Ouze Stinkeefeets
Troublesome Troll
Posts: 2141
(9/10/02 6:21 pm)
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The hall where I died
The halls of the Temple of Veeshan were silent, save the sound of claws clicking on marble. The many racnars, wurms, and dragonkin patrolled this most sacred place with a zealotry akin to no other. The dragons had decided, in their war against the giants, they were too well balanced. The dragons had many magics at their disposal, but the Kromrif had worn them down over the years with their sheer brute force and numbers. Thus, Sontalak of the First Brood decided it was time to enlist... outside help. The lesser beings would assist them in their war, for mere trinkets! So the temple was built. Outwardly, it was a mere beacon of Veeshans glory, such as the Skyshrine, but unknown to the legions of the Kromrif... it was a training ground. The minions of the Claws would come to them, after proving themselves worthy, for advanced training in war. The Halls were special... the magics inside would reanimate the patrollers within after a time. There was no higher honor for the Claws then to sacrifice themselves against the Kromrif, and so many a volunteer lined up for a temporary death in the halls, to train these lesser beings. This was such a day, thought Arreken Skyward. He gazed silently at the welcome atrium, at the shimmering forms appearing within. They were seasoned, but not yet ready. Today he would test them severely. They would rise amongst it, triumphant, or die trying. Either way served Veeshan's plan.
Grunthos led them amongst the halls. They moved silently, no rattling from weapons or early casting. Gaereth signalled that prey was close, and Grunthos signalled for them to stop. The wise elders, Juror and Cikki, began casting protective magics on the assault force, 35 strong. Lisse glimpsed to the sky, chanted a few words to Tunare and the party was surrounded by shimmering runes, which burned brightly, and then faded away. They were ready. Dekerr the rogue pulled his blades, slick with poison, from the scabbards and ducked into the shadows, as Kenderlin nodded and did the same. Gaereth pulled a shuriken from his pouch, and leapt towards an approaching Racnar, throwing it squarely into it's chest. The racnar howled in pain, and let force a bloodcurdling screech, following Gaereth...
Ouze readied his blade. It had taken a long time, and much sweat, and blood, but he had finally won the respect of the Shadowknights of Cabilis. He held in his hands a blade that was blessed by Thule himself.. one forged in the image of Rile's unholy Khukri. Jantiz looked on approvingly, his blade a match. Small drifts of green mist floated of the blades in anticipation of the blooddrinking to come. The racnar entered the camp, and howled in anger and rage, as Grunthos leapt into battle. His icy axe swinging, he taunted the racnar into single battle! Gaereth fell to the floor and died, or so it seemed, as he had utter control of his body. Meanwhile, the racnar and Grunthos circled each other, as Grunthos fed it's rage and anger until there was only Grunthos. After a moment, the rest of the war party joined the battle, Kenderlin and Dekerr appearing suddedly, poisoned blades plunging deep into the racnars spine. Ouze joined the battle, the Greenmist chopping deeper, releasing the noxious clouds amidst the gore. The warrior Cibulan's blades glitters as he performed an elegant dance of death with the racnar, slicing and piercing. The racnar fell, dead, under the weight of the combined fury of the raiding party. As it fell, a pair of unardorned greaves, spattered with blood, clattered to the floor. A cheer went up at the victory.
Hours passed in which the scene was repeated over and over, the skills of the raiders winning out over the sheer savagery of the Dragonkin. However, Gaereth was unnerved as he patrolled the halls for one more pull. A Lava Defender stood before him unaware of his presence. It was alone, and in the open. Gaereth felt a chill, as if... he was being watched. He saw nothing, however. He slipped forward, and pulled the Defender to the group, the wurm charging angrily. They started the attack routine... and a great swooping was heard. Lepidara joined the battle! The great drake spread her wings, blasting them all with poison and acid. The raiders regrouped immediately, but it was clear they were no match for Lepidara and the defender at the same time. Over the din of the battle, Grunthos howled one word, over and over again: EVAC!
The druids immediately started casting evacuation spells, as the wizards did the same. One by one, they disappeared from the field of battle with 5 others in tow, until all were gone, much to the dismay of drake and defender. All... save one. Ouze's bloodlust had one more gotten the better of him, and he had not disengaged. His khukri glittered maliciously thought he air, green mist mising with the blood filling the air. All of a sudden, he heard the thundering booms of the evacuation... Ouze spun around, but it was too late. He was out of range, and he was left behind. He looked towards Lepidara, his eyes gleaming with hate. An unholy aura enveloped him, and his hand began to glow. He leapt into battle once more.
After the wounded were tended to, and Ouze's death was dicovered, Da Hui knew what they had to do.. but there was no one to bring his corpse for ressurrection. The necromancers they had were all on a vogaye into the depths of Kunark, searching for magics in the remains of the ruined cities. After much deliberation, it was decided to hire a Necromancer to perform the summoning. A call went out through the lands, and a frail human came forth to the keep, esconced in black robes. He told them Bertoxxulous would grant him this power, but there would be a cost, he said. A high cost, indeed. Ezmrella nodded her assent, and the treasury was opened, with the foul necromancer being paid his price. He cackled once, and told them no problem. The parrot sitting on his shoulder cawed loudly, echoing his words. "No problem... " as it whistled.
Parrotman prepared the coffin. This was a prime chance to eliminate a hated foe! He summoned the bloated corpse, as a collective moan went through the assembled group. "Death be not pretty, hahahaha!" he cackled towards the friends of the fallen Knight, his mangled carcass oozing blood still. He leaned over to adjust the body... unseen to them, he places his medallion under the breastplate of Ouze. He cackled once more, and shimmering bubbles circled his form as he disappeared into thin air.
Ezmrella sighed deeply. She sat in her shrine, alone with Ouze's body, and thought on the circumstances that brought him back to them. Parrotman disturbed her profoundly. She would never understand such a being, who practiced the black arts. Ezmrella was also entwined with death, but she devoted her life to the saving and protectiving of it, unlike the foul lich, who dedicated himself to destroying and perverting it. The dwarven cleric was disturbed, but at the same time, reassured that she could never be anything like him. She leaned over Ouze's corpse, and like many times before, but Brell willing, never again, she cast the resurrection spell. Ouze's body began to twitch and shudder, his wounds mending, his flesh regrowing. Suddenly, everything went horribly wrong, as the symbol glew black. Ouze screamed, a loud, unearthly sound, and the flesh melted from his bones. An unholy skeleton rose from viscera, brandishing Ouze's blade. He leapt to attack them, snarling with fury. Ezmrella stood her ground, casting a spell to root him in place. It stood there, swiping it's blade at her. A moment later, it collapsed to the floor. Ezmrella stood over it in wonder. Did it die? What exactly did I reanimate? Muscles reformed, veins, blood pulsed, and green skin reappeared. Ouze was once more whole, shaking his head. "What happened???" he asked Ezmrella. She could only shake her head unknowingly.
Deep in the sewers of Qeynos, Parrotman swore and tossed the scrying mirror against the floor, rats scurrying about. His plan to enslave Ouze as an undead servant had failed... the strange magics that emanated from greenmist partially cancelled his spell. He thought more, and was pleased. While he couldn't claim Ouze as his slave directly, in times of great stress Ouze would now revert to a mindless, bloodthirsthy lich which Parrotman could control. As he thought more on it, he began to cackle in glee over the havoc he would soon cause. The echoing soon filled the sewers.
Revenant of Innoruuk - Proud Officer of
Da Hui - Quellious
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Great story Ouze.
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