Unforseen Horrors

[Miri]

In my life, I have seen and done many things.  Some of them.. no, a large amount of them, have been unsavory to say the least.  Many, especially my time infiltrating the Cult of Pleasure, have scarred me in one way or another.  What I saw this night has added to that network, layering yet another blazing line on the map of my mind and soul.

I had been wandering again, this time in Ilshenar, helping Gift Krieger and a few others track down the goddess AtE.  It had been a noble hunt, for what that is worth, an effort to bring about the end to the problem faced by many: the angry creatures of the world.  Thankfully we succeeded and, in short order, the goddess lay slain at our feet.
I had been doubly glad of that for, since I had become the disciple of Lahessa, the voices of none-Elven gods had given me frightful headaches when I had heard them; a side-effect I had planned to ask my Lady to remedy but had never gotten around to.  All day AtE had been speaking, her voice reverberating across the land and spearing into my mind like blades of fire.
Unfortunately, she had been having a conversation with another, one whose voice I had hoped never to hear again.

The goddess and her minions slain, we returned to Magincia content in the knowledge that the problem was over.  Little did we know that our problems had only just begun.

It was whilst we were standing there in the safety of the town, the birdsong sweet in our ears and our hearts full from a job well done that the beast reared his ugly head once more.
I sensed him moving.  The unnatural one, the enemy of life, the lich who named himself a god.  Perhaps I should not have done, yet my bond with the Goddess of Death herself allows me these things on occasion.
At first I thought that it could not be.  He had been banished!  He had been captured and locked away by the warriors of the Empire!  Doomed to spend eternity in a cell with nothing but his own rotten flesh for company.  Yet, I felt the need to investigate.  Perhaps, I thought, if the creature has found a way out I might warn the others of the land to be on their guard.
And so, I made my way to his tomb.
Using my skills with shadows, I crept past the guardian and into that forsaken place.  All was as it should be: dank, dark and silent save for the squeaking of the rats and the scrapings as the undead fiend himself shuffled around his pit.
Sensing something out of place, I stealthily made my way closer, keeping my eyes and ears attuned to my surroundings in case of any surprises.  Bound and entombed he may have been, but I did not trust the creature for an instant.
I stopped less then twenty feet from the monster.  The smell of burning flesh and countless other ingredients assailed my nostrils and I felt the urge to purge my stomach, but I reigned that feeling in.  Something was happening, and I knew without doubt that no good would come of it.  I had to stay silent, stay still, watch and learn what I could before it could discover me.

At first, nothing happened.  The lich stood next to a brazier, keeping his dusty clothes and parchment dry skin as far away from the flames as possible whilst still being near enough to work his charms.  I would have stopped him then had I known how, but to my shame I did not.
Instead I watched as the form of a friend appeared before the lich.
Gift Krieger, a man I had hunted alongside only a short time before, now stood in front of Abraxius.
He blinked, a little dazed by the transportation perhaps, but certainly confused by his surroundings.
'Who are you?' he asked, his strong voice echoing around the dusty tomb.  'What do you want with me?'
'Who I am does not matter,' I heard the lich reply, his dry, rasping voice hissing from wall to wall like a bag of angry snakes.  'And it is not you I want, but who you used to be.'
Intrigued and confused, I watched as Abraxius summoned the mindless form of the daemon ShadowStone to his side.  I had witnessed his making so many moons ago, seen how the lich had coldly and oh so easily slain his most trusted follower and turned him into a moronic pet.
Gift tried to run, to get away from the demon and its master, but he could not.  Strong magics rooted his feet to the floor.  In desperation, he cried out for help...
But I could do nothing for him.  I have no gift with magery, not even the merest spark.  That which held the proud and noble warrior was beyond my understanding, and the two that stood before him, one staring blankly into space and the other wearing the cruelest smile on his decayed face, were beyond my skill.
Sorrow hit me, bowing my head as I realized what was to come, but I forced myself to look up once more.  I could do nothing to save Gift, but at least I could bear witness to his demise.

As I looked on, wretched in my helplessness, Abraxius struck Gift a single blow.  The friend and savior of so many was dead before his body hit the cold, dusty floor.
That in itself was bad enough.  My heart cried out at such an ignoble death.  Gift had not even had chance to strike back at the creature!
But nothing could prepare me for what happened next.
With a cold, inhuman laugh, Abraxius ripped the heart from his daemon pet.  Summoning his dark magics, he used the still-beating organ to call back that which had been taken and, before my eyes, the body of Gift arose once more.

However, it was not Gift Krieger that stood not twenty feet from me.  It was not Gift Krieger that made obesience to the dried out husk of the lich.  The notorious ShadowStone, the greatest warrior that the Cult of Malas had ever boasted, had risen from the grave and taken on new life in the body of a man I had once called a friend.

Stunned and shaken, I watched a little while longer as the lich gave ShadowStone instruction to rebuild the failing Cult of Malas and then, when I judged it safe, I left to spread warning.

ShadowStone stalks the lands once more.