Nagash rested. Nagash healed. And Nagash watched.
Four intruders had managed to defeat his Tomb guardian guards and
make it as far as the inner sanctum, where Nagash ruled his Undead
Kingdom from a throne of bone. Within minutes, the foolish mortals
would be stepping into his throne room. Then, it would be time to
act. To enjoy their lingering death screams echoing throughout the
hollow hallways of his home.
Unknowing that the Supreme Lord of the Undead watched
their every move, the four companions made their may onwards, deeper
into the complex.
At the head of the group, Torrilian, the Elf Ranger
Mage, led the way with his lantern, totally lost, yet unwilling
to admit it. "Just around this next corner, I promise! "
"That is what you have been saying for the last
three hours, Elf fool." The statement brought a cold chill down
upon the group. It always happened when von Graff spoke to the party.
He didn't do it very often, much to the relief of the others. No
one really understood why this cold individual was travelling with
a group of gold fevered adventurers, especially this far into Nagashizzar.
The Undead descended upon them almost instantly,
leaving the surprised band helpless to defend themselves. Three
Carrion swooped, sending the adventures fleeing into the arms of
waiting Ghouls. The Wardancer was the first to go down, his neck
gashed open from a Ghoul's blood thirsty claws. Von Graff, the fastest
of the group, acted. His sword dashed outwards, and he snarled savagely,
taking two of the horrid Undead things down.
Torrilian drew his sword, and slashed wildly, blindly,
into the teeming masses of Ghouls that seemed to be coming from
everywhere. He needed aid soon, or he would fall. His voice a desperate
squeal, he cried out to the armoured Bretonnian Knight Errand for
"On my way!" Being a Knight of the Lady of the
Lake, Nicholas de Piére forced his way forward, placing himself
between the Ghouls and the Elf Ranger, giving the mage time to cast
a much needed protection spell.
Just as all looked hopeless, the unimaginable happened.
Dark magic flared from von Graff's outstretched hands, striking
a group of Ghouls directly. They instantly withered and died. Nicholas
and Torrilian muttered oaths tho their respective gods, wondering
who they had actually chosen as an adventuring companion.
There came a chill moaning from the depths of the
corridor. Dread filled their hearts as three lumbering Mummies shuffled
towards them. But the Mummies walked directly past the Knight and
the Elf, and waded directly into the path of the Ghouls. They began
to attack the Undead vermin, swinging large two handed swords. The
Ghouls dropped like flies, unable to cause enough damage to stop
even one of the lumbering Undead.
Soon, all the Ghouls were lifeless husks on the
ground, and the Mummies ambled off down the corridor in search of
All eyes were upon von Graff as he descended to
wards the ground.
"So, we're travelling with a blasted Vampire, may
the Lady forgive me!" Nicholas spat. "You weren't saving our lives,
you were saving your own."
Von Graff collapsed onto the ground and glared
up at the Knight, a hungry look in his eyes. "You would do well
to avoid me, Nicholas. I am weak now, and need to feed. There is
no need for my meal to include you." He snarled so savagely that
even the stalwart Knight stepped backwards a step.
"I wish nothing to do with you, Undead fiend."
With that, Nicholas marched off down the corridor.
Von Graff almost smiled, Ghoul blood dripping from
his lips. He looked at Torrilian and whispered almost inaudibly,
"Isn't humanity a wonderful thing?" With that, von Graff returned
to his feeding with savage vitality.
Meanwhile, Nagash watched and waited.
story by Michael Brockhouse.