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Chapter 2 viewtopic.php?f=38&t=32638
Chapter 1
As the dusk settled Jupiter found himself reflecting on the battle. “A victory?,” he mused, not quite convinced. Yes, the race of men had rallied together and saved Vesper. The Urk's plans were thwarted, but he couldn’t stave off the looming doubts. The powerful beast, Krebluk, summoned by the Urks was troublesome, but nothing so unnerving as the ability to raise a whole army of the undead. It had taken nearly all the powers of affluence and political prowess of the highest ranking men to lay down their prejudices and unite enough men barely sufficient to mount a defensive against this twofold onslaught. Indeed had the murderers of the land shown up force, it may have proved the perfect trifecta to tip the scales and bring the fall of Vesper sooner than Jupiter had predicted. Would the men of this land be able to muster such a force again anytime soon? How long would it take for men to return to their quarrels? Jupiter could only press on and pray that the wounds delivered to the enemy this day would occupy them long enough not to look back and try again before he had time to chance another passage through the catacombs.
It had been a long time since he first began down the path of the Grey Order, even longer since his first, and only, passage through the catacombs. Seldom since then had he allowed himself to be overwhelmed by his personal desires; he had seen far too many of his fellow wizards succumb to powers too great to control and lose their minds, or worse… their souls. He had to be sure his motives were pure, lest he fall prey to the irresistible urge to stay there until the end of days chasing the past. Chasing what he had long since forgotten. Indeed a passage through those wretched caverns had to be just that, a passage.
His stomach had turned when he saw him. It had not done that in a long time. There was something about that commander Brymstone that didn’t set quite right. Jupiter was certain he did not possess the power necessary to resurrect such an army, yet he was leading the charge “and the corpses followed.” He knew he had read those lines somewhere before. “And the corpses followed,” he muttered out loud hoping that perhaps a vocal recital would prompt his memory to finish the lines. “And the corpses followed… separated from limb and crown!” Yes, didn’t notice it at first, but now as he recalled there was a division among the echelon of the undead. Right before the army rose, he remembered a sudden glimmer. At the time he discounted it for the glint off a blade, but it was the fastest teleportation he had ever witnessed he just didn’t realize it until now. The undead never flee. Fleeing would suggest sentient thought; a level of self-consciousness reserved only for those undead who dwell beyond the end of their mortal days long enough to be quickened sufficiently to recall their mortal lusts.
As he had feared, Jupiter knew a passage through the catacombs must be ventured again.
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