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Fantasy Dominions: The Middle Ages

"And have you any news of Sandalphon? All I know of him is that his title befit him well, for he looked to wax and wane out of existence every few moments. Could that be some sort of fell magic?" Graeme would ask the mage.

"Even if you know not of Sandalphon, your help has been immense already with your knowledge. I thank you very much," He would say, bowing slightly to the man.
"Hmm... I don't believe I'm familiar with that name, perhaps for the reason you've just mentioned. If he has any relation to an actual shade, that might be why. Shade's are indistinguishable beings, impossible to tell from one another. There's a certainly a possibility that, with all the talented mage's among their order, he was simply a shade summoned to assist them. Either way, I'm certainly glad to have been of assistance."
 
The skeleton is reminded of his mother throwing her arm at him and telling him to piss off out of the family crypt.

"Yes, yes, a dream. It felt like a message from the gods themselves! I was standing in a grand temple with all the gods looking down at me, and it seemed like they blessed me..." Xochitl was fantastic at making things up.
"A tall tail if I've ever heard one!" Exclaims Clyde
"Yeah, quite the tall tail."
"But if it is true, which gods you think sent you such a dream? Most of them hate each other, so I imagine it couldn't have been all of them at once."
"Yeah, not all at once, no way."
 
"Hmm... I don't believe I'm familiar with that name, perhaps for the reason you've just mentioned. If he has any relation to an actual shade, that might be why. Shade's are indistinguishable beings, impossible to tell from one another. There's a certainly a possibility that, with all the talented mage's among their order, he was simply a shade summoned to assist them. Either way, I'm certainly glad to have been of assistance."
"Hm, perhaps. Though he did move with his own agency. Ah well, it is but a trifling detail. All I can say is thank you for all the advice you have given me so far good sir." Graeme would reply.

"Actually, I don't believe I ever caught your name, kindly mage. My own is Graeme, though doubtless you remember my having told your company,"
 
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"Hm, perhaps. Though he did move with his own agency. Ah well, it is but a trifling detail. All I can say is thank you for all the advice you have given me so far good sir." Graeme would reply.

"Actually, I don't believe I ever caught your name, kindly mage. My own is Graeme, though doubtless you remember my having told your company,"
"Ah, well, my actual name is quite unintelligible for outsiders, so I've taken to calling myself Cedric. You may do that same, friend."
 
"A tall tail if I've ever heard one!" Exclaims Clyde
"Yeah, quite the tall tail."
"But if it is true, which gods you think sent you such a dream? Most of them hate each other, so I imagine it couldn't have been all of them at once."
"Yeah, not all at once, no way."

"Oh! Well, I have many theories. What are your opinions? What gods do you think contacted me in such a way?"
 
"The pleasure's all mine, just make sure you watch yourself. Don't want to your death on my conscious." The mage chuckles
"Dying isn't part of my plan. At least, not until I've repayed all twelve of them,"
 
"Oh! Well, I have many theories. What are your opinions? What gods do you think contacted me in such a way?"
"I bet it was Gabriel. Bastard's always appearing to people in dreams an whatnot. Pretty creepy, if you ask me." Replies Clyde
"Naw, naw, he's from Mictlan, ain't he? Bet it was their creepy snake god or something." Counters Karl, coming in with perhaps the first independent thought of his whole god damn life.
"No way! They kicked him out, didn't they? Why would their god want him back?"
"Maybe he was falsely accused."
"A friendly guy like him? Not a chance!"

The pair seem ready to launch right into a debate on this subject.
 
Xochitl stands up. "Gentlemen, gentlemen... Good night," he says quietly before getting the fuck out of there as soon as possible and heading to his room for some beauty sleep. He had had enough of their silly talk. At this point, he just wanted to make it to R'lyeh and smash some heads together.
 
"Dying isn't part of my plan. At least, not until I've repayed all twelve of them,"
"I doubt its part of anyone's plan." Cedric jests "But yes, I imagine you'll be fine. Just be on your guard, and don't go swinging into any battles you can't win."

The mage pauses for a moment, as if he's had a sudden realization.

"Oh! My, I had almost forgotten to prepare the trinket. I'll try to catch up with you once we've made it safely within, but for now I have that to attend to."
 
With the brute's axe embeded in the ground, Jemmeh rears back and swings for the brute's arms, aiming to disarm him in a swift blow.
 
"I doubt its part of anyone's plan." Cedric jests "But yes, I imagine you'll be fine. Just be on your guard, and don't go swinging into any battles you can't win."

The mage pauses for a moment, as if he's had a sudden realization.

"Oh! My, I had almost forgotten to prepare the trinket. I'll try to catch up with you once we've made it safely within, but for now I have that to attend to."
"That I will. I shall see you again soon," Graeme responded.
 
Xochitl stands up. "Gentlemen, gentlemen... Good night," he says quietly before getting the fuck out of there as soon as possible and heading to his room for some beauty sleep. He had had enough of their silly talk. At this point, he just wanted to make it to R'lyeh and smash some heads together.
You spend the night staring up at the ceiling, feeling the boat rock beneath you, and listening to the mercenaries as they make merry until they all finally head off to sleep. Afterwards, the only sounds are that of the waves. The inability to sleep is perhaps one of the less enjoyable aspects of undeath, but you make it through regardless. Late into the next day, someone knocks on your door, and you hear the familiar voice of the ship's captain telling you that the island is in sight.
 
"That I will. I shall see you again soon," Graeme responded.
The mage nods his head, gives you a quick smile, and then leaves to attend to the preparation of the trinket. Your time may now be spend in thought and observation, as you come ever closer to the damned city. It truly is a wonder that such an event could have happened, that a people on top of the world could have practiced such heinous rituals that the gods themselves stepped in to topple them over. Or, perhaps it was because they were on top of the world that such rituals brought on the wrath of the gods. But eh, who am I, a disembodied voice, to sit and try to explain the thought process of gods.

The walk takes about an hour, during which talk is rare, and the most common sound is the stomping of boots and the clanking of weapons and armor, but finally you arrive. Standing before you the western gate of Nihil, which was called Ermor's gateway to the world. It sits in an completely broken state, barely guarding anything, and doing little more aside from keeping the crumbling gatehouse from collapsing completely. The outer walls are in no better of a shape either, and even of the gate was still intact, there were enough holes in the wall that you could fit an army through.
 
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The mage nods his head, gives you a quick smile, and then leaves to attend to the preparation of the trinket. Your time may now be spend in thought and observation, as you come ever closer to the damned city. It truly is a wonder that such an event could have happened, that a people on top of the world could have practiced such heinous rituals that the gods themselves stepped in to topple them over. Or, perhaps it was because they were on top of the world that such rituals brought on the wrath of the gods. But eh, who am I, a disembodied voice, to sit and try to explain the thought process of gods.

The walk takes about an hour, during which talk is rare, and the most common sound is the stomping of boots and the clanking of weapons and armor, but finally you arrive. Standing before you the western gate of Nihil, which was called Ermor's gateway to the world. It sits in an completely broken state, barely guarding anything, and doing little more aside from keeping the crumbling gatehouse from collapsing completely. The outer walls are in no better of a shape either, and even of the gate was still intact, there were enough holes in the wall that you could fit an army through.
"By the gods..." Graeme muttered to himself at the siight of the destroyed walls. To him, it looked less like the gods had punished these people, and more like an army had attacked. From where he stood, the walls seemed remarkably well made, offering up no natural reason for the damage to his wandering eye.

Was this truly where Bariah had hidden away from the world for all these years? It felt like both mere days and an eternity had passed since Graeme had last seen that terrible man. In many regards, Bariah was much like him, especially when compared to the others. While enormous of body and strong of mind, Bariah was still only human. At least, Graeme hoped so.

His grip tightened on the hilt of his sheathed gladius as Graeme would lower his gaze from the walls to road ahead, and the area around them. Suddenly, a thought came to him. Why had they seen nothing in the way of undead during their journey? Surely at least a few undead would have found themselves outside the cities walls, considering the extreme disrepair the city found itself in.

And yet so far, they had nothing, not even directly outside the city's main gates.

All of this combined put the graying man on edge, jumpy and ready to fight at a moments notice.
 
Xochitl opened the door and patted the Captain, nodding in gratitude. "Thank you, Captain Yervitch!" He walks up to the deck to get a view of the island and waters.
 
"By the gods..." Graeme muttered to himself at the siight of the destroyed walls. To him, it looked less like the gods had punished these people, and more like an army had attacked. From where he stood, the walls seemed remarkably well made, offering up no natural reason for the damage to his wandering eye.

Was this truly where Bariah had hidden away from the world for all these years? It felt like both mere days and an eternity had passed since Graeme had last seen that terrible man. In many regards, Bariah was much like him, especially when compared to the others. While enormous of body and strong of mind, Bariah was still only human. At least, Graeme hoped so.

His grip tightened on the hilt of his sheathed gladius as Graeme would lower his gaze from the walls to road ahead, and the area around them. Suddenly, a thought came to him. Why had they seen nothing in the way of undead during their journey? Surely at least a few undead would have found themselves outside the cities walls, considering the extreme disrepair the city found itself in.

And yet so far, they had nothing, not even directly outside the city's main gates.

All of this combined put the graying man on edge, jumpy and ready to fight at a moments notice.
As you observe and ponder, you can hear Cedric call everyone together so that he may use the trinket.
 
With the brute's axe embeded in the ground, Jemmeh rears back and swings for the brute's arms, aiming to disarm him in a swift blow.
Your strike connects, and damn near sends the creatures arm flying from its socket. The shambling mess of flesh and decay now sits defenseless before you.
 
Xochitl opened the door and patted the Captain, nodding in gratitude. "Thank you, Captain Yervitch!" He walks up to the deck to get a view of the island and waters.
Heading above deck, you can see the rest of the mercenaries gathering at the edge of the bow to look. You join them to look out over the dark, murky waters and view the island for yourself. Doing so proves difficult, however, as the skies are unnaturally dark. Even for the dull light of morning this would be odd, and it's nearly afternoon.
 
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Graeme moved over to the mage, hand still gripped tightly on the gladius.
Counting every head to make sure all are present and accounted for, Cedric holds up the trinket, a scepter, and begins to explain how everything will work.

"This, my friends and colleagues, is the Scepter of Cassius the Righteous. It is an artifact capable of countering the curse of undeath, one of only a few in the world. It projects a field of, well, 'anti-necromancy' we'll call it, that will counteract the curse of Ermor. The field will protect you completely so long you stay within it, and before any of you ask, the field is visible. So long as you don't step out from the field, all of you will be completely fine. I should also say ahead of time that some of you may see things; memories of a time forgotten, or a view of what it was like before the curse. It is a side effect of this kind of magic. It is not real, so do not be fooled. Now, is there anything else that you lot would like to know beforehand?"
 
Without any kind of hesitation or sympathy toward the even-uglier creature's pitiful state after his blow, Jemmeh reels backs again and swings his cudgel with great force at the creature's head, his horizontal swing mimicking that of a woodcutter chopping into a large oak tree.
 
Counting every head to make sure all are present and accounted for, Cedric holds up the trinket, a scepter, and begins to explain how everything will work.

"This, my friends and colleagues, is the Scepter of Cassius the Righteous. It is an artifact capable of countering the curse of undeath, one of only a few in the world. It projects a field of, well, 'anti-necromancy' we'll call it, that will counteract the curse of Ermor. The field will protect you completely so long you stay within it, and before any of you ask, the field is visible. So long as you don't step out from the field, all of you will be completely fine. I should also say ahead of time that some of you may see things; memories of a time forgotten, or a view of what it was like before the curse. It is a side effect of this kind of magic. It is not real, so do not be fooled. Now, is there anything else that you lot would like to know beforehand?"
Graeme stayed silent, for while he had questions, they were not important when considering the coming task.
 
Without any kind of hesitation or sympathy toward the even-uglier creature's pitiful state after his blow, Jemmeh reels backs again and swings his cudgel with great force at the creature's head, his horizontal swing mimicking that of a woodcutter chopping into a large oak tree.
You bring you club down over the creatures head with tremendous force, squishing it like a grape. It collapses to the ground, a dead husk now that you've clobbered the magic from the beasts body.
 

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