.

She will draw ever closer, positioned behind her comrades, watching their actions and ready to take action, depending upon the reaction of the Torch Bearer towards the one or more of her companions who try to engage him in conversation.

Finarsil also has the Amulet of Tongues, which allows her to speak or understand any language, if it becomes necessary for her to approach the Torch Bearer to establish necessary communication.

Finally, she takes a few moments to make sure that no foe is sneaking up behind the party, before she proceeds with the previously stated actions))

Back at the court
Arien glanced up to see an old, familiar face - Maximus, the ex-gladiator's features a slight tinge of green after his teleportation. The big man moved beside the knight and greeted him.

For the life of him, the patriarch of House Thedell could not understand why a man so obviously meant for fighting had decided to take up the stealthy arts. However, those skills certainly would come in handy in many situations, and from the looks of the party, there were plenty to swing blades and pull bows.

The two of them had honestly never been particularly close; Arien had always found the man's lack of tact and manners to be more than a bit grating. However, he was a trusted and valuable comrade, and the knight would never intentionally offer insult. Arien offered his hand and clasped Maximus' forearm. "Well met, Maximus," Arien replied. "It has been some time."

Assuming chitchat and pleasantries prior to the queen...
*************************************

At the entrance to the tomb
Arien allowed the fuzz of teleportation to clear as he took in his surroundings. At first, he tried to discount the evidence, but it quickly became overwhelming.

The Tomb of Acererak. It did not seem possible, and yet... here they were. The knight felt icy tingles of fear grip his stomach - if this was the destination, then it stood to reason that Chryssa's premonition was a real thing, and not just the worry of a wife and mother.

But truly, that changed nothing, did it?

Some men claimed to taste no fear. In his years of adventure, Arien had long ago realized that only fools or madmen truly felt no fear; everyone else simply hid it well or lied about it. Despite what the bard songs might say, courage was not the absence of fear; instead, courage was the ability to press on, to do one's duty in spite of that fear.

But now, it was time to set those thoughts aside. Hesitation could lead to death, and the patriarch of House Thedell had every intention of returning home to his wife and son. Now, though, the amulet pulled him toward the tomb, and to Galen.

It did not take an intelligent man to recognize the obvious warning in the display of the hanging bodies. At the very least, this was some sort of horrid warning... but the entire situation made Arien very uneasy.

"Be ready," the knight hissed. "This man - or whatever he is - is no friend. No decent person would be in such a place of evil as this, surrounded by the hunters in such a display. I fear a trap; prepare yourselves, friends, and fan out into combat formation."

Powerful magics and enemies were at play; surely, those who had abducted Galen would have expected the Queen to send rescue for her son. Subtlety was pointless. With a whispered prayer to Heironeous, Arien stepped forward and drew Liun'naur.

"You there," the knight called as he stepped forward. "What is the meaning of this? Who dares to slay the servants of the Faerie Queen, and to disgrace their bodies so? What have you done with Galenthanus, son of Yolanda the Queen?"

And now, there was nothing to do but cautiously advance, knowing full well that something terrible awaited.

In the Queen's Library Jarenion offered a faint smile and a respectful nod in lieu of a bow when Lun inclined her head in his direction. It had been years and more since he'd seen the High Priestess of Sehanine Moonbow but, he was pleased to note, her beauty had not diminished in the slightest and her wisdom, as evidenced by her meaningful nod, had only flourished. "Oio naa alealla alasse', Lun Arwenamin," the mage said softly, taking a step closer to his silent friend, after she, too, had affirmed her acceptance of this quest from their Queen, "Lle maa quell.*"

The reunion with the priestess was necessarily short on any reminiscence, of course, for as soon as the last of the gathered troupe had affirmed their dedication to the quest, Yolanda's regal head dipped in acknowledgement and gratitude. "Let us move to the garden immediately, then and we will begin," she said even as she turned to lead the way.

Jarenion fell into step alongside Lun, their staves ticking in harmony as they followed and falling silent in unison when Yolanda glided to a halt and turned to present Arien and Sparrow with the amulets and explained their use. He nodded when the queen provided the information on the Sisters' preference of lair and terrain, and smiled when Yolanda herself did so at long last. This meant the Queen's hope, to whatever measure, had been restored from the dismal pit in which it had lingered since Galen's disappearance.

"Thank you all," the Queen smiled as Jarenion felt her magics beginning to strum the air about them, "and may the gods guide you on this quest."

The mage's fingers curled about his adamantine staff in expectation and, even as the light of the teleportation spell intensified, his mind sought out the beginnings of his own incantation to put to work when they appeared, wherever that might be,

At the Entrance to the Tomb of Acerarak
By the time the vibrations of Yolanda's teleportation spell had cleared and Jarenion's eyes registered, first, the presence of all his companions and, then, the surroundings in which they now found themselves, the mage could have imagined, in his much younger days, having stumbled over the simple spell he had begun and having to restart due to his surprise at their destination,

The Tomb of Horrors, the part of his mind that was free from the turnings of spellcraft registered, Aiya! This bodes not well.
,As it was, though, and despite having been deposited in front of one of the most infamous locals in legend and lore, the mage's mind clung to the mana-bending and completed the formula even as the others also came to their own realizations of their current locale.

((OOC: Detect magic, please, hopefully a decent enough spread to encompass the entirety of the area in which we have appeared and the way forward into the tomb, torchbearer, pillars, and bodies include.))
"Acererak's tomb," the dwarven general grumbled, the words that followed flowing from remembrances to readiness with ease as Kadrin situated shield and hammer,

The ranger, Sparrow, touched the amulet at her breast and smirked; "No big surprise; the amulet says we go into the cave."

Finarsil's song sparked an inspiring magic in the elsewise fell atmosphere, even if there was no mana expended on the bard's part.

"Be ready," Arien hissed as he indicated the torchbearer standing between themselves and the mouth of the tomb, "This man - or whatever he is - is no friend. No decent person would be in such a place of evil as this, surrounded by the hunters in such a display. I fear a trap; prepare yourselves, friends, and fan out into combat formation!"

As the knight, Liun'naur freed at his side, strode forward and challenged the torchbearer, Jarenion focused on the results of his detect magic spell and, as ordered, found his place in the combat array and readied himself for whatever may come, In a place such as this, he had an instant to muse, it will come quickly of a certain and, I'll wager, far more often than any of us might like,
The mage flicked a glance at Lun, and smiled a peculiar smile; "Lle desiel?**"

((OOC: Okay, Detect magic spell cast per above. Jarenion will, of course, immediately share any pertinent information he gleans from the spell with Arien and the rest. Next step (if there's nothing to inhibit it) is to prep/cast Protection from Evil, 10' radius (centered on Arien, if possible, or, if not, on whichever party member is closest to the current "center" of our formation), Spell selection thereafter is dependent upon the results of the Detect Magic spell and the actions/reactions of the torchbearer. If his attentions are free enough, the mage will also be sure to take a look around and see if any secret doors/passages make themselves readily obvious to his eyes.

* "Ever thy sight is a joy, My Lady Lun. You're looking well."
** "Are you ready?"))

As Ody's vision cleared a cavern appeared; the entrance that has been carved around to resemble a demonic face. His gaze takes in the surroundings. A man stands between stone skulls on a stone bridge over a rocky gully filled with dark iridescence green quartz like rock holding a torch. High up bodies hanging from the stone ceiling, black ropes binding them by their feet, unmoving but their arms stand crossed at their chests. He sensed this was a place of great evil, one of the places that the Dark slipped Mother Earth's embrace enough to slide his minions into the world of men.

He then heard Kadrin's grumble, "Acererak's tomb, I remember Galen speaking of this place when he first returned. If our friend is true, then we find ourselves on the threshold of the most foulest of places. If the lich has allied himself with these three sisters, we shall need courage with wisdom, friends. Honour tempered with cunning. Loyalty to the end. The day is moving on. Let us see what kind of welcome has been prepared for us."
The stories were told in his tavern of the great Tomb of Acererak. The tomb where Galen had helped defeat the Arch-Lich over 75 years ago. Eight of the greatest warriors, mages and Rogues of their age had gone in and only 3 lived to tell the tale. They defeated Acererak and the Tomb was sealed up, but now it was open again. The Shaman began to count the party members then mused lowly, "Hmmm,with Galen, we have nine,good."

From nearby the holy man heard Sparrow as she looked at the cave, "No big surprise, the amulet says we go into the cave."
Then as he had done before the Knight Arien took command, "Be ready, this man - or whatever he is - is no friend. No decent person would be in such a place of evil as this, surrounded by the hunters in such a display. I fear a trap; prepare yourselves, friends, and fan out into combat formation." After his warning Arien stepped forward and drew Liun'naur. "You there, what is the meaning of this? Who dares to slay the servants of the Faerie Queen, and to disgrace their bodies so? What have you done with Galenthanus, son of Yolanda the Queen?"
Ody nocked an arrow and prepared to follow. He took his usual place near the middle of the party as they moved toward the bridge so he could heal the others when it was needed. With a will of spirit into the mail line hat he brought forth its power of true seeing to scan the bridge, the touch bearer and the surrounding for clues of what it really was, and hidden enemies, Invisible things, illusions and apparitions. The Shaman used his sight to determine if the bridge had more than it appeared. He checked the torch bearer and the serpent pillars as they must pass them to get to the cave. When they got close enough he would try to see if the hunters were more than dead bodies hanging as warning.

(OCC, Roger just ok's the hat in a limited use. I wrote it up but I forgot to send it and clear it with Roger. The "Old Timer's" is kicking in. He is such a nice man. Now I hope can remember my stuff to use it right at the right time.)

You approach the torchbearer cautiously, expecting danger but as you approach the man with the torch, you realize you are not facing a man at all. The eyes that face you are black and glossy, like glass and the skin is leathery and sworn together in places. This is the skin of a man formed over a body of sawdust and wood - like a taxidermist does with an animal. His clothing is that of a average peasant with homespun tunic and wool leggings. The mannequin with a human's skin just stares blankly towards the back of the cavern and the torch burns in his hand without consuming fuel.

As the group approached the torchbearer and Jarenion got a good eye on the thing, determining at a glance what it was and was not, he released a breath he had held for only an instant too long and, also, suspended the weaving of the protection from evil spell he had had in mind. He kept the formulae to the fore of his mind, though, as he was certain it would be needed ere long.

Lifting the brim of his hat with one end of his staff as he eyed the grotesque mannequin, Jarenion smirked a little. "Something of a scarecrow," the mage observed, aloud but more to himself than anyone else, "intended to scare other than crows." He craned his neck back, turning his violet eyes to the bodies of the hunters where they hanged above and mused; "Why ever a scarecrow in addition to the likes of that, though, is beyond comprehension,"

His lips pressed tightly together, drawing his mouth into something that was not quite a frown as his gaze lowered, again, to the faces of his companions. "The torch is the most obvious magic, here," he informed them, then, "a simple spell cast, likely, for the effect." A subtle jerk of his head to their rear was meant to indicate the cavern from which they'd emerged; "The rocks in the cave, there, belie a raw magic, as well, nothing formed or directed. Beyond that, there is nothing more arcane here, now, than those enchantments carried with us.

My spell has some time left," he finished, nodding to Arien, "I shall be sure to inform you if anything changes."

((OOC: Just a little fluff to follow up on the DMs torchbearer post and to pass on the intel J gleaned from detect magic, protection from evil, 10' on hold but pending, at the moment,As stated, Jarenion will be keeping mind to any forthconming results from that detect spell for the duration, if possible.))

A scarecrow? Arien wondered. But why? Surely the hanging bodies were warning enough?

The knight tried to not think too hard about what sort of evil would stitch together the skin of a man to make, in effect, a "No Trespassing" sign.

Before he could even get the words out to ask about possible enchantments, the elven mage had already reported his findings. All rather innocuous and expected... which, for some reason, made Arien all the more uneasy. "Thank you, my friend," he replied to the caster.

"Maximus," the knight spoke softly. "Check the... scarecrow and the surrounding area for traps, if you will. I would not be surprised to find that our enemies have drawn our attention to this macabre display, only to shoot us with poison darts or somesuch while we are distracted. Let us beware the skulls, the pillars, the hunters themselves."

He paused a moment. "I rather doubt that our enemies intend to allow us to simply stroll, unmolested, into the front door."

As Kadrin and his companions approached the torchbearer, it became clear that a mannequin bore the undying light. As if to highlight the wretched depravity and horror that lay waiting ahead of them, their host had left this "torchbearer", a scarecrow of sort with its skin sewn together with the flesh of men.

The tactic was not new to the old general. The orc filth of Pomarj seemed to relish in figuring out new ways to desecrate the bodied of Ulek's captured or slain sons. While the beasts regularly adorned themselves with the skulls of his brethren, he knew of one vile captain that would leave the bodies of the slain out to find, trapped with arcane runes that would explode when the bodies were moved. So, Kadrin was glad to hear the knight ask Maximus to be wary of any traps...

... and he was saddened too -- saddened by the wickedness found in this world that would cause men, less the century of life under their beards, to be wary of their dead. The sadness brought forcibly to his mind a battle not so long ago, an unholy memory that he wished would be forgotten.

...A small horde of Turrosh's forces had set up a secreted hold near Thunderstone and were making raids within the area. Kadrin had sent out four reconnaissance squads to locate the camp, but only one returned. Having the location, and wanting to press his advantage before the orc scum decided to move on, Kadrin had marched a superior force upon the fortified camp. Sure enough, a few of the bodies of his former troops hung from the battlements. Kadrin's warriors steeled themselves, letting their angst fuel a rage that would see the camp razed to the ground.

But this was no ordinary camp. Turrosh had sent a Black Captain. And when the gates of the camp opened Kadrin's troops found themselves face to face with their reanimated brethren, bloated bodies with sightless eyes and mouth's slavering, hungry for living flesh. Fathers, sons, and brothers, now undead puppets of their enemies. ..

...it had been the grimmest of days...
"Grimaz ungrim unbaraki..." Kadrin cursed as he came back to the present. The old general steeled himself once more and let the angst fuel his resolve to rid the world this bit of hell.

[OOC: Kadrin will check the stonework of the bridge to see if it appears stable.]