Excerpted from the journal of Etaf Gerin

 

May 26, 1376 (The Year of the Bent Blade)

 

After our encounter with Ra’aze, we returned to Daggerdale to rest and relax. Nearly a week went by, most of which I spent exploring the magical writings in Garsyth’s shop. I did not enquire too closely about the activities of my companions – probably best not to know, especially if it involved Omiata. Everyone survived the week, and before long we were ready to return to Quasqueton Keep.

 

May 27, 1376

 

Up until now, our travels have been a grand adventure. Although the plight of my sister is always a shadow in my mind, and the enemies we faced have been mighty, nevertheless all our encounters have ended with victory. But today, the true danger of our adventuring lifestyle hit home.

 

We had returned to our keep, and continued the exploration of the caverns beneath it. Flush from the victory over the red dragon, we were perhaps less cautious than we might have been. We found and vanquished a few minor monsters and avoided a few simple traps, further building our confidence.

 

Then Omiata slipped silently through a door, then almost immediately turned and fled away from it. We looked on in confusion as the rogue cowered a short way down the passageway. As we approached him, we could see that he was shaking, as with an uncontrollable fear. “Undead” was the only word we could make out between his gasps and moans. The doorway was unnaturally dark – without entering it we could not see what had affected the elf so greatly.

 

“Foul magical terror, this is” said Friar Francis calmly. “Leave him be, it will not last long. Meanwhile, let us destroy this evil with Lathlander’s might.” So saying, he launched into a prayer, sanctifying the ground near the doorway. We moved forward, confident in the protection that had turned the evil of many undead in the past.

 

Helieos and Ahmed headed toward the doorway, nearly reaching it when suddenly an upright corpse stumbled through the doorway. Rotting flesh fell in bits from its arms as the mummy swung clumsily at the ranger. Calmly both the ranger and monk attacked the abomination, wounding it badly and driving it back through the doorway. Both stepped forward, entering the door in pursuit of their quarry.

 

Screams of terror came from beyond the door as our companions disappeared beyond! Badaxe and I glanced at one another, and our steps faltered. What could possibly affect the stalwart monk and doughty ranger? But Francis continued on, moving confidently forward, relying on the power of his god for protection.

 

Shamed by my own hesitation, I followed Francis through the doorway. A horrific scene met my gaze. Ahmed and Helieos were cowering against the corners of a short corridor, while the shambling half-destroyed mummy pulled itself away. Moving slowly toward the helpless monk was a ragged figure, wrapped in strips of stinking, rotted cloth. Fear and despair emanated from it with almost physical force. Even with the protection afforded me by my art, I felt a strong urge to run, to hide – for those without such protection, it would be overwhelming, and I instantly understood why my companions were showing such fear. It was a mummy lord, an undead of great power, and it had just seen Francis.

 

The cleric moved directly in front of the undead creature, standing between it and Helieos. “You will come no further, spawn of hatred!” Power resonated from his voice as he called on the power granted to him by Lathlander against the unnatural evil of the undead. “In the name of Lathlander, begone!”

 

For a moment, no one moved. Badaxe and Omiata (who had recovered enough to follow us) stood just behind me. All three of us tensed, prepared to attack the mummy as soon as it turned to flee from Francis, as we had done many times before to other undead creatures.

 

But it did not turn. The mummy lurched into motion again, moving ahead and placing its filthy hand on Francis’ chest. The cleric brought up his mace, ready to strike, but suddenly the room went dark. The darkness lasted only an instant, but in that instant, life fled from the body of Friar Francis. When the light returned, he was already slumping to the floor. We watched helplessly as he fell, his armor clattering as he sprawled lifelessly on the ground.

 

Shock overcame fear, turning swiftly to rage. Badaxe, Ahmed, and Helieos attacked the mummy, with axe, scimitar, and bare hands. Their fury was mighty, but as blow after blow rained down, the undead creature seemed to barely feel their attacks. My spells had no more effect. With our mightiest fighter against the undead abominations down, and our heaviest blows failing to penetrate, the situation was dark indeed.

 

Then a blaze of light appeared from around a bend in the corridor. Omiata had run ahead, sneaking past the battle as only a rogue can. Further down the hallway he had found many torches, and lit them quickly. Carrying many blazing brands in his arms, he ran to the mummy and threw the fire against the undead’s dirty wrappings.

 

The undead creature roared in pain as the fire caught, setting his wrappings ablaze! The rest of us redoubled our efforts as the fire began to visibly weaken the creature. The mummy turned, catching the elf with a mighty blow that flung him away, but then the fire took its toll. Our blows began to penetrate the abomination’s defenses; scorched undead flesh dropped in chunks as the mummy lord weakened. Finally, Ahmed finished it with his blazing scimitar, and the undead lord lay still.

 

Victory came at a high cost. Francis’ life was gone, his eyes open and unseeing as he lay where he fell. Omiata stood, but stumbled as he tried to move. “I…don’t feel well. I think…” His face, always pale, went completely white, and he sagged, nearly dropping to his knees.

 

“It’s poison, or disease.” Helieos growled in frustration. “My healing skills are limited, and this is well beyond me. Francis could have helped…” Helplessly he looked down toward the corpse of his holy brother.

 

“We’re not finished yet” Ahmed snapped. “Helieos, take Francis. You others, help the elf. Follow me, and quickly.” So saying, he turned and ran off back toward the upper levels of the keep.

 

We did as he said. The next 10 minutes seemed like hours as we raced through the tunnels, stairs, and halls of the keep. Omiata visibly weakened with each passing moment. I feared that he would die in our arms, but somehow he managed to hang on. I began to recognize some of the passages, and then suddenly understood the ranger’s plan.

 

“Ahmed!” I gasped as we ran. “We don’t know where that portal leads!” He was leading us to a portal we had discovered early in our explorations of Quasqueton Keep. With no knowledge of where it might take us, we had left it alone. I had planned to study it later, but time now was short.

 

“You have … a better idea?” the ranger gasped out as he ran. Since I did not, I made no reply. We rounded a corner and the portal was there before us. Without hesitation, Ahmed plunged through, followed quickly by Helieos. Still supporting Omiata, Badaxe and I stumbled forward and through.

 

Instantly we found ourselves in a small, closed room. Ahmed opened the door and rushed out – and was nearly gutted by the axes of a group of dwarves! He leapt backwards, narrowly missing Helieos, and shouted for Badaxe. “Tell them we come in peace! Ask where we can find healing!”

 

Badaxe pushed forward and spoke in the guttural Dwarven tongue. The other dwarves were clearly skeptical, especially when they spotted the elf hanging onto my arm. But they must have provided the information needed, for Badaxe turned and said, “This Waterdeep. Lathlander temple outside, turn left, down the street.” He then turned back to the dwarves, to quiet their concerns about this motley band that had so suddenly appeared in their midst.

 

Ahmed grabbed Omiata’s other arm and we man-handled him out of the dwarven building and into the street. The elf was unconscious now, feet dragging behind us, his breath coming in painful gasps. Helieos followed with Francis’ body. In just a few minutes we reached a temple and rushed inside.

 

No sooner had we entered than a priest rushed to meet us. “I am Felas. Be welcome in the Spires of Morning, a house of Lathlander.“ He took in our situation at a glance, and focused immediately on Omiata. “What ails this one?” he asked, frowning. “I feel an evil presence in him.”

 

Winded from our journey, we gasped out the tale as best we could. “Mummy Lord….struck him….diseased….” Apparently this was enough, for Felas took the elf from us, lay him down before the altar of the temple, and began to chant a prayer. Golden light descended from an opening above to strike the altar, and expanded until the priest and the elf were enveloped in its glow. A feeling of peace spread throughout me as I watched, and time seemed to stand still.

 

Suddenly the light vanished, and the priest staggered a bit as the spell was released. Omiata still lay on the floor, but his skin had regained his normal color and his breath rose and fell in the rhythm of a deep trance. Felas turned to us. “He will require several hours of rest. As an elf, he does not sleep, but this trance will give his body time to recover its strength.”

 

I stepped forward to thank him, but before I could speak Helieos pushed by me. “My brother is fallen!” The words were a wail of grief, and I realized just how difficult it must have been for the monk to wait while Omiata was healed. “Can you restore him, holy one? We, too, serve the Lord of Light! Surely His grace will extend to His fallen child!”

 

The priest motioned for Helieos to lay the body down, onto the altar itself. The monk did so, then stepped back, unshed tears glistening in his eyes behind the mask he wore. Felas removed much of Francis’ armor and examined him closely. Then he turned to us, and the regret on his face told us the verdict even before he spoke. “I cannot restore this one with only the gifts that Lathlander has granted me, for he has passed from this mortal realm.”

 

Helieos fell to his knees, shaking. But Felas took hold of his shoulders and forced him to look up. “Do not despair! I cannot restore him alone. But if you can find me a scroll of resurrection, then with Lathlander’s grace your friend will yet live. Lay aside your grief, and do not fail in this task.”

 

The monk, leapt to his feet, running to where Francis lay. Frantically he searched through the belongings of the cleric, scattering various items across the floor. After a few moments he triumphantly held up a scroll. “Francis told me he had found this! He meant it to aid others, but now it will bring him back to us!”

 

Felas took the scroll and opened it. After a moment he looked up, nodding. “This will suffice. Step away from the altar, and I shall call upon Lathlander to heal His child. Do not look directly at the scroll – the light of Lathlander is mighty, and can blind the unwary.”

 

For nearly ten minutes, nothing appeared to happen as Felas read from the scroll and beseeched the heavens in a loud voice. But then a light began to shine from the scroll. It steadily grew as Felas continued his ritual. Then the priest dropped the scroll onto the chest of the fallen Francis, and leapt back. Bright light flashed from the entire altar, brighter than the noonday sun, illuminating the whole temple.

 

Even with my eyes shielded, I was momentarily blinded. I blinked furiously to clear my vision. Slowly my sight returned – and there before us stood Francis, healthy and full of life! Helieos rand forward and picked up the cleric in a huge bear hug, while Ahmed and I thanked Felas profusely. Our party was complete again.

 

May 30, 1376

 

Francis and Omiata recovered their full strength quickly. We stayed with the dwarves, who took Badaxe in as a brother and tolerated the rest of us in their guild hall. They even gave him a gift – Boots of Teleportation, very useful for a short-legged dwarf that needs to get in front of the enemy quickly. We learned that the portal worked both ways, giving us easy access to travel back and forth. Moreover, the dwarves were skilled craftsmen and would be willing to help us refurbish our keep – and even give us a discount for Badaxe’s sake.

 

We discussed our options, and it was decided to first fortify our keep and find trustworthy servants to defend it. Though this would take several weeks, time I was loath to lose before confronting Oahbe, it was necessary if we were to fulfill our promise to Randal Morn to make the keep a defensive bastion. And it would give us time to hone our skills and prepare for the difficult tasks ahead.

 

Construction will begin as soon as materials can be procured. When the days begin to grow shorter once again, our keep will be finished, and I will continue my quest to rescue my sister Dreiw and take revenge on her captor.

 

Last updated 09-01-2005 by Skip Franklin