The Circle of Seven

                            Prologue: The Gathering


     His name was Mor'Dal, and he was having a bad day.  The blood and ichor
stains from the horde of Quill Rats he had killed earlier had long since dried
out and showed no indications of fading any time soon.  He glanced down yet
again at his favorite leather belt, wondering if even a protracted immersion
in a fast river would ever remove the dark stains.  Staining one's axe with
the blood of your enemies was one thing, and even the boots were a noble sign
of having waded through a minor vally of Death, but the belt...
     He shook his head to himself, the blue tattoo on his face seeming to glow
in the light of the sun.  No Barbarian should ever suffer that indignity, he
thought with a grunt.  The quiet shame of being an outcast from the Ael tribe
in the north gnawed at his heart on a daily basis, but the belt bothered him
far more than any Elder's harsh rejection could ever possibly haunt him.
     His train of thought interrupted itself of its own accord and he slowed
his pace instantly, suddenly wary of his surroundings.  He had never been this
far west before and was still getting used to the dangers that lurked in the
region, but his instincts told him that he was no longer alone.
     Let's just hope it isn't any more of those spiny things, he thought as
he briefly remembered how they had essentially turned his shield into a ruin,
a useless pin-cushion.  His brief musing was interrupted by the unmistakable
sound of a bow-string, followed by the slightly harrowing sight of an arrow
imbedding itself in the trunk of the tree not six inches in front of him.
     He twitched slightly, but otherwise remained outwardly calm.  How he felt
on the inside was another matter entirely, however, as he recognized a warning
shot when he saw one and realized that his already rough day had just gotten
significantly worse.
     Heavy arrow, he thought at the speed of light as he cast a quick but
critical eye on the arrow.  Probably fired from a short bow, close range.  The
feathers are high-quality, which usually means it's a human and not some other
type of monster.  A mixed blessing at best.
     "Nice aim," he said loudly in a calm voice, deliberately not looking
around to see who had fired it.  Now let's see what you're made of....
     "It helps in my profession," a strong feminine voice replied from a short
distance away.  "Put the axe down and put your hands in the air."
     He snorted in contempt at the request.  "A common thief, how quaint," he
replied as he crossed his arms, keeping a solid grip on his axe.  He turned
around to find a rather young woman pointing a short bow at him, an arrow at
the ready.  Her long blonde hair was tied up in an efficient but remotely
attractive pony-tail, presumably to keep her hair from getting tangled in the
bowstring.
     Her expression hardened as his reply and she pulled a little tighter on
the bow-string.  "If you think I'm here to rob you, you are quite mistaken,"
she said in an edged tone.  "This land belongs to the Sisters of the Sightless
Eye, and you are trespassing."
     He raised an eyebrow in response.  "I've seen no territorial markers," he
said warily.
     "One is right in front of you," she replied evenly.  "Do you want me to
show you another, Barbarian, or can you figure this one out on your own?"  She
blinked in surprise as he chuckled quietly in response to her challenge.
     "Ahh, yes," he said languidly, "I had forgotten how amusing your typical
Amazon arrogance was."  He shook his head in amusement and almost effortlessly
ripped the arrow out of the tree trunk.  "Your kind doesn't scare me, woman.
I am not here to encroach on your hunting grounds."
     "So what are you here for?" she demanded as she took some of the tension
off of the bow-string.  She was still wary of his presence so close to the
Rogue's Camp, but a voice in the back of her mind was telling her that there
wasn't any immediate danger from him.
     "Tristram is destroyed," he said flatly as he used the arrow to scratch
his back.  "I'm trying to find the one responsible for its destruction, and I
believe he passed through this way, heading east.  Evil is following him like
a wake follows a boat, and I intend on putting an end to this."
     She sighed and removed her arrow from the bow-string.  "It seems you're
far too late, then.  The Monastery that guards the gates to the East has been
taken over by all manner of foul demons and undead, and the gates have been
closed since."
     He snarled a curse and balled his hands into fists, putting a strain on
the axe-handle and causing the arrow to snap in half with a sharp crack.  "I
came from the north to see an old friend, only to find his lifeless corpse.  I
have sacrificed much for this journey, and I will not have it be in vain.  His
murder and the destruction of Tristram will be avenged."
     She paused and tilted her head slightly, studying the Barbarian in a new
light.  "Then it seems we share a common goal," she said.  "The Sisters have
lost many of their number against this sudden evil, and I too seek vengeance
for my own reasons.  My name is Cera Giang."
     He bowed his head slightly in respect.  "I am Mor'Dal."
     Cera nodded back to him.  "There is an encampment of those who were able
to escape the horrors of the monastery not too far from here.  I think it best
if you were to talk to their leader about what you know, and likewise listen
to what she has to say."
     He grunted quietly to himself, not particuarly pleased with the notion of
dealing with another Elder, even if she wasn't a tribal leader.  "Then let us
be on our way, for the hordes of evil never seem to rest."
     She would have smiled at his impatience if she too didn't hold the same
tenets about the legions of demons rumored to be assembling somewhere in the
region.  "This way," she said with a gesture and started walking.

                *               *               *               *

     "So tell me about your homeland," Cera said in an effort to start up a
conversation.  She was used to the sometimes peaceful sound of silence when in
the forests, but rarely did she prefer to remain quiet when in the company of
other travellers and warriors.
     Mor'Dal grunted quietly at the request.  "I come from the frozen north,"
he said simply.  "A bleak land of snow and ice."
     She cast him a sidelong glance as she realized that he wasn't going to
offer any further details.  "Surely there's more to it than that," she said
gently as they both slowed down and gave a passing skunk a very wide berth.
The woodland creature ignored them both, intent on following the scent of some
creature that had gotten its interest.
     He shrugged dismissively.  "Some have said the landscape is nice when the
setting sun strikes it in the right way.  I have never been able to find such
beauty in something so barren or forsaken."
     She glanced at him again and blinked, noticing the way his jaw was set.
Guess he doesn't want to talk about it, she thought as she briefly studied the
lines of his cheeks and chin.  Such a strong jaw, she mused.  Almost looks to
be chisled from stone.  Then again, if you live in a frozen land, you probably
need it....  She shook her head to herself and mentally shrugged.
     The faint sound registered in their brains at the same time, a distant
curse muttered in a demonic tongue.  They immediately became wary of their
surroundings, the arrow knocking itself into her bow almost subconsciously as
his axe slipped from his blood-stained belt and into his hand.  Cautiously,
they left the worn trail of the forest and slipped deeper into the woods.
     "Great," Cera muttered to herself as they caught a fleeting glimpse of a
red-skinned demon bearing a glowing torch.
     He grunted quietly, a subconscious habit common to all Barbarians when
thinking about something.  "Can you hit it from here?" he said very quietly.
     She shook her head.  "Hitting them isn't the problem, it's keeping them
down.  They're called the Fallen, and where there's one, there's several."
     "A warm-up exercise," he said dismissively.
     She shot him a dark look, her crystal blue eyes narrowed slightly.  "The
problem lies in the fact that there is also usually a shaman of sorts leading
the group.  He's a real pain in the ass because he can resurrect the others if
they get killed."
     He grimaced at the concept.  "Amusing."
     "Your sense of humor needs work," she observed, mostly to herself.
     He glanced back at her.  "An Amazon who doesn't understand sarcasm?"
     She just rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the whispering
voices several dozen yards away.  "What we need to do is take out the shaman
first, then we can mop up the others.  Can I cut you a deal?"
     A hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lip.  "Your arrows provide
a distraction while I hunt down this shaman and cleave his skull in half?" he
suggested casually.
     She laughed very softly to herself.  "And they said that Barbarians were
stupid," she muttered, drawing an unamused grunt in reply.
     "I'll have to talk to whomever told you that," he said ominously.  "One
question before I go.... how will I know which one is the shaman?"
     "You can't miss him, trust me," she said as she made sure she had enough
arrows in her quiver to cope with multiple targets at the same time.
     "Trust you?" he echoed as he gave her a piercing look.
     Her eyes met his, and for one brief moment she found herself quite lost
in their bottomless-black depths.  She blinked and quickly refocused, giving
him a curt nod.  "Yes, trust me," she said as she stood up and silently moved
behind another tree for better aim.
     He grunted quietly as he stood up, making sure he had a tight grip on his
axe.  Let's get this one over with, he thought as he mentally estimated the
best path to the nearest demon and took off running.
     "What are you doing, you idiot?" Cera whispered to herself in dismay as
she watched the Barbarian charge headlong into the small crowd of demons,
ruining her perfect shot.  Grumbling to herself, she quickly started to weave
a path in and out of the trees, angling for the best sniper shot possible.
     The demons all paused as they heard the rustling noises from the forest,
wondering what was making the sounds.  They promptly scattered like leaves in
the wind as the armed figure seemed to explode from the forest, a fierce shout
deafening them as his axe neatly lopped off the head of the nearest Fallen.
"Die, demons!" he snarled as he picked a new target and lashed out.
     One of the demons ran screaming towards the red-skinned demon holding a
glowing banner, jabbering away furiously and gesturing to the corpse that had
just hit the ground.  The shaman roared furiously as the demon's head suddenly
seemed to explode outward, an arrow protruding from the side of its skull.  It
made a gesture towards the distant corpse as it swung the tapestry around, a
ball of fire blasting out from the mystical runes it carried.
     Mor'Dal was busy extracting his axe from the depths of another Fallen's
skull when he noticed both the glow surrounding the first corpse and the ball
of fire being launched nearby.  He tugged his axe free and lashed out at the
resurrected demon as it stood up, burying the weapon's edge in its regenerated
head.  "I said die," he snarled as he wrenched his axe free, sending an unholy
spray of blood and brains arcing through the air.  The sight of such carnage
completely terrified the rest of the Fallen and again they scattered like so
many leaves in the wind.  He let loose with another piercing battle-cry as he
charged forward towards the shaman, his axe held at the ready.
     Cera had her own problems at the moment as she ducked behind a tree to
avoid the worst of the small fireball.  She felt the heat wash over her as it
splattered against the tree trunk, sending a shower of burning embers in all
directions.  She counted to three, then leapt out from behind the smouldering
tree to unleash three arrows in rapid succession, two aimed at nearby Fallen
and the third at the problematic shaman.
     The Amazon's arrow caught the shaman in the kneecap just as the Barbarian
got close enough to put his full weight behind a viscious slash.  The result
was that the shaman promptly fell on the ground, bleeding from two places and
gasping for life as dark blood sprayed out from his severed trachea.
     Mor'Del wasted no time in turning his attention to the remaining Fallen,
lashing out at the nearest one and neatly ripping it open from its throat to
what passed for its navel.  The sight of the demon's viscera spilling forth
was more than enough to send the other Fallen running for their lives.
     He grunted in quiet amusement as two more fell prey to the Amazon's swift
arrows before they vanished from sight.  He bent down to wipe his axe on the
front of the shaman's hide armor, looking around for anything that might have
been dropped that could be of use.
     "Not bad," Cera said as she approached, likewise looking around.
     "An interesting workout," he conceded as a flash of gold caught his eye.
He reached out and picked up the small pouch that had fallen from the shaman's
belt.  "Not to mention slightly rewarding."
     She moved next to him and almost slipped in a puddle of guts.  "Oh, ick,"
she said as she wrinkled her nose in disgust.  "You always make such a mess?"
     "A squeamish Amazon?" he grunted in amusement.
     She raised an eyebrow at him.  "Not quite," she said as she bent down to
pull the bone knife out of the shaman's belt.  She sliced his chest open with
a quick slash and reached inside, causing Mor'Del to raise his eyebrows in
mild surprise and curiosity.
     "Lunch?" she inquired casually as she ripped the shaman's heart out from
his chest and held it up to him, blood running freely down her hand.
     He glanced up at her, giving her a measured look.  "You're bluffing," he
finally said.
     She returned the level stare for a moment before glancing down at the
oozing mass in her hand.  "You're right," she finally admitted with a sigh as
she tossed the heart into the grass and wiped her hand on the corpse's armor.
She glanced up and was surprised to see him staring intently at her.  "What?"
     He said nothing as he licked his fingertip and reached out, pressing it
against the burning ember that was still smoking on her shoulder.  There was a
soft sizzling noise as the ember was extinguished and he shrugged casually.
"Probably from that fireball," he grunted.
     "Whoops, must've missed that," she said as she tried to twist her neck in
such a way as to let her see the small scorch mark on her padded armor.
     "I see you didn't miss much else," he commented as he examined one of the
Fallen corpses.  The arrow had almost completely blown through the demon on
impact, the shaft buried up to the feathers in the back and creating quite a
mess in the process.
     Cera shrugged casually and tried wiping off the carbon residue on her
shoulder.  "I aim to please," she said lightly, suppressing a chuckle as he
grunted quietly at her joke.
     "So does that mean you're as good with pleasure as you are at aiming?" he
suggested with a sardonic grin, raising his eyebrows slightly.
     She blinked hard and took a step back, caught off-guard by the crudeness
of the comment.  "You really are a Barbarian, I see," she said flatly.
     "It keeps me amused," he replied as he resumed searching around the area
for more treasure.  She scowled and was about to frame a reply when a shriek
of pain reached them, seeming to come from the direction the retreating demons
had taken only a minute ago.
     "That wasn't a human cry," she cautioned as they both tensed again, the
bow unconsciously slipping back into her hand.
     Mor'Dal nodded as he hefted his axe.  "Good," he said curtly and began to
carefully move towards the source of the sound.
     "Good?" she echoed warily as she eyed the contents of her quiver, making
sure she wouldn't run out of arrows at a rather inconvenient time.
     He paused only long enough to cast a bemused glance over his shoulder.
"More entertainment," he grunted before focusing on the stand of bushes they
were approaching.  He blinked and froze in place as he heard the sound of
something thrashing around in the bushes with reckless abandon.  "Now what?"
     "What?" she demanded quietly, then blinked hard as one of the escaped
Fallen burst out from the bushes in a panicked frenzy.  It stopped dead in its
tracks as it spotted the two humans who had terrorized it before, yammering
away at a rapid-fire pace in its native tongue.
     The demon turned around to run the opposite way when a skeleton stepped
out from the bushes and promptly ran its sword through the demon's face.  The
unholy scream lasted only for a moment before the Fallen went limp and the
rusted sword was almost casually yanked free from the still-standing corpse.
The skeleton watched the demon fall to the ground before turning its gaze on
the humans, twin pinpoints of crimson burning in the skull's eye sockets.
     "Oh, shit," Cera muttered.  "Undead.  I hate Undead."
     Mor'Dal said nothing as he stood as still as a statue, carefully watching
the Undead minion and waiting for it to make a move.  Much to his surprise,
however, the skeleton merely stood there and looked back at them, making no
sort of hostile or aggressive movement to attack.
     "Why is it just standing there?" she whispered to him, clearly unnerved
at the sight of the skeletal warrior.
     He grunted quietly in reply.  "Would you prefer it was attacking us?  I
think it's a minion under a sorcerer's orders," he said quietly, still keeping
his full attention focused on the skeleton.
     "Wonderful," she sighed as she glanced around.  "So who's minion is it?"
     "That would be mine," a voice said calmly as a figure stepped out from
behind a tree.  Behind him, another skeletal warrior moved past a stand of
bushes in eerie silence, taking up a defensive position between its master and
the other humans.
     Mor'Dal grunted quietly as he carefully studied the new arrival.  A vest
of well-used leather protected most of his body, and a pair of skulls served
as shoulder guards.  His skin was the pale complexion of one who rarely spent
any great length of time in direct sunlight, and his ash-gray hair had long
ago started to turn white with premature age.
     "Let me guess, a Necromancer," Mor'Dal said flatly with obvious distaste.
     "Indeed," he said with a slight bow of his head.  "I am Lord Khyron of
the kingdom of Westmarch, at your service."
     Cera relaxed slightly, still casting frequent and nervous glances at the
skeletons.  "Cera Giang of Kehjistan," she said as calmly as she could.
     Khyron's eyebrows rose.  "An Amazon?  You are a little far from home at
the moment, my dear," he said casually.  "However, not as far as our tattooed
friend here.  If I didn't know better, I'd say that one on your shoulder is
from the Ael clan, which inhabits a very distant and remote tundra."
     Mor'Dal merely grunted while Cera blinked in surprise.  "You seem to know
an awful lot for someone who spends their time playing in graveyards," Mor'Dal
muttered as he cast a leery glance at the skeletons.  The first one hadn't so
much as moved an inch yet, and the second was was still standing in a rather
protective stance between them.
     Khyron waved a hand in dismissal.  "You would be surprised what kind of
lore and arcana you can learn from the dead, if you stop to look for it.  I'd
have thought a Barbarian like you would revel in death."
     "Visiting Death upon the deserving, yes," he grunted with a gesture to
the Fallen corpse.  "Once they're dead, however, they are no longer a threat
and not worth my time."
     The necromancer chuckled quietly.  "Don't be so sure, my friend," he
cautioned as he took a wand out of his vest and pointed it at the corpse.
     Cera made a strangled noise in her throat and took a hasty step back as
the corpse started to twitch.  She watched in wide-eyed wonder as the Fallen's
body continued to move around briefly before it jerked violently and seemed to
suddenly explode in a shower of unholy ichor and gore.
     Mor'Dal grunted and stood perfectly still as tiny bits of flesh and blood
splattered the front of his armor.  "I am not impressed," he proclaimed as the
corpse's remains ceased to twitch.
     Khyron sighed and returned the wand to his pocket.  "Frankly, neither am
I," he admitted.  "I've been researching an ancient spell that would let me
reanimate a demonic corpse, but I have had very little success.  Unless, of
course, you count making such bodies explode harmlessly a success."
     "Let me know when you can make them explode when still alive," Mor'Dal
suggested with a shrug before turning to walk away.  "Then we can talk about
the usefulness of magic."
     "Hey, wait," Cera said quickly as she grabbed his elbow.  "His magic may
come in handy if we have to fight any more of those demons."
     Mor'Dal paused and turned around to face her.  "It will take more than
popping corpses to defeat this evil menace," he grunted.
     Khyron cleared his throat quietly.  "If I may be so bold, I assume that
the two of you are aware of what has happened recently?"
     The barbarian grunted in reply.  "If you mean the destruction of Tristram
and the infestation of evil surrounding it, yes.  I intend to put an end to
this menace once and for all."
     "I see," Khyron replied, nodding his head in understanding and agreement.
"And I presume, my dear, that you are assisting him in this venture?"
     "For the time being," Cera said.  "We currently share a common goal, so I
thought it best that we ally ourselves against this evil."
     The necromancer smiled to himself.  "As we all seem to agree that this is
a most serious development, I should like to offer my aid and services to the
two of you in your joint venture.  Granted I am not exactly suited to dealing
with demons and the like directly, but I assure you that my army is more than
capable of standing in my stead."
     Mor'Dal looked around and snorted.  "You call a pair of Undead skeletons
an army?" he challenged, prodding the exploded remains of the demon's corpse
with his boot.
     Khyron sighed and glanced over at him.  "They are but the first to heed
my summons.  Assembling an army takes time, even when drawing your ranks from
paid soldiers among the living.  Rest assured that I will have a sufficiently
capable force ready when the time comes.  I can make their task, and yours,
somewhat easier once I apply a few suitable curses to any foes we encounter."
     "Magic," the barbarian spat.  "Spare me your archaic mumblings, old man,
I will show you how one truly deals with evil forces."
     The necromancer sighed quietly again and made a gesture.  "Then lead on,
my friend, and I shall witness for myself what you boast of."
     Cera just shook her head as Mor'Dal turned around and headed off.  "Don't
ask me what his problem is," she said quietly.
     "Odd," Khyron observed casually.  "He acts just like every other Barbarian
I have encountered in my time, so I fail to see the problems you speak of."
     "Nevermind," the amazon sighed as she looked around.  She blinked as she
caught sight of a rather old trail marker, a seemingly random arrangement of
river-worn stones piled together by the stump of a dead tree.  "Mor'Dal!" she
called out, waving her hand to get the barbarian's attention.
     "What?" he demanded, twisting around to give her an irritated look.
     She resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she pointed behind her.  "The
Sisters' camp is that way," she said as calmly as she could.
     Mor'Dal scowled at her for a moment before he glanced over at his side.
His scowl deepened as he realized that one of the skeleton minions was right
next to him, still remaining perfectly motionless and seeming to stare at him
with those burning red eyes.
     "What are you looking at?" he demanded.
     Khyron made a quiet noise of amusement to himself as he made a subtle
gesture with his hand.  Both skeletons immediately turned around and started
walking towards him, ignoring the barbarian and the demonic corpses.  He cast
a glance at Cera as she made a strangled noise deep in her throat, clearly
uneasy with the presence of the Undead.  "Easy, my dear, they are completely
under my control and are nothing to worry about," he said soothingly.
     "We'll see," she replied quietly as she set off down the trail.

                *               *               *               *

     Cera sighed and glanced around the forest with unease.  "Is it just me,
or does something feel wrong?" she said in a low tone as they walked along the
ancient forest trail.  Both skeleton minions were scouting the trail ahead of
them while Mor'Dal was quietly following behind them at a short distance.
     "Mmmm," Khyron hummed to himself as he looked around as well.  "Strange,
now that you mention it.... something does feel a little unusual.  When was the
last time you remember hearing any wildlife noises?"
     That stopped her in her tracks, the bow slipping from her shoulder into
her hand.  "Several minutes ago," she replied in a quiet but flat tone.  She
paused to listen, a frown forming on her face as she realized that the usually
noisy forest was dangerously quiet at the moment.
     "What now?" Mor'Dal grunted quietly as he caught up with the group, idly
removing the axe from his belt and looking around carefully.
     "It's quiet," Cera replied.  "Too quiet.  Listen for yourself."
     The barbarian paused to listen, briefly closing his eyes to concentrate.
He grunted softly in acknowledgement of the situation and slowly turned around,
casting a critical eye on the forest around him.
     "Wait," Khyron said softly, slipping the wand out of his vest and holding
it tightly in one hand.  He closed his eyes and started to move the tip of the
wand around in a slow pattern.  "There is a strange device on the trail ahead
of us," he said.  He muttered something in an eldritch language and made a
gesture with the wand, sending a series of instructions to his minions.
     The necromancer opened his eyes and sighed as something exploded on the
trail ahead of them, the sound of bones being broken echoing quite clearly.
"Well, that was not entirely unexpected," he grumbled.  "A fire trap, and a
rather ingenious one at that.  I almost lost both of them."
     "So much for your army," Mor'Dal snorted in contempt.
     Khyron raised an eyebrow in response.  "Would you prefer to have found it
yourself, then?  It had a proximity fuse, which meant that you probably would
have set it off before you saw it.  This way, the only cost was something that
was rather disposable to begin with."
     "He has a point," Cera added quietly, still glancing around the terrain
with unease.  She blinked as she saw the skeleton walk into view ahead of the
group, small plumes of smoke drifting up from its body.  "What happened?" she
asked the necromancer, eyeing the smoking minion.
     "It appeared to have been a small pyrotechnic charge," Khyron mused as the
skeleton drew near and came to a halt in front of him.  He looked it over for
signs of damage as well as examining the still-smoking powdered remains coating
parts of its body.  "Strange...."
     "Speak, Necromancer," Mor'Dal grunted with impatience.
     "It appears to have been a purely mechanical device," Khyron said as he
wiped some of the residue off his minion to take an even closer look.  "This
powder....  I haven't seen something like this in years, not since...."
     "I'd be careful with that if I were you," a female voice said casually,
seeming to come from the forest around them.  "Too much heat and that powder
will ignite with rather nasty results.  Very useful for killing things."
     The three of them suddenly tensed and unconsciously moved closer, each
looking outward and putting their backs to one another.  Mor'Dal tightened the
grip on his axe while Cera nocked an arrow to her bow, her eyes scanning the
forest for the source of the sound.
     "What is the meaning of this?" Khyron called out in a surprisingly gentle
but neutral tone, his free hand becoming outlined in ghostly blue fire.  "We
seek no quarrel with anyone, save for the evil plaguing this land."
     There was a soft laugh, the sound seeming to be getting closer.  "What is
evil, hmm?" the voice mused.  "It can be such a relative concept.  Raising the
dead as slaves can be viewed by some as an evil thing...."
     "Perhaps," Khyron conceded.  "But the same might be said of attempting to
waylay travellers by setting deadly traps for them.  Are you a bandit, then?
Come to rob us of what valuables we might possess?"
     "Oh, please," the voice said with obvious contempt.  "If I was a petty
thief, I think I'd be able to do something as mundane as pick your pockets and
not alert you to my presence.  Speaking loosely of which, I like the cut of
your armor, archer.  Nothing like an open neckline to draw a little attention
to oneself, but like you have to worry about drawing a man's eye...."
     Cera blinked and reflexively glanced down at her neckline, a puzzled look
forming on her face as she saw nothing out of the ordinary.  Her collar was
open and the laces tied slightly loose, but that only left a tiny hint of her
feminine curves exposed to anyone looking straight at her.  Unless....
     She tilted her head back to look straight up.  She gasped in surprise as
she saw a woman in a tight-fitting suit hanging down from a vine above them,
almost close enough for her to reach up and touch.  She yelped and jumped back
by reflex, bumping hard into Mor'Dal and Khyron and sending all three of them
sprawling.
     "Oooo," the woman winced in sympathy as there was a series of foul curses
and muttered obscenities as they tried to scramble to their feet.  "You really
need to watch where you're going, you know.  Reactions like that can easily get
you killed out here."
     "Who are you?" Mor'Dal demanded with a snarl as he finally suceeded in
standing up.  He ignored the grunt of protest as Khyron took his time standing
up, apparently favoring a joint or two.
     The woman smirked and suddenly flexed, performing a back-flip to land on
her feet in front of the party.  "Just someone who has a job to do and doesn't
care for interference," she said casually.  "You may call me Taki."
     "Lord Khyron of Westmarch," Khyron replied as he casually dusted himself
off.  "My companions Cera Giang of Kehjistan, and Mor'Dal of the Highlands."
He blinked as he spotted the pair of oddly-shaped weapons on her belt, a small
piece of ancient lore filtering up from the depths of his memory.  "Are those
katars, by chance?" he inquired, gesturing with his wand.
     The woman suddenly tensed and regarded him warily.  "Maybe," she replied.
"They're called many things in many lands, you know, and I can't keep them all
straight.  Why do you ask?"
     Khyron gave her a gentle smile of understanding.  "I see....  You're one
of the Mage-Slayers, aren't you?"
     Taki blinked and frowned.  "We've been called that, yes," she said in a
guarded tone.  "What of it, Necromancer?"
     "Indeed," Mor'Dal added, giving the dark-haired woman an appraising look.
"I don't see anything wrong with killing mages, especially the evil ones."
     "Mmm, thank you," Taki purred, causing Cera to roll her eyes at her tone.
     Khyron just shook his head.  "The problem, my barbaric friend, is that
such Assassins don't always confine their skills to rogue magic-users," he
cautioned, giving Taki a mild look.  "I have heard more than a few reports of
highly-skilled mercenaries being hired to.... shall we say, enlighten someone
as to the errors of their ways, whatever they might be and without regard to
their justification."
     "Sounds like fun," Mor'Dal grunted.
     "Depending on the assignment," Taki replied with a stretch that made her
muscles and a few other portions of her anatomy flex impressively.  "It's not
often that I have to deal with a necromancer, but I must say you seem to be a
little more.... warm than the rest of your kind.  And I don't mean that just
because you're still alive," she added with a soft smile.
     Cera just shook her head.  "I'm not even going to ask," she muttered.
     "You insult me, my dear," Khyron replied with a faint sneer.  "I am a
noble, after all, and so of course I know how to be sociable with other like-
minded individuals."
     "Would that be with the living or the dead?" Mor'Dal inquired gruffly.
     "Does it matter?" Khyron replied.  "The one will become the other sooner
or later.  It all depends on which point in the process you wish to focus on
in greater detail.  Before I become side-tracked, my dear, I take it that you
are the one who left the fire trap on the trail?"
     "Guilty," the assassin replied demurely.  "I figured that they were just
two more of the countless Undead I've seen roaming around here recently.  You
have my apologies for the destruction of your minion."
     "There's more Undead around here?" Cera inquired warily.
     "Hordes," Taki assured her.
     "Lovely," Mor'Dal grunted.
     "I wouldn't worry about it," Taki replied as she stretched again.  "I'm
sure a group of upstanding adventurers like yourselves can handle them."
     Khyron raised an eyebrow, only partly at the way the exposed portion of
her cleavage flexed in response to her motions.  "And what about you?"
     The assassin gave him a gentle smile before she suddenly became a blur,
spinning around on her heel as her other foot whipped around in a high kick.
Her foot came to a sudden stop barely an inch away from the side of his head,
the muscles in her leg visibly tense from the sheer power needed to both start
and stop such a move in an instant.
     "I think I can deal with most of what I find," she purred.
     "Indeed," Khyron replied, allowing his eyes to wander down the length of
her well-muscled leg.  She gave him a smirk as she noticed his attentions,
holding the pose for a moment longer than necessary before very slowly moving
her leg back down.  She took her time in doing so, demonstrating her muscular
strength and superb sense of balance.
     "A fighter," Mor'Dal grunted in approval.  "Now that is something we can
use in this battle against the evil.  We are on a journey to stop this before
it can consume the entire land and more innocent lives are lost."
     "Sounds important," Taki mused as she ran her hand through her short hair.
"I happen to be looking for someone myself, a rather powerful magic-user who
needs to have something explained to him.  I'm not sure if we have the same
goal, but I suppose I can travel with you for awhile."
     "How kind of you," Cera muttered dryly.
     Taki raised an eyebrow and regarded her carefully.  "Don't tell me you're
upset about the comment about your neckline," she ventured.  "That was a bit
of a compliment, I assure you."
     Cera was about to reply when the skeleton minion suddenly turned its head
and started walking, brushing past the group as if they didn't exist.  "Hey,
what's his problem?" the amazon inquired warily.
     "Something approaches," Khyron warned.  He raised his wand up and began
to move the tip around in a slow pattern, closing his eyes as he focused his
attention on his minion.  "Zombies," he whispered in a low tone.
     "Zombies?" Mor'Dal echoed with a scowl.
     "A slightly higher form of Undead," Khyron replied.  "The magic used to
animate them is strong enough to keep the flesh attached to the bones, so they
possess a few physical traits that mere skeletons do not."
     "More Undead," Cera sighed, shivering lightly.  "I *hate* Undead."
     Taki shrugged in dismissal, casually unhooking her katars from her belt.
"Look on the bright side," she said to Cera.  "If they have flesh, it means it
can be cleaved off.  Maybe it's just me, but I find flesh a lot easier to cut
open than bone.  Oh, stop that," she added as Mor'Dal grunted.
     "Can your minion deal with them?" the barbarian asked Khyron, ignoring
Taki's comment.
     Khyron just shook his head, still focused intently on his minion.  "One
zombie, yes.  Maybe even two.  But there are four of them, and I'm sensing a
very powerful enchantment surrounding one.  These are no ordinary zombies," he
cautioned.
     "Four of them?" Cera echoed, her expression turning sour.
     "One for each of us," Taki replied with a faint smile.  "Surely you can
take one down yourself, right?  I said stop that," she sighed as Mor'Dal made
another quiet grunting noise to himself.
     "I'll think about leaving one for you to play with," he replied darkly as
he started to head down the trail, his axe held at the ready.
     "One moment, my friend," Khyron said as he looked up with a faint hint of
amusement in his eye.  "Zombies move slowly, and we have a few moments to plan
for their arrival.  I even have an idea as to how we can welcome them...."

                *               *               *               *

     The zombies seemed to take their time lumbering down the path, their gray
skins seeming to barely be able to hold on to their rotting frames.  They were
arranged in a group, the apparent leader surrounded by his three associates in
a loose triangle pattern.  The air around them seemed to whisper and shiver
with cold, a side-effect of the supernatural power that animated them.
     A series of soft sounds caused them to halt in unison, carefully looking
around them for the source.  Thinking was definitely not their strong suit, as
the spark of unlife they had been given did not include an overly bright spark
of intellect.  After determining that there was nothing of interest in their
immediate vicinity, they continued to head down the trail at a slow pace.
     Their travels were interrupted again a few moments later as a skeleton
stepped out from behind a tree, seeming to block the path ahead of them.  The
zombies paused for a moment to analyze this, not immediately sure it posed a
threat to them or not.  They were used to other Undead, such as it were, in the
service of their master, and so they paused to see if it was one of their own
or something to be destroyed.
     The skeleton was fully intact in all aspects, including every bone in the
hand.  When it raised its left hand to render a universally-recognized sign of
disrespect, the zombies took that to mean that it was not one of their own.
The lead zombie seemed to moan to the others as they all began to shamble as
fast as they could, heading in the direction of the flippant skeleton.  The low
moaning sound lasted for precisely three seconds before the zombie's right foot
came down on a small metal object, causing it to click.
     A small fireball promptly erupted from the ground, immolating the zombie
that had stepped on the trap and scorching the rest.  The damage was minimal,
but it was enough to disorient them for a moment.  Two more explosive charges
went off around them, triggered by the ignition of the first one.  This only
added to the confusion, causing the zombies to look around for foes in every
direction.
     And much to their surprise, they found exactly that.
     Mor'Dal and Taki seemed to explode out from around the trees, charging
forward to engage the nearest zombie.  Cera and Khyron stepped out from behind
the tree where the skeleton had emerged, the amazon's bow already drawn and
targeting the first zombie she could see through the cloud of smoke from the
pyrotechnic charges.
     Khyron pointed his wand at the zombies, his whole body outlined in pale
blue flames as he muttered a curse in an arcane language.  The zombies seemed
to ignite as if suddenly bathed in fire, ghostly purple flames running up and
down their bodies.  An instant later, Cera started firing arrows as rapidly as
she could at the zombie who burned with both spectral and real fire.
     The three zombies fell virtually in unison, the burning zombie having its
chest and skull almost blown inside-out by the impact of the arrows.  MorDal's
axe found very little resistance as it literally cleaved a zombie in half at
the waist, while Taki decapitated her opponent with a scissor-like motion of
her razor-sharp katars.
     The remaining zombie seemed to pause, apparently trying to decide which
living opponent to target first.  Its hesitation proved to be a fatal mistake,
however, as both barbarian and assassin immediately lunged at it.  The axe hit
home square in the center of the skull from the front while both katar neatly
slid into the creature's back, trisecting its spine into three chunks.
     A horrified gasp escaped Cera's lips as the zombie seemed to explode, an
icy blue wave of energy erupting around it and spreading outwards in the blink
of an eye.  Both Mor'Dal and Taki were thrown back, crumpling to the ground and
shivering hard.  What was left of the zombie seemed to freeze solid, only to
break apart into tiny chips of ice.
     "A trap?!" Cera gasped in shock.
     "A freezing curse," Khyron spat as he darted towards the fallen warriors.
He reached Taki's side and knelt down, reaching into his belt pouch to extract
a pair of vials holding a thick, viscous yellow fluid.  "Here," he said as he
tossed one to Cera.  "Give that to the barbarian, it will dispel the curse.  I
don't want you to take this the wrong way, my dear, but I need you to trust me
and open your mouth," he said quietly to Taki as he opened the vial.
     "C-C-C-C-Cold...." Taki whispered, shivering violently.
     "This will warm you up," he assured her as he carefully poured the liquid
into her mouth.  "Don't try to stop to taste it, just swallow.  There you go,"
he added as she complied.
     "Don't move," Cera said to Mor'Dal as he struggled to stand up.
     "It's.... only.... cold...." he grunted through chattering teeth.  "I....
am.... used.... to.... it...."
     "Sure you are," Cera sighed as she opened the vial.  She paused in mid-
motion as she noticed Taki bolting upright into a sitting position, her face
positively green with nausea.
     "By the Gods!" she gasped, holding both hands to her mouth.
     "There is little to be done about the taste," Khyron said, giving her an
apologetic pat on the shoulder.  "However, a bad aftertaste is usually better
than the alternative."
     "Wonderful," Cera muttered to herself as she carefully leaned over the
still-shivering barbarian.  "Just be a man and drink this," she said as she
poured the contents into his mouth and quickly jumped back, wary for any sudden
reaction he might have.  She heard the sound of a hard swallow, followed by a
somewhat explosive gasp for breath.  Much to her surprise, however, Mor'Dal
calmly opened his eyes and sat up, absently licking his lips with a curious
expression.
     "What.... was that?" he said with a soft grunt, carefully flexing his arms
to try to restore circulation.
     "An antidote of sorts," Khyron said as he drew near them.  "It won't cure
any toxins in the blood, but it will purge certain curses from the body."
     There was a quiet coughing noise from Taki as she rose to her knees, her
complexion still somewhat green.  "I believe it," she gasped.  "I think it'll
end up purging lunch as well.  Have you ever had to taste that foul stuff?" she
demanded of Khyron.
     "Every time I have to brew them," he replied with a rueful chuckle.
     "Do you cook as well?" Mor'Dal inquired as he carefully got to his feet,
still trying to shake off the lingering effects of the freezing curse.
     "I do," the necromancer replied quietly.  "Why do you ask?"
     Mor'Dal grunted quietly as he gave him a satisfied look.  "If your cooking
tastes like your potions, I might actually be able to enjoy your company."
     "Thank you, I think," Khyron replied after a slight pause.
     "Are you kidding?" Taki demanded as she rose to her feet, seeming to be
mostly recovered.  "That had to be the nastiest thing I've tasted in years!"
     Mor'Dal simply shrugged.  "I had no problems with the taste."
     Cera and Khyron exchanged glances before they both shrugged.  "While the
ingredients for that particular antidote are.... unsavory even when fresh," the
necromancer said slowly, "I assure you that I am able to procure a palatable
meal when required to."
     "Let's hope so," Taki muttered as she bent down to retrieve her katars.
"Well, that was an adventure.  So what do we do with the mess?" she asked.
     "Let the worms enjoy a feast," Mor'Dal grunted as he picked up his axe and
carefully examined it for damage.
     A soft smile crossed over Khyron's face as he pulled his wand out from his
pocket.  "If the three of you will be so kind as to stand back?" he said in a
light tone.  He waited until they had warily withdrawn from the immediate area
before he closed his eyes and turned his focus inward.  Harsh syllables of an
arcane language fell from his lips as he gathered energy together, weaving a
complex curse that outlined his entire body in ghostly blue flames.
     "I don't like this," Cera said quietly, nervously watching both Khyron and
the three zombie corpses.
     Taki wrinkled her nose in distain, having seen the spell cast before by
another necromancer.  "You're going to like what comes next even less, then,"
she warned the other woman as she edged back even farther.
     "Arise," Khyron intoned as he made a sweeping gesture with the tip of his
wand.  The three corpses seemed to twitch for several seconds before the flesh
was suddenly stripped off in a gory explosion.  The sound of bones being broken
could be clearly heard as the now-exposed bones started to rise up into the
air, assembling into a pair of skeletal warriors.  The remaining set of bones
started to float as well before cracking further and crumbling into a chalky
white dust.
     "Told you," Taki said quietly as Cera made a strangled noise deep in her
throat.  "Be glad he had the courtesy to ask us to step back.  The last time I
saw this happen, I ended up covered in a bloody mess from the waist on down."
     Mor'Dal crossed his arms over his massive chest and grunted quietly to
himself.  "It just makes it easier for the worms to eat," he observed.
     A soft sigh rose up from Khyron's lips as the spectral flames surrounding
him vanished, seeming to take a physical toll on him in the process.  "Well,"
he said in a quiet voice, "I suppose I can settle for two out of three.  That
one must have had osteoporosis in life," he mused, studying the powder that was
all that remained of the third zombie.
     "Was that necessary?" Cera finally managed to say, her blood still quite
chilled from watching the unholy reanimation take place in front of her.
     Khyron paused and cast a measured look over his shoulder at her.  "Would
you prefer that I had let them be?" he inquired in a casual tone.  "Try to keep
in mind that the same power that animated them the first time could easily have
done so again if the bodies were more or less intact.  This way, I have not
only removed a potential threat, I but have also expanded the ranks of my army.
There is a saying.... keep your friends close, but your enemies even closer."
     Taki chuckled quietly to herself as she secured her katars to the loops on
her belt.  "Nothing like a dose of practical cynicism to help keep things in
perspective," she mused.
     The necromancer shrugged in reply as he returned his wand to his pocket.
"I am not sure about the cynicism aspect, but as a practical measure I was in
need of a replacement minion after our initial encounter with you."
     "Nice to know you don't hold a grudge," she replied with a smirk.  She
sighed quietly as she heard yet another sub-vocal grunt from Mor'Dal, turning
to give him a slightly disturbed look.  "Must you keep doing that?"
     "Our enemies are now worm-food," Mor'Dal stated flatly, slipping his axe
into his belt.  "It is time to move on.  Which way now, Amazon?"
     Cera blinked at the bluntness of his question and sighed.  "That way," she
said with a gesture of her bow.  "Impatient lout," she muttered quietly as he
headed off without saying another word.
     "Impatience is a virtue," Taki suggested coyly before she started after
the tattooed warrior, making sure to give the trio of skeletons a wide berth.
     "You know," Khyron said slowly, pausing only long enough to direct one of
the newly-risen skeletons to retrieve the rusted sword of his previous minion,
"I think I like her attitude.  Shall we go, my dear?" he said, making a gesture
for Cera to proceed ahead.
     She paused and cast a measured look at the skeletons.  "Do they have to
come along?" she protested in a petulant voice.  "I really hate Undead...."
     "They are slaves under my command," he said in a reassuring voice.  "They
will take no action unless I direct them to, and rest assured that my minions
will never act against you or any of our other allies.  Of that you have my
solemn oath."
     She looked at the skeletons again and sighed quietly, still unable to
completely throw off the chill inside of her.  "If you say so," she said in a
dubious tone before she set off after Mor'Dal and Taki.  "Let's just hope that
they will be the last Undead we encounter."
     Khyron chuckled quietly to himself, drawing a sharp look from the blonde.
"Unusual as this may sound, being spoken from one such as I, I happen to share
the same sentiments with you.  I suspect, however, that with this recent surge
of evil, our frozen friend was but the first of many.  We should worry about
that later, however, as we still have much to do, and sunset is not too far off
in the future.  Bad enough we should encounter evil in the day, but I shudder
to think of what we will encounter during the cold nights ahead."
     "Thanks," Cera muttered darkly.  "I feel so much better now...."

                *               *               *               *

     "So where are we going again?" Taki inquired as they walked.
     "There is a Rogue encampment ahead," Cera explained.  "The Sisters of the
Sightless Eye, or at least those who managed to escape the monastery alive,"
she added with a sour grimace.  "They are trying to regroup in order to make a
concerted effort at regaining control of the monastery again, and thus reopen
the Rogue's Pass to the east."
     "Wait...." Khyron said, stopping abruptly.  "Something has forced the
Sisters to evacuate the monastery?  When was this?"
     Cera paused and turned around to look at him, not liking the expression on
his face.  "Two weeks ago," she said slowly.  "I thought you were aware of it?"
     "I was only aware of the loss of Tristram and the growing evil in this
region," he replied, his pale countenance losing even more color.  "But if the
way to the east has been blocked, I fear that something even more sinister than
I had initially imagined is afoot."
     "Anything you want to tell us about?" Taki asked in a casual tone.
     Khyron shook his head slowly.  "I know little about the catacombs that lie
beneath the town of Tristram, but I have encountered more than one arcane and
obscure reference to a great evil hidden in the deepest levels.  I would have
paid it no heed had they all not mentioned the Horadrim in the same passage."
     "Oh, those people," Taki sighed as Cera and Mor'Dal exchanged identical
looks of confusion.  "Listen to their babble long enough and you would think
that our world should have ended by now."
     That caused Khyron to raise his eyebrows.  "Judging from your words, I'd
say that you know the Horadrim rather well," he observed.  "I find that to be
rather odd, however, as I have yet to find proof they still exist today...."
     "Hey, I never said I met any of them," Taki countered.  "My order is just
familiar with their teachings, that's all.  You look lost," she added, giving
Cera a measured look.
     "What's the Horadrim?" the amazon asked carefully.
     "An ancient order of scholars," Taki replied, absently scratching an itch
on her calf.  "They guard a lot of secrets, or so they say, and are constantly
warning everyone about conspiracies from Hell.  A lot of them used to be part
of a mage clan, the Vizjeri, I believe, but I could be wrong."
     "A Mage-Slayer, not sure about the mage clans?" Khyron prodded her with a
somewhat intrigued look on his face.  "What has your order come to?"
     She shot him a dark look, the edges of her lips curling down in a frown.
"I usually just work with a name and a description.  I could care less where
he or she comes from, only about dealing with them as per my contract," she
explained in a faintly edged tone.  "And it's not like the mage clans go out of
their way to announce themselves like the Barbarian clans do, so there is very
little heraldry to work with.  I'm not talking bad about your clan, either, so
quit grunting at me like that," she added as she shifted her focus to Mor'Dal.
     "I could care less what you think of my clan," he said gruffly.
     "Okay, so what's the problem?" Taki asked in a guarded tone.  She paused
as Mor'Dal merely pointed, turning to look further up the trail.  "Oh, not this
one again," she sighed.
     "What?" Cera said nervously as she likewise turned to look.  "Oh, shit,"
she moaned.  "More zombies?  I really, really hate the Undead...."
     Khyron shrugged and pulled his wand out of his vest.  "They do take some
getting used to," he offered.
     "Cheer up, there's only three of them this time," Taki replied in a casual
tone as she unhooked the katars from her belt.  "Okay, my tattooed friend, how
do you want to do this?  Perhaps we can both.... what?" she gasped as the trail
ahead of them was suddenly bathed in crimson fire.
     The three zombies, who up to that point had been slowly lumbering ahead,
didn't stand a chance.  Within moments, their rotting flesh was seared off of
their bones by the gout of flame that rushed up to meet them.  A trio of unholy
screams echoed across the landscape for a brief moment before suddenly falling
silent, sending shivers down everyone's spines.  The jet of fire continued to
immolate the charred bones for several seconds before vanishing, the steaming
wisps of smoke rising up from the corpses the only indication that anything had
been there in the first place.
     Khyron was the first to recover from the surprise.  "Well now," he said
quietly.  "I suppose that is one way to dispose of a hostile minion.  A pity I
can't call on such raw elemental power myself."
     "Mages," Taki said quietly in faint disgust.  "Always have to be flashy
when it comes to using their magic.  I bet they can't even take a crap in the
woods without a mystic song and dance routine."
     "What's wrong with sacred rituals?" Mor'Dal demanded with a scowl.
     Taki blinked in surprise and exchanged glances with Cera before shaking
her head.  "Nevermind," she grumbled as she put her katars away.  "Hey, where
are you going?" she demanded as Khyron started to walk forward.
     "I am going to talk with whomever was kind enough to do us a favor," he
said over his shoulder, gesturing at his minions with his wand.  The skeletons
seemed to pause for a moment before scattering in three directions, quickly
disappearing from both the trail and everyone's line of sight.
     Taki just wrinkled her nose in disgust.  "Is he serious?  One wrong move
and we'll be doing the skeleton trick over his charred corpse," she muttered.
She blinked as both Cera and Mor'Dal set off after the necromancer, leaving her
standing alone on the trail.  "I'm not getting paid enough for this," she said
to herself as she hurried after the group, catching up with them just as they
caught up with Khyron.
     "Halt!" a feminine voice called out as they crested a small hill.  In the
distance, they could see a small wooden fort-like construct that seemed to be
a sort of encampment.  A more immediate concern, however, was the young woman
standing in the middle of the trail wearing somewhat revealing green attire.
She held a staff at the ready in both hands, rather strong arcs of lightning
playing along its length.
     "Well met, young Sorceress," Khyron called out to her in an affable tone.


To be continued (maybe....)
Last edit: 21 April 2004