An Old Member
Posted: Thu Nov 21, 2013 12:00 am
Far below the mortuary, within the area full of sealed crypts, it was business as usual. It was quiet and dark. Sound was almost nonexistent here and not even a faint breeze drifted down the lifeless halls. The walls and doors of the area were innately carved with frescos and designs depicting an amazing assortment of scenes. Most were family designs or those of tribes, race or wealth. They were all equally impressive. Very rarely would these crypts be opened for most of them were filled with the corpses of important or wealthy people who had planned to return to consciousness at some pointÂ… or those who at least hoped to. Not everyone was cut out for the afterlife and not everyone actually made it. Some people experienced all the different levels of death on terms of natural passing and would never return in any form in this place. On this particular day, things changed a bit.
The noise of stone grating on stone began to rumble from far down one of the side passages. Several undead guardians in the area, mostly skeletons and zombies, awoke out their endless slumber and instinctively moved towards that direction as they had been ordered long ago. One of the crypt doors was slowly opening, triggered from the inside. As the undead guards neared, a tall elven figure stepped out of the room inside. It stood taller than most elves and had eyes the glowed a dull yellow. Long fingernails were cracked and skin clung to the bones underneath. It was dressed in ancient elven clothing that showed his importance within his clanÂ… Clan Arch-Mage to those who might recognize such ancient markings of the elven races.
The undead moved towards the elf and then stopped. They felt no life from the intruder so felt no threat. They merely stood there blankly watching it. The elf looked at them closely, and then frowned. A motion of his hand and they took a step back. He looked at them again and shook his head. A word was spoken and the few minor undead that was near him turned to dust. He looked down the dark passage; his eyes showing him all he needed to see and then closed the crypt behind him. Another word was spoken, alighting all the glyphs across its surface, and he began his walk down the hall towards the stairs.
Above him, in chambers used by members more active than the quiet dead below, some of the occupants are innately alerted to the situation below.
The noise of stone grating on stone began to rumble from far down one of the side passages. Several undead guardians in the area, mostly skeletons and zombies, awoke out their endless slumber and instinctively moved towards that direction as they had been ordered long ago. One of the crypt doors was slowly opening, triggered from the inside. As the undead guards neared, a tall elven figure stepped out of the room inside. It stood taller than most elves and had eyes the glowed a dull yellow. Long fingernails were cracked and skin clung to the bones underneath. It was dressed in ancient elven clothing that showed his importance within his clanÂ… Clan Arch-Mage to those who might recognize such ancient markings of the elven races.
The undead moved towards the elf and then stopped. They felt no life from the intruder so felt no threat. They merely stood there blankly watching it. The elf looked at them closely, and then frowned. A motion of his hand and they took a step back. He looked at them again and shook his head. A word was spoken and the few minor undead that was near him turned to dust. He looked down the dark passage; his eyes showing him all he needed to see and then closed the crypt behind him. Another word was spoken, alighting all the glyphs across its surface, and he began his walk down the hall towards the stairs.
Above him, in chambers used by members more active than the quiet dead below, some of the occupants are innately alerted to the situation below.