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Unearthed



AuthorUnearthed
Bilir was shifting his feet impatiently near the entrance to the Crypt, waiting for a clearance signal to be given when the last remains of the venomancers would be dealt with. He stood shuffling and rubbing his sides with his hands, trying to banish the autumn cold encircling him and multiplying his feeling of helplessness.

There were nearly a hundred ingredients of every sort and kind discovered during this campaign. Most of them were identified soon after the discovery, some were still being experimented on, others - leaving the Wizard councilor completely clueless. A stone made of clots of toughened hair; little tiles of wood cut thin as scrolls covered in strange dye; strange jelly-like substance contained in what seemed to be animal membrane - impossible to even describe, let alone classify and understand. As his main assistant Albrecht had stated several days ago, it would take exactly an infinity and one more day to form the right combination out of the whole set that would have the desired effect to purge Her Majesty's malady, if they were to combine them randomly.

There had to be something in that crypt that would hint on creation process of the powerful venom curse. The Venomancers were undying by natural reasons, but even taking that to consideration, there had to be a way for them to pass this knowledge to others, and Bilir was convinced that at least some kind of document or sign was to be found.
The Unholy ones guarding keys to the last enclosure finally fell and Bilir, after receiving the sign, rushed down and inside even more eagerly than the lords. As all others, this one was full of stands with ancient artifacts and uncanny reagents, among other seemignly useless things. Yet, there was something in the middle of the enclosure that was different: A large closed chest was set on a small stone elevation, gloomy dark green and black twinkling could be seen around it.

"That is it! At last", Bilir shone with happiness, signing the lords to stand back. Was the remedy there, inside the chest in the last enclosure, waiting so long and costing so much effort to finally reveal itself to the persistent wizard?
He commanded his academic disciples to try out the chest. They made a few steps towards it and began to shiver, their faces assumed expressions of horror and fear. All of them fled back after making a few more steps towards the center of the enclosure.

The wizard concentrated and attempted to disperse the aura of terror around the chest, failing at first but succeeding at the second time. He then moved forward personally, and slowly bent over the chest, reaching it with his hand. It wasn't locked.
What he found inside plunged him into despair. Several dozens of armor and weapon samples of poorest quality was all there was inside. Agonized and oblivious of everything around him, Bilir slowly sat right on the ground and fell into prostration.

A loud shriek returned him to his senses. One of the lords had already made his way towards the chest and tried one of the items on - a blue hood. The headpiece looked ancient and absolutely useless, its appearance could never hint on what would happen next. The lord fell on the ground, convulsed and let out those loud shrieks. Not even a minute passed till he was dead. Any attempts to return him back to life failed.

"May I take care of this?" a young necromancer asked with enthusiasm, already counting his skeletons in his mind, picturing a replacement. Bilir couldn't hold a short giggle before sending him away crossly. He started inspecting the items carefully letting the lords admire all the other ancient items of more impressive looks.

All those artifacts found so far were probably war trophies of the venomancers, while items within the chest belonged to them all along, storing their power concentrated within. Could that be a lead? Bilir carefully gathered the mysterious artifacts, packed them and ordered to deliver them to the Academy. Before he could get any answers, the artifacts were to be cleansed of the Unholy properties accumulated in centuries.
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