The StormWatch Chronicles
As seen through the eyes of Drano Battlehammer
Part 8
Update: 21/04/1998 to drano
October 5th, 596
Well, friends - It has taken this long for me to recover from my many wounds.
Our latest campaign was
beyond difficult and, regrettably, a failure. It served as a reminder, these
past few days, that we are indeed
mortal. The actions we take, however small, have serious repercussions in ways
we may at first
misinterpret or fail to understand. The tale I am about to tell you is the latest
adventure of my companions,
StormWatch, and select members of the barony of Eastwyck.
I awoke to a gentle shaking; little Chastity's furry fingers were gently (or
was that roughly?) shaking this
poor, old dwarf awake. The sun was shining through the windows of our cabin
in the town of Ravenholt.
Birds were twittering in the trees. Other members of StormWatch were busy bustling
about, and the cloying
smell of late summer flowers in bloom came wafting to my nostrils. All in all,
the worst possible
combination of things for this dwarf to wake to. I think someone on the team
urged Chastity to wake me,
because it is so very hard to be upset at that innocent smiling face, even first
thing in the morning. After a
few soft words and gentle proddings, the passive Sarr-woman finally spewed forth
in a commanding tone,
"Drano! Get your fat, lazy Dwarven butt outta bed! We've got things to
do!" A knowing smirk from Gabriel
told me he was amused. . . .
We prepared our things, knowing we would be on a weeklong trek. Members of
the court of Eastwyck
arrived in ones and twos. Among them were Sir Victdar, Baroness Ganthe, Squire
Bailiwick, Kano,
Mastorium, Malace, and Tatiana. Baroness Ganthe and Squire Bailiwick sat down
and began to brief us.
They are a powerful healer and mage, respectively, as well as fine leaders,
and we gave them our full
attention. The Baroness explained that we were after a magical cup -- some sort
of long, lost artifact -- that
would help us defeat the Death Knight, Nikijo. I'm not sure how a little drinking
vessel can stop one of the
world's most powerful death knights, but then, I've seen stranger things in
my day.
Chastity gave Gabriel a quick kiss goodbye, saying she would wait for him.
We finished packing the mules
with provisions and set off. Sir Victdar led the way, telling us that the place
we were going was a small
cemetery in the hills of Volta. Apparently, there was some sort of gateway to
Nikijo's realm in the
cemetery. The weather, as I said, was beautiful, and it held up for the entire
trip. We spent our days chatting
about this and that, and our evenings telling fireside tales and drinking fine
ale. It was during one of these
tales that we heard a little more of Nikijo. A Death Knight is too small a name
for him. He can also hurl
magics and use poisons. A truly scary individual, he has become the incarnation
of nightmares.
After many days traveling in the delightful company of Eastwyck, we arrived
at the cemetery. A small one,
it was, with a little wrought- iron gate that opened on rusty hinges. It creaked
loudly as we opened it,
showing us a dusty path leading through moss-covered stones and tall, ugly,
brown weeds. We headed up
the path to a decrepit-looking crypt. The door was sealed, but a couple of our
strongest warriors managed
the feat of opening it. We peered into the small chamber, then followed Gabriel
in as he led the way with
his sword.
The sun was just setting as the rest of us went into the crypt. The sky turned
purple and, when the last of us
was about to enter, I noticed the raven. Perched atop an old, crumbling headstone,
it regarded me with
intelligent eyes, warning me to turn back. As is the way with most of my race,
however, I thought only that
the fine bird could be prepared for a meal, and moved on with dreams of roast
crow dancing through my
head.
Inside the tomb, all was quiet. The twenty of us searched thoroughly, but found
nothing except for
cobwebs, dust, and a single, large coffin. The old coffin was made of stone
and carved with strange runes.
It radiated power, though, so with consent of the Baroness, Sir Victdar and
Tatiana bent to the task of
removing the lid. We stood by anxiously, as the muscles in their backs rippled
and pulsed. Veins stood out
on their necks and foreheads and beads of sweat dripped upon the cold, stone
floor. The only sounds were
the labored breathing and grunts of exertion coming from the struggling duo.
Finally, like a newborn lizard egg cracking open, the coffin gave up its secrets
to us. With a sonorous
boom, the slate lid hit the granite floor. In the deafening silence that followed,
one could almost hear the
expressions on our faces tell the tale of what we saw as we peered into the
coffin, and into another world.
Inside the coffin was a mist, not unlike the thick one that rolls across a lake
in early morning. Just barely
visible was a stairway leading down.
One by one, we steeled ourselves to pass beyond. Down the stairs we went. The
mist was apparently the
portal, which we were to take, to get us to Nikijo's realm. Passing through
it jumbled our senses so that we
ended up going down the stairs into the coffin, but emerged from the other side
going up. We took a
moment to adjust our eyes to the new light, and get our bearings. The sight
we saw then, was indeed the
thing of nightmares.
The land was bleak. It was as if the earth had suffered from a year of drought.
Only brown grass and weeds
remained. Thorn bushes and briars crawled their way along the terrain, and the
sky was a midnight black.
Uninterrupted by starlight, the black curtain of sky was shattered only by the
pale rays of a full, orange
moon. This cast an eerie light on the barren landscape that was marred only
by the gravestones. Literally
millions of them, there were! The headstones lay side-by-side in every direction
and stretched as far as the
eye could see. Ancestors of ancestors. People so long ago forgotten, that only
an elves' great grandfather
may have known who they were. We were in the middle of a graveyard the size
of Volta!
Peering quickly around, I watched in astonishment as the portal proceeded to
close behind us! Our presence
had been discovered! Just then, a scream shattered the silence like a hundred
glasses breaking all at once.
Squire Bailiwick's warning was echoed by other members of the group that were
able to find their voices to
scream. All around us, from every grave, rose a body. Undead, in numbers we
could barely fathom, were
clawing their way out of the ground and turning to stare at us with empty eye-sockets
and maggots
dropping from their half-rotten flesh. A low hum started from nowhere, so low
we felt it rumbling in our
bellies, more than heard it, and the legions of Nikijo's undead army began shambling
toward us.
I've seen more dead and undead in my day than most people's entire generations
will see in their lifetimes.
With this knowledge and experience, I knew that this could very well be my last
endeavor. With that, I
dropped the Hammer of Thunderbolts from my shoulder to the ready position, and
prepared to do battle as
the dwarves of clan Battlehammer are known for.
Gabriel and Daereth simultaneously drew their blades. Perhaps it was the reassuring
ring of steel, or the
action of drawing a weapon that snapped something in all of us, but whatever
it was, it worked. Cynesra
was the first to recover her composure, and with a cool, almost serene voice,
said, "StormWatch!
Eastwyck! Let's do it."
The Baroness recovered and quickly rallied her court to her. Daereth and Sir
Victdar, flanked by Gabriel,
Tatiana, Delahr and Cynesra formed our wall to the front. Backing them were
the long polearms of Kano
and Borax. Walls of Force were quickly erected behind us, forming a large box
from which there could be
no attack on our rear. Squire Bailiwick, Mastorium, and Malace would provide
spell power to our front
line, while The Baroness and I would play very supportive roles, firing spells
and providing healing when
needed, and standing in with our weapons when one of our fighters needed a rest.
This would not be a fight
from which we could run or retreat. It would be the combined forces of StormWatch
and Eastwyck's finest
hour.
The hordes of undead came at us then. In waves, they threw themselves upon
the points of our wall of
blades. Malace was the foremost authority on undead destruction, and with him,
the firepower of Delahr's
and Squire Bailiwick's celestial magics burned holes through the oncoming masses
of skeletal beings.
Gabriel's and Daereth's blades went into a dance of whirling destruction, and
I now know what is meant
when they are called "Whirlwinds of Destruction." Sir Victdar's feet
never moved from where they were
firmly planted, and the line never wavered.
The undead fell in droves, like wheat to the scythe. But the numbers were simply
too much. The pile of
destroyed undead rose higher and higher, until we were literally fighting an
uphill battle. But still, they
came on. Clawing their way over their fallen brethren, the abominations continued
to pick at us.
Finally, after hours of struggle that seemed like days, the first of us fell.
I'm not sure exactly how it got
through. Perhaps it climbed over its dead allies to scamper over the wall behind
us. By the time we noticed
it was too late. The Baroness' sharp shriek of pain startled me. I turned and
saw the glowing eyes. The red-
and-black-faced death knight was grinning evilly as her blood dripped from its
blade. A bellow of rage
escaped me as I unloaded everything I had into it. I tried destroying it and
harming it with earth spells. I
tried all of the precious healing I had left. I even used the thunderbolts from
the Hammer to bring it down.
All to no avail. It phased through and resisted most of the spells. Then it
was upon me, and it was all I
could do to keep it's blows from touching me. I blocked with a desperate speed
that I've never thought I
had, but a strong blow landed, nonetheless. Then another, and another, and another.
At last I lay on my back. My strength spent, one of my arms gone, and my life
ebbing slowly back into the
earth from whence I came, I stared almost gratefully up into the black sky,
knowing it was my time. The
sounds of battle and cries of pain slowly receded from my ears until they sounded
very far away. I turned
my head and saw the pale face of the Baroness, once proud, staring lifelessly
into nothing. I thought, "She
didn't even know my name". Then I realized, through the fog, that we now
shared something that would
create a bond of sorts in whatever life came after this one. We all would have
that same bond; the bond of
warriors dying bravely in battle together for a just cause.
And then, like the sounds, my view of her face began to swim. A darkness began
closing in around my
vision, shutting out the last view of my life. My head lolled back to stare
up at the sky. But all I saw was
two glowing eyes. . . .