Book 2: Chapter 2 - The Lady's Light

[Eilandor]

Fletcher steps back, takes a defensive stance and draws his now chipped greatsword. "Pilfer away."

[Vardaen]

The group is ready, and Zeevan's roguish tendencies. So he starts with something small, a bracelet of gold with a few small sapphires set in it. He lifts the hand, and finds the body is actually slightly warm to the touch, as if it was just a sleeping person and not some corpse. As he does that he sudden backs up, leaping away.

He starts to scream, "Noo! Nooo!" Raising his arms he holds them up to defend himself but is suddenly struck by some sort of invisible force that drives him to his knees. He's screams one last time then slumps over dead on the ground blood creeping from his nose and ears. His eyes are bloodshot and his face is twisted in horror. All examinations of him reveals, he is dead.

[Eilandor]

Fletcher takes another step back at the sight of Zeevan being physically harmed by something that has yet to show itself. As blood pours from every orifice, "What is at work here?"

[Trogdor]

As Zeevan fall to the ground, Rikkan rushes over to try and heal him. If that doesn't work, he resorts to a magical examination to see if necromantic magic is still at work on the unfortunate victim.

[Vardaen]

Rikkan rushes up to Zeevan's bleeding corpse. He pumps a healing hex into him, but it has no effect. The body is clearly dead, not from wounds, but some other source. A magical cantrip is cast and the ratman focuses on the body.

[Trogdor]

"Hmm," Rikkan mutters while examining the body. "Strong Illusion magic was at work here. If I don't miss my guess, he was slain by a Phantasmal Killer - literally scared to death." He continues to look over Zeevan's body with the spell for a few more moments. "But there's some odd necromantic magic at work too." His nose twitches. "I can't say that I like it. We should be doubly careful with Zeevan's body."

[JohnnyWeird]

"NO!"

Je's face is wracked by emotions - sorrow, grief, anger, loss - but these pass quickly to a schooled, stony countenance. His thoughts, when the broadcast, are expressionless, as if the emotions had been milled from him.

I have heard of undead creatures that make ubdead thralls of their victims. Could this be the case here?

[Trogdor]

"It's possible," Rikkan replies gravely. "Necromantic magic often involves reanimation of the dead."

He pauses a moment and adds to the group. "I didn't have time to get to know Zeevan very well. But I'm sorry for your loss."

[ManWithDoor]

The exceedingly attractive, preserved corpse suddenly stirs. She takes an audible, deep breath, then slowly sits up. "Mani marte? Mankoi naa amin e' y' -" After a long pause, she clears her throat and tries again. "What happened? Why was I speaking a weird language?" She pauses even longer, looking around. "And why am I in a coffin?"

[Trogdor]

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Rikkan mutters. "As best I can tell," he adds in a louder tone, "she started speaking an ancient form of Undercommon or Sulatar - possibly the root language of both. In any case, it's really old - as old as this ruin or older."

"Remember I said that the body might have been the result of a cloning spell? Well, I'm going to guess now that it had some other enchantments to help transfer a consciousness into the body. And I'm not sure it's reversible."