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[Martin Willow]

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The air within the gloomy room was stationary, having been undisturbed for some great length of time. Spider webs had grown not only from the small nooks and crannies, but literally from floor to ceiling. Long-expired torches hung from the walls, their tips slightly burnt but otherwise reflecting a lack of use since they had been put in place. And that was some time ago indeed.

The library beneath the dungeon of Covetous was strewn with random assortments of bones, long since separated from their companions and now only decorating the stone floor. Smashed furniture filled the room, save a massive wooden table that gave the impression it would never age. Bookshelves, some with their contents scattered, others neatly, almost methodically arranged, lined the walls, seemingly at home amongst their cobweb veils. But not for long.

Martin Willow, Grand Paladin of the Trinsic Honor Guard, stood in the doorway and sighed, three of his fingers once more poking through the gash in his bag of reagents. The lack of the magical components meant no way to depart the disparaging place in a hurry, nor to defend himself from all the fun little things that lived….well….dwelled within the halls of this ancient citadel. One of those roving skeletons with a favor for axes had taken a swing at him that had come to close, for all intents and purposes. It was unfortunate for Martin that he had been starring at an upside down map of the dungeon instead of watching for such creatures. It was more unfortunate for the skeleton that a nightmare following her owner does not appreciate something taking a swing at him.

Of course, his abilities as a paladin could take him swiftly away from this place, but he had not forced his way through all the monsters only to leave when a small misfortune struck. Looking down at the gash once more, it appeared to be more like roughly three inches of misfortune. No matter, he had reached the library of the place, and thus had reached half his goal. Now if only he could see it.

Producing a torch from his backpack, Martin took a step into the room, leading his nightmare, Cheesecake, in as he kicked something across the floor. It banged and clattered, bouncing off of things and apparently heading farther into the room. A brief silence, and then a massive crash, followed by the same banging and clattering as before, ten fold. When the noise finally ceased, Martin’s face bore a chagrined look, despite the fact that no one could see him. Turning to look at his nightmare, Martin saw that her deep red eyes, characteristic of nightmares, were starring hard at him accusingly. “Oh, shut up….” He replied to her gaze, taking a cautious step further into the room and pulling her after him.

As they entered, the door squeaked closed behind them, shutting out the faint light cast from the burning robes of a lich Cheesecake had made short work off. Cast into total darkness, Martin looked again at those red eyes, even more accusingly. “Didn’t I just tell ya to shut up?” he mumbled, feeling his way along her neck and around to her side.
“You’re worse than Molly sometimes, you know?”

Grinning to himself as Cheesecake let out a huff, Martin held his torch out in front of her mouth, and quickly slapped her hard on the back. A small ball of fire shot from the nightmare, setting the torch ablaze instantly. The flaming mass then continued on at the same angle, striking the floor and scattering the bones there, leaving a burning residue behind before then ricocheting up and landing dead center in the wall between to fully loaded bookshelves. Oily flame dripped from the burning spot in the wall, and drops from the fireball’s brief flight left flaming signals straight back to a surprised Martin. Cheesecake slowly turned her head to look at him with those damned eyes again.

“Look girl; one, my ethereal horse does not give me nearly this much backtalk, so be happy you’re along. Two, how was I supposed to know the damn things bounce?”

The nightmare seemingly rolled her eyes at him, turned her head and walked into the room, stomping out the little flames on the floor as she went, until she reached the far wall, where she turned and looked at him.
“Yea, just watch from there while I’m searching” Martin said, taking the burning torch in his right hand and turning towards the first shelf filled with books. Not really sure what he was looking for, he propped the torch in a convenient hook and pulled a tome at random from the shelf. Opening it, Martin watched in surprise as the text on the pages quickly erased itself, the book becoming rapidly blank. Martin blinked, and then took another text from the shelf. In this one, the pages stuck solidly together, forming one solid block of parchment.

Frowning and glancing up at the shelf, Martin scanned the titles, and then noticed runes engraving themselves into the top of the bookcase. Roughly translated, the message read “These Text Exist Only For Those Who Walk a Dark Path…” Martin let out a huff, and watched the engravings fill themselves in and then disappear. In their place appeared a message in plain English; “Stupid Pawn of Honor….”

“Spirits…” Martin said, rolling his eyes and moving on to the next bookshelf. Checking its borders for any more smart alack remarks, Martin was satisfied to find them devoid of mockery. The books on this shelf, however, were stacked vertically and without any organization. Taking the top one off the shelf, Martin opened it and leapt back as the pages burst out of the book and into the air before him. Spinning about in a mock tornado, the pages suddenly plunged inward and forward a human shape. The shape grinned at Martin, gave a mock salute, and vanished. Dropping the empty binding, Martin decided to skip that shelf too.

Cheesecake was standing in front of the third shelf. A jerk of Martin’s head told her to move out of the way, and she trotted deeper into the room. Propping his torch once again beside the shelf, Martin glanced through the various titles. Death is Only the Beginning Vol. 1(The other volumes apparently missing from the shelves, it appeared to be the end too); Reassembling Busted Bodies: The Neck Bone from the Leg Bone. None of them seemed to hold any real significance. Smogg had been right about the books; all the ones of any real value had been taken, besides the ones on the first shelf, which seemed to “kill” themselves if he even touched them, and probably did the same if someone tried to leave with one.

Martin sighed. The Council had approved the proposal for a Necromatic form of defense, but Martin wanted to be knowledgeable about it before it was implemented. The concept of an army of Trinsic’s former warriors, brought back willingly to defend the city, was interesting, anyway. Especially as Martin had believed all those spirits that inhabited undead corpses were forced against their will to do so. If it was possible that willing spirits could be brought back to their bodies…..well, then this spell did not reek so much of the black necromancy Martin was so used to. But first he needed tomes that could teach him something of the willing return of a spirit!

A female voice filled the room. “Chapter 17: Spirit Reclamation though means Magical and Otherwise.”

Martin jumped, and turned to look at the origin of the voice. Cheesecake was standing over a book lying on the table. Martin arched an eyebrow. “Uh...was that…?”

Cheesecake gave him as withering a glare as a horse without pupils could do, and looked straight at the book. Taking his torch and walking over, Martin glanced down at the book, reading the title of the page it was opened to; Chapter 17: Spirit Reclamation though means Magical and Otherwise. Martin eyed Cheesecake, who seemed to shrug, and then wandered back to the corner she had been occupying before.

Martin looked around the room for something to sit on, spying several shattered chair frames. Farther down, three chairs covered with sheets sat in a loose triangle. Pulling the sheet from the chair, Martin was only mildly surprised to find an armored, skeletal corpse sitting in it, its jaw slack and its bones devoid of flesh, a pleasant hole at least three inches square dead center in the top of the skull. Martin shifted the chair to eject the body, and it obliged him, the head rolling backward over the chair while the rest lazily leaned forward and came apart as it contacted the floor. Starring down at the head with the hole in the top, and the torch in his hand, Martin had an idea.

Soon Martin was sitting before the book Cheesecake had found, the skull supporting the torch, leaving his hands free to more important things, like twiddling his thumbs while the book recounted more of its contents. Idly, he removed the katana he carried from its place on his belt, and laid it on the table. The torchlight reflecting off the blade amused Martin somewhat, as the book droned on.

The detailed descriptions of spells, rituals, and incantations gradually wore away at Martin’s interest, and his head slowly sank to the table, until it was resting on the book, which had just reached a section emphasizing the importance of concentration.

Some time later, Martin jerked awake, just in time to hear the book complete a thought: “…are the words for a simple spell, summoning mischievous spirits to nearby corpses. These spirits act without the casters control, making it an easy, yet unreliable spell. The simple pronunciation of the spell will almost immediately-”. The book’s words were cut short as the sound of medal on stone distracted Martin, just in time for him to see the blanket covering the second chair rise and lurch toward him. Its staggering approach revealed some deformity beneath the shroud that slowed its progress, yet Martin’s surprise at the sudden turn of events, combined with his half-awake state, froze him in place until the figure was nearly upon him.

A rotting hand swung high from the figure, and Martin moved his right arm to intercept. Halfway through the motion he noticed his fist was going to come up short of blocking the thing’s blow, three fourths through the motion he realized he still held his katana in said fist, and as he finished his swing, the thing’s hand and head noisily encountered the floor, followed shortly by the rest of the body.

Martin poked the body with his sword, and kicked the foot to make sure it was dead. Letting out a sigh of relief, he then noticed a faint noise coming from the entrance to the library; snickering. Turning and brandishing his torch like it was the sword he held idly at his side, Martin peered out of his circle of light at the form gradually taking shape as it approached. A man dressed in purple just like Martin, save for the white wizard’s hat he was wearing, stepped into the torch’s glow, holding his stomach to contain his laughter. Between giggles, he reached up and, with his free hand, tipped his hat to Martin.

Martin glared at him. “Hail Dak; nice of you to drop by; shut the hell up.”

This enticed a whole new slew of giggles from Dak, who Martin granted a full five minutes to get over. Once the fit subsided, Dak stood up straight and, because he liked doing it, tipped his hat to Martin again.

Martin rolled his eyes. “So, now that you’re here and being your usual useful self, how did you find me, Dak?”

Dak held up a fist full of various reagents, and grinned. “You’ve had a hole in you reg bag since you left the bank. Trail of them from here to Trinsic.” Giggle.

Martin’s face went neutral as he mentally grumbled over this, unconsciously fingering the hole in his bag.

“Alright, well I think I found what I was looking for,” Martin said after a moment, turning around and returning to his seat to gather the book that had been reading to him. With it in his left arm, Martin turned again to Dak, only to find a white-shrouded figure in Dal’s place. His sword arm twitched, but then Martin noticed the white wizard’s hat on top of the shroud. Standing in place, he glared at the figure, who threw its arms up in the air, causing the shroud to bounce, and stood in place for a minute.
Finally Dak pulled the sheet off and grinned. “You’re never any fun,” he said, producing a magical gate for them to return to Trinsic through. Calling to Cheesecake, Martin, Dak and the nightmare walked through the gate.

As the magic gate dispelled itself, the room was plunged back into darkness, save for the torch Martin had replaced in the skull before their departure. Amongst the shadows it cast around the room, had someone been there to notice, one detached itself from the third chair, the one still bearing its sheet. Sliding from underneath it, the shadow rolled along the floor, finally squeezing beneath the library door and beyond, seeking out its master to make a report.
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Grand Paladin of THG