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Reforged pt 8

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The journey into what little remained of Traiven Keep sent shivers up Arthur's mind. The massive structure which had once stood proudly among the gently rolling countryside was gone and had left only a jagged indent on the earth interrupted intermittently by a root cellar entrance, a shattered staircase to the basement, and a servant's entrance to the storage amidst the broken remnants of what had once been a wagon shed storage structure.

The unease the blacksmith felt, he realized, was likely a pale shadow in comparison to what Orvig experienced and yet the Orc maintained a stoic expression of neutral indifference; Arthur admired his will. Without a word shared among the group, the young, green-skinned knight led them straight to the collapsed staircase, saying "This is one of several ways down beneath the foundation of the keep."

Glancing down into the earth, Arthur saw that the staircase had been stone and, while much of it had crumbled, they would be able to make it down single file without much of a risk for a structural collapse. Then again, he reasoned, he wasn't much of an engineer. "You have faith in the construction, Orvig?"

The knight nodded, heading down first. "I do. Besides, we will need to get what supplies we can... whatever may be most useful for the journeys and battles ahead."

Peter followed after. "Do we have a plan for what comes next? Are we to seek out Sir Wasker to get aid from Draven? Regroup in another town and find more support? Track down the wizard who took Traven Keep?"

Lucas, who remained near Arthur, called down to the Minotaur. "His name is Maeryk, and we're not ready to face him."

Harold, who was on Arthur's other side finished tying off a fresh bandage around the spotted fur of his bicep before stating "Demon things and shambling corpses... not sure I'll EVER be ready to face that again."

The Blacksmith reached out to touch the shoulder of both before descending the stairs after his eldest son. "We will figure out what comes next after we find out what we can salvage from the keep's catacombs. For now, focus on that."

Just beneath the surface the damage to the stairs came to an end. From there, a set of wide steps led the group to a long hallway beneath the earth. According to Orvig, the passage would lead to the basement shelter where civilians would have gone any time the keep was attacked. Passages from there led to storage, the cellar, a back up armory, and the crypt. Each location would have opportunities and possible risks.

Lucas, who remained toward the back of the party, called ahead. "You mentioned a crypt. Maeryk can raise the dead so remind us again why going there's a good idea?"

Orvig's answer was matter-of-fact and monotone. "Many generations of Aslers have been laid to rest in the tombs below, and that includes relics, keepsakes, and family heirlooms... some of great power. I cannot let them fall into the wrong hands."

Peter called over his shoulder. "Besides, Lucas... Hieroneous gifts his Paladins with a second sense when it comes to evil. We would feel dark intent if it draws close."

Lucas huffed. "Hungh... I'm gone for a day and suddenly Peter is a Paladin."

Harold snickered. "Hey... the call can come at any time... but the fact that he already thinks he knows everything that goes into it is funnier."

Arthur stalled any further chiding at his eldest's expense by putting a stop to it. "Lucas... Harold... that's enough."

Lucas just sniffed dejectedly, and raised his little talons, making several gestures in the air before murmuring; Arthur watched the Kobold's eyes glow softly before announcing "There's latent magical energy here... some of it old, but most of it new."

Harold, who had stepped up to walk beside Arthur sniffed the air. The group came to a stop at a set of two large oak doors and the Gnoll stated "There's blood up ahead... and it's pretty recent."

Both of the Paladins looked to one another, and that was when the blacksmith noticed their grave expressions. "What? What is it?"

They responded in unison. "Something feels wrong."

Lucas moved up to one side of the door and gestured to it as he dug around in the small spell pouch at his side. "Well then, by all means... after you, big brother."

Harold moved to take up a position beside the Kobold, drawing out his bow and knocking an arrow. "Whatever IS down here, I'm barely walking... don't mind me if I hang back."

Peter glanced to his brothers and then looked back to Orvig. "That's a good point. Orvig, where can we find the healing potions? Are there any stored down here?"

The Orc offered a non-committal shrug. "There may be some healing poultices in the supply room but potions, if there are any left, would be in the armory."

Harold was quick enough to jump on that option. "Okay... which way to each?"

Orvig motioned with a gesture before stating. "Beyond this door is the main room. Both are to the left."

Putting his shoulder against the massive wooden door, Peter pushed it open with his weight and stepped in first. Arthur quickly filled the space behind Orvig as the Orc joined the Minotaur in stepping into the doorway. Although it was day outside the descent into the basement meant that little light shined down through the doors and it was hard for the Human to make out what lay beyond. It surprised him when both Paladins came to a stop. "What is it?"

Peter took a step back, almost stepping on him before saying. "Bodies... so many bodies. Corpses. Women and children and the elderly."

Lucas spoke up calmly from behind them "That's never a good sign."

Although Arthur couldn't see Orvig very well he could hear the sound of his metal gauntlet vibrating as he clenched his fist. "That wizard will pay for this..."

Peter spoke a quiet prayer for the souls of the departed then drew his sword and readied his shield; as if responding to his presence, the corpses began to shift, rising up and leveling empty eye sockets filled with pin pricks of malevolent red light. "They're moving... the bodies..."

Arthur pulled out his war hammer; although he could barely see he realized that he had to be ready to protect his family. Peter, however, had other plans and shooed everyone else back through the doorway. "No one else is allowed to die down here. This place has seen enough death."

Orvig wasn't so reserved. "We have to get past them... Peter, step back and make them fight in the doorway; their superior numbers won't matter if we use the bottleneck to our strategic advantage."

The Minotaur, Orc, and Arthur blocked off the doorway; while the opening was easily ten feet wide it was still much more narrower than the hallway, and keeping the undead in the enclosed space meant the three members of the group could combine their attacks against two foes at a time; it was sound logic, and Arthur gripped his war hammer in preparation of the incoming attack. When it came, it came quickly.

Two skeletal corpses rushed the door with surreal speed, but Peter was ready for them; he swung his sword twice, pulverizing one and reducing it to a pile of broken bones. The second put the force of its charge behind its swing and Arthur cried out in surprise and alarm when the blade pierced his son's hide, drawing a huge line through the thick fur and flesh; fresh blood splattered onto the stone floor.

Fortunately for Peter, Orvig was right next to him; with but a touch, the Orc's hand caused staunched the bleeding and the wound closed. He offered a warning "The undead have supernatural strength... guard yourself well, Peter."

Arthur, standing to one side of the door, did not have an effective angle from which to swing his war hammer so he focused on biding his time. The scent of guano and sulfur filled his nose and he heard Lucas chanting from behind him. The Kobold murmured something in a strange language and shouted a final syllable; the darkness in front of the group was banished as an enormous wall of fire burst into existence just behind the remaining skeletons, illuminating everything for Arthur.

The main hall of the basement was a large, subterranean room held up by four sturdy pillars. Aside from the doorway guarded by the group there were three other exits: one to each wall. The exit across from the group was sealed by two massive doors; a small passage to the left led out of view and a larger one to the right did likewise. Of more importance, however, it appeared that, as Peter had indicated, the main hall was filled with corpses, and far too many of them were moving.

In addition to the skeleton that had struck Peter and the one the Minotaur had killed, a third one lingered close by. It was that one which caught the blacksmith's attention. Arthur swung at the remaining at it with all his might. "No one hurts my boys!"

His hammer could easily have been made destroying skeletons; the bag of bones exploded from the fury of his strike. With the way clear, the blacksmith got a better glimpse at the rest of their foes. Further back in the room were at least six shuffling corpses, perhaps more. Arthur wasn't sure how many were there in total since most of the zombies were wildly illuminated by the fanning flames; some had even caught fire themselves.

The light by which to see was a great improvement for the Human, but not everybody seemed to share in the sentiment. Recoiling from the suddenly lit room, Orvig raised his shield to cover his face. "Too bright!"

Even as Orvig stepped back to regain his vision, the mass of zombies pressed forward, shuffling toward them and heedless of the fire. The blazing might of the wall incinerated them as they tried to pass through. The vast majority were turned to ash before even reaching it, and one didn't even make it half way through. Chuckling from behind the group, Lucas hissed in satisfaction. "Sorry for the smell."

Arthur pushed the apology aside; although the smell of charred meat was never a pleasant one he'd experienced much worse during the hot summers with the shop filled with four sweaty bodies. "Reminds me of the forge."

Harold, who had a far better sense of smell didn't agree. "You mean the time that one cat fell into the chimney?"

Peter snorted, swinging his sword at the final skeleton approached the doorway, accentuating the blow with a mindful objection. "Manners!"

Lucas giggled. "He didn't say 'language' that time."

Quickly stepping in to fill the space left by Orvig, the Kobold reached out and rested a talon on Peter's sword arm. Lucas murmured something softly and, as the spell concluded, his slender digits glowed softly; the illumination was mirrored by Peter's weapon. The Minotaur looked down at his sword. "What was that?"

The Kobold grinned up at his eldest brother. "Magic. If we're fighting undead the least I can do is make sure you're ready to do some real damage."

Harold, who had obviously been focusing more on the remaining undead than his brothers' chat pointed out "Got another one incoming."

All eyes went to the remaining zombie as it stumbled into the wall, dissolving into ash before it made it more than a step. Lucas glanced toward the Gnoll, a self-satisfied smirk on his scaled maw. "You were saying?"

With no enemies left, the Kobold snapped his fingers and the fire was immediately extinguished. Arthur noticed the absence of light right away. "And now I am blind again."

He felt a paw pad gently grip his arm and Harold spoke to the group. "Hey... Anyone have any sticks? Wood? Something flammable... and expendable? Dad can't see."

The blacksmith took note that he wasn't completely blind; what remained of several corpses still smoldered so he could just manage to make out the shape of the room, but the difference wasn't that distinct so he said nothing. A moment later he jumped in surprise when Lucas took hold of his hand and murmured something that sounded like "sock toe maw."

Arthur's eyes itched and he blinked away the irritation; upon opening them up, he suddenly realized that he could see with complete clarity in the blackness... though everything was in black and white. He spoke in surprise. "I can see!"

Lucas giggled beside him. "That's the point, Dad!"

The blacksmith continued to gaze around, astonished how well he could see, granted, the darkness became impenetrable after a few dozen yards, but the magic obviously had a noticeable effect... except he quickly realized that the white-and-black view of everything was a little distracting. "Are you sure you did it right, Lucas? I don't see color anywhere..."

The Kobold let out a dejected huff, followed by a gruff. "Yeah, Dad... that's how vision works in the dark... you gotta have light for colors."

Peter was a little bit gentler about explaining. "Father... look at the burning cloth... that should help explain."

Arthur did as suggested and saw, surprisingly, that the Minotaur was correct; rather than flickering light near the burning fabric he saw flickering color. "Wow..."

Orvig, who had since recovered his own sight after the surprise addition to the wall of fire, looked to him. "I believe everyone here has had years to become familiar with seeing in the dark. I cannot imagine how it must seem to someone doing it for the first time."

Harold cleared his throat from off to Arthur's right. "So... we're kinda standing here, not doing much... milling about... is it because Peter's maybe taking up the doorway with his massive body? Hey, mind moving yer fat flank, rump-roast?"

Arthur chastised his middle son right away. "Harold! Be polite! We're regrouping."

The Gnoll grunted, ears falling slightly. "Sorry Dad..." He turned to his brother and stated "Could you get your tenderloin through the door... PLEASE?"

The Minotaur let out a neutral snort and did just that. Stepping into the room, Peter clopped across the way to peer down the side corridor to the left. "It looks like a small tunnel... that must be the storage room there-- crates and sacks?"

Orvig moved to follow. "Yes. That would be the root cellar. The armory is attached to it through a set of double doors."

Arthur joined the two, accompanied by Lucas and Harold. The Kobold had always been far slower than the rest of the family due to his small size and short legs so the blacksmith was familiar with setting a pace his youngest son could keep; Peter and Orvig were already talking about the room's contents by the time Arthur and his younger sons arrived. The Minotaur's questions were fairly straight-forward. "Shields, salves, and potions? Where would we find them?"

The Orc pointed to the two large reinforced doors on the right side of the room. "Armory for weapons and armor and potions... the salve may be on one of the shelves there."

Arthur followed Orvig's gesture to where a shelf and a storage closet were situated against the left wall. The blacksmith also took in the entirety of the cluttered room's contents: there was a crate against the far wall with a knapsack resting atop it; five barrels were also in close proximity and what looked like a well was to the left of the door in the left wall. He was left wondering why a well would be dug from a basement, but his consideration was cut short as Peter began rummaging around on the shelves, knocking more than one item off and onto the floor; one was a ceramic bowl, which shattered. "Be careful, Peter... we are in someone's home."

From behind him, Harold mumbled to Lucas "Or UNDER where one USED to be."

Arthur shot his son a glance to silence him, then looked back to Peter. "Find anything?"

The Minotaur continued pushing items around, albeit, with more care. "Nothing yet, Father... this looks like it's all pottery and dinnerware... LOTS of dinnerware."

The blacksmith moved over to join his eldest, giving Peter a gentle tap on the ribs. "Lower shelf... here."

The size difference between the two meant that the Human only had to look down while his son had to bend, and the two regarded a collection of bottles, jars, and flasks, all filled with a variety of fluids and one with multicolored powder. Peter looked back to the Orc, who was standing guard at the hallway from which the group entered. "Orvig... which of the bottles has the healing thingie?"

Lucas let out a hissing snort. "Did you say 'healing thingie'? Are you a calf again, Peter? It's a salve... like a lotion."

Harold gave the Kobold a light elbow. "You'd know all about lotions, you little scale-molter."

Lucas whipped the Gnoll in the back of his thigh with his tail. "You promised not to joke about that, EVER! I don't joke about when you start shedding out all your--"

Orvig interrupted. "If there's any healing unguent it will be in a small, squat jar. It's a slightly cloudy paste."

Arthur identified the jar right away but the contents were a liquid. Peter said as much, calling over his shoulder "None of these look like a paste."

The Orc clarified "It turns thick when exposed to the air."

Peter grabbed the jar Arthur pointed to and opened it, sniffing faintly at it. Arthur and his son watched as the light grey contents turned into a cloudy gel. The Minotaur looked back up at him. "Do you think this counts as a 'paste'?"

Harold joined them by the shelf while Lucas went over to inspect the bags by the other wall. The Gnoll peered at the jar Peter held. "Think we can speed this up a bit? My arm wound is bleeding again and I'm hurting here..."

The Minotaur shrugged. "Not sure... are we just supposed to drink this or something? It looks too thick to go down easy."

Orvig shifted his stance, hefting his shield up again as he spoke. "It is a salve, not a potion. You apply it to wounds and it helps them heal. We should finish up here... the next stop should be the armory, and then the crypt."

Lucas looked up from an opened bag of what looked like some kind of grain. "You know... I'm not really that interested in dying for old family hand-me-downs. Anyone else?"

Arthur left the salve to Peter and Harold and went to join Lucas by the sacks. He knelt down to move the knapsack off of the crate and forced the lid. Rummaging around the contents, he spoke aside to his son "Be polite, Lucas... we're here to help Orvig."

Inspecting the contents, the blacksmith saw that the crate contained a large store of torches, candles, tinder, and flint. He looked over his shoulder to reveal his find but a strange, otherworldly sensation flowed over him, stifling him to silence. Gazing about the room, Arthur saw that his sons had likewise fallen silent and everyone's fur and/or hair was on end. Orvig put a voice to the disconcerting feeling first, describing exactly what was on Arthur's mind. "There is something down here with us... And it knows we are here."

Lucas stood up immediately. "Okay... now it's REALLY time to go."

Orvig pointed to the doors behind Lucas. "Alright... Armory is through there, and beyond is the crypt."

Harold scowled, turning to face the Orc. "Is whatever's in the crypt really worth dying for?"

Orvig let out a deep breath. "Perhaps... or perhaps not, but I wouldn't want them to be left behind for robbers or, worse, for the wizard." He then turned to the blacksmith. "Arthur, I know won't be able to do this alone, but I also know that you have your sons to think about. I won't hold you to your promise for help in this, and if you are not certain--"

Harold spoke up, objecting from behind Arthur. "Hey!"

Glancing back at his son, the Blacksmith saw that Lucas had pulled the small jar of ointment out of Peter's grasp and was applying it to himself. The Kobold's dulled and damaged scales immediately turned vibrant and, while he still appeared battered, he looked far better than he had before applying it.

Harold grabbed the jar next. "Great... my turn!"

Arthur objected. "Harold! Be polite."

Harold offered a half-hearted apology then raised the jar to his muzzle, sticking his tongue out as if about to drink it, but he was interrupted when Lucas punched him in the stomach. "Don't EAT it, Harold."

Orvig, who had moved closer to the armory, reminded the Gnoll "It's a salve. You apply it to the wound."

The middle brother noted indignantly "Well, burnt flux! I don't know how magic stuff works!"

Lucas let out a long sigh, rubbing the bridge of his snout in frustration. "Honestly, Dad, sometimes I just don't know where you went wrong with them."

Arthur frowned; the stress was obviously getting to his sons; they usually weren't so combative. "Be nice, Lucas."

Harold loosened his bandage and applied the ointment to his wound. Although the bleeding stopped the injury was bad enough that it didn't do any obvious healing beyond that. The Gnoll grunted, flexing his arm. "Pain's not as bad... I think I need some more."

Harold makes to use it but Orvig interjected. "The ointment is alchemy not magic. Its powers are limited and only helps the natural healing process... You need to wait to benefit from it again."

At the announcement, Arthur took the remaining ointment and stowed it into his hip pouch. He glanced back to the crate he'd found and went to gather the knapsack that he'd set aside; having a container to store supplies was an invaluable bonus, and he began loading it up with fire starting supplies.

Peter, in the meantime, moved to open the armory door, paused, running into it when it didn't budge. "Uh... it's locked."

Lucas rolled his eyes. "Oh... a locked door. If only we had a big muscled horned battering ram that says 'moo' when frustrated."

Harold thumbed toward the door next to Arthur. "Let's take the other way... the one that leads outside."

As Harold began to explain the benefits of leaving, Arthur continued to load up items into the backpack; before he realized it, the crate was completely empty, but the cloth sack felt no heavier and looked as though it could carry far more than was already in it. A loud sundering impact pulled his attention away from the backpack as Peter threw his body, shoulder first through the armory door.

Lucas seemed pleased with the result, exclaiming "Finally!" and padded off after his brother.