A place far away

[Slanke]

In a dark room, far away from Sundren a masked female opens a dusty tome.
Around the table numerous of tomes and books lies open.
With a big smile her rottening hand turns the pages. Theese books has not been opened for houndreds of years. This place was a true treasure for her studyes.
Beside her is also her own book, the "Necronomicon". She had made it from elves skin and demon hide and the blood of innocent children.
She will have tons of new information when she returns to Sundren.
She will do her final experiment when she returns there.
Her new employer will be surprised of her skills.
She had returned the sword of the orc they called "Mad Jack" to him, and he had been mighty impressed of her.
He had told her of this library and let her go study the ancient writings here.

"Mhhh. My return will be glorious"

[Lollercide]

~ The Triumvirate, Sundren ~

The bright sun pierced through the morning fog and lit up the study room in the Triumvirate. Hano paced back and forth within the rays of light peeking through one of their stained glass windows, holding a book by its spine. He had been at this all night. Studying this book, page after page after page he continued forcing what he could into his mind, so that he might understand the Divine and The True's blessings if only a little better. He knew this was the only way.

The only way he could hope to find the power to stop that witch.. To defend Sundren and his allies against her and all the other threats in the valley. Long has he avoided this path and actions, but no longer. He's walked a path that has shown him humiliation time and time again and now he'll fortify his weaknesses, use his mistakes against them, and through that become a Greater Paladin. To be able to stand neck and neck with this Necromancer and her newfound powers.

He claps the book shut, letting a fine mist of dust shoot from the pages and float into the light. "Samantha... Your time will come, witch. The True will give me strength.. Give me the strength so you'll stand under Tyr's judgement."

[Silas North]

~The Sundren Comfort Inn Room 1~

A long night of strange and frightful dreams came to a close at last with the sound of a heavy book clapping shut with a loud thump. Osclow awoke with a start, green eyes temporarily blinded by the sunlight pouring through the windows of his room. "Is someone there?" he asked just before shape and structure returned to his vision, revealing no one present, save for himself of course. The door and windows were locked. There was no need for concern. This thought repeated itself several times in the bard's mind before he finally calmed down and slid out from his bed. He was still so weary, still worn. How did the damn morning come so quickly?
The look on Hano's face still haunted him. It was a look reserved for those who were beyond hope and understanding. The touch of Torm brought with it a great deal of wisdom and understanding of what was foul and tainted in this world. Despite Hano's flaws, despite the self-doubt that still plauged him, he was a paladin of light and righteousness through and through. And that same paladin had given him the same look that Hano had given to despicable and foul creatures numerous times in the past.
The cold stare of Neradnal
The wicked, bellowing laughter of Mad Jack
Even the wretched, heartless smile of the late Kemnebi.
All evil beings, and all stung within the bards mind along with that look, that same damned look Hano had granted them and now the bard himself. Osclow wanted to smack him, to take that paladin by the throat and choke some sense into him.
Hano possessed no right to place him into the same group as those people! He had no right to look at him like that!
Thoughts of violence clouded over him, darkened his gaze and twisted within him a strange sense of satisfaction. Slowly he took up the greatsword that had been the cause of this strife. Dark runic symbols began to come into existance along the blade's metal surface, further illustrating his anger and dark thoughts. This blade brought strength. This blade brought power. Who was Hano to tell him that his mind was in danger. He had had the sword for a while now and always kept control. It was the tool and he was the wielder. The symbols continued to shine their purple light and black flame upon the blade. Osclow was not certain what was making him feel so warm and comfortable, but it was a far cry better than the aches that overtook him when he first pulled his weary form from his bed.
"I believe I found a wonderful substitute for coffee." Osclow quipped with a smirk far darker than his usual fare, but far more brief as well. The smile had faded when he held the blade in both hands now, tilting it forward and bringing his gaze unintentionally upon his own reflection within the metal and flaring runes. Just as he had seen that night in the Temple of the Triumvirate, he saw a face that was not his own, but something hideous and repulsive. It was a face that could bring a child to tears.
A child.
A child like his daughter.
The dark clouds in his mind parted, cast aside by a wind of reason and a vision of tears shed by the one person whom meant more to Osclow than life itself. Big blue eyes, bright like the sky were reddened now by a flurry of tears. Why was she crying? It could not possibly have been because of him. He took up this sword to make her dreams come true, to give her everything she wanted, everything that he owed her after taking away so much. Yet, all he was bringing her now was tears.
Quickly he realeased the blade, practically tossing it aside like a malfunctioning blastglobe seconds from detonation. The runes continued to flare, but were faultering somewhat. Their power did not gain admiration, but anger from the bard no matter how hard they tried now. The failure to sway the bard slowly snuffed the black flames and the runes disappeared bit by bit, quickly re-igniting themselves once more as Osclow turned away.
What was this?
Why was it still trying so hard?
"I am not yours to munipulate!!..."
Quickly the bard realized, through the connection he shared with the sword, he knew this to be something else entirely. The blade was practically laughing, hysterical about something else other than the potential corruption of another soul.
"You.. are excited... about something.. anticipating something... or someone."
Osclow looked to the window seeing a series of dark clouds coming over the city on what was supposed to be a clear day for once.

[Lollercide]

Days turned into weeks turned into months. Hano couldn't help but stop and think about that one event so long ago. The last time the Necromancer stood before him, hiding her conceited smile behind that mask of hers, and speaking her intentions to him.

He placed his hands against the wall letting his eyes drift briefly to the corner of his room. His mind escaped him bringing him back to all that had happened since she had left. The allies he had gained, the ones lost, and the ones that betrayed him. He imagined that she, like himself, would have been completely changed like he had been. "Times have been hard, and... I wouldn't admit it, but... I can't wait to see what has become of you. To stand against your new-found power and knowledge. To bear my strengthened oaths and my battle tempered blade against them." Letting a sigh escape him he pulls his hands from the wall and paces around.

"To show you what has become of the weak man you once towered over so victoriously. With that stupid smile. Staring at him as he choked on his own blood with those malicious eyes." He holds his hand in front of him as if caressing a figure before him. "Prying his father's sword from his very grasp. Too weak and powerless to stop you." His gauntlet shakes as he grasps the image, tightening his fingers into a fist.

"You fed on it... I know you did. You enjoyed every second of it, even as you bled onto him from the wounds he inflicted." Hano stops himself, letting out a sigh and dropping his hand. Looking to the ceiling, his eyes focused on the stained glass window projecting the sun's light onto him. "I'm not that man any more. The next time we meet, it will be different. The next time we meet... You will finally find your place before the Triad. To answer for your sins." He brings his gauntlet to the light, staring endlessly into the signet. Marcus Wyndham's - The Great Undead Hunter of the Swordcoast's Signet.

Smiling to himself he could almost hear the Necromancer purring, as if she were standing behind him. He found a sort of sick comfort in it. Knowing that she will, in time, once more engage Hano and his allies. That there will be a day where he will be able to turn that conceited smile and those malicious eyes into an expression of terror as she faces judgment.

[Slanke]

The day had come.
Samantha steps into the vagon that is headed to sundren.
In her bag she has 3 fresh books.
It began with notes she wrote from the old books, and it ended in 3 whole books.
"mmmh, I should be able to complete the whole thing in 2 or 3 experiments."
She had researched this for over a decade.
They had taken her notebook, spellbook, weapon and hunted her. Delaying her precious research, but now she had gotten the time and peace... And the glorious library.

The journy took many days, but Samantha was all busy studying her books.
She petted the greatsword by her side: "Mhhh.. My dear. I am sure ye have missed me."
She looks at it and remember tearing it out of Hanos hand.
"Y'er fathers was it not?" Then she smiles and goes back to the books.

Over a tenday later she steps out of the vagon.
She walks directly over to the man that gave her acess to the library.
He will require favors, but the information she has gained is worth it.
After a short talk, he lets her go. He has approved her studyes and will let her continue.
She heads over to the Necropolis. Not sure of what the "new" masters have done the last months ((years?)), she gently aproaches the zombies. They charges towards her, but stops when they see who she is. She smiles, they still let me be.
"Now my pretty babyes.. Why are ye worried so?" She scouts the area. There!! She sees a human up in the hillside. She waves her arms and suddenlty she apears right next to him. "What are ye doin' here?"
The man said he had heard of her, knew who she was, claimed he was studying Necromancy. Just what she needed, her experiment would be to hard to complete on her own.
He set along with her. She needed someone for her first test, Perhaps a hafling would be best? theyr body is so small.. Or, perhaps a human child would be the best?
Well.. The first lonly adventurer would be okay, she finaly thought.

Then the two headed out.

[Larando]

Larando had been sitting atop the ledge of the crypt in Necropolis for some time. He waited ever so patiently for acceptance into the halls of this great building. He needed in to continue his studies (it was his whole reason for coming here, i the first place). No word had been sent yet, but people seemed to tolerate him there as long as he did not enter...everyone except the zombies, that is. But from where he was, a zombie would have to grow wings to reach him. That drew a chuckle from within him that almost startled him.

He watched the road as the zombies wandered around the grounds. They are a dumb lot, he thought to himself. He saw one in the distance that seemed to be walking with more purpose than the rest. As it approached closer to the building, he realized it was a person. And a woman, at that. It still baffled Larando the magic that restrains these zombies so. They didn't seem to mind her moving in at all. He had seen a few people come and go, but this was the first to see her here.

She quickly spotted him. A grin crossed his face as she began to cast diminsion door and stepping out onto the ledge in much the same manner as he had. It wasn't long until she had given enough information for him to label her Samantha. More fortune than I could ever have hoped for! He almost blurted the thought aloud. Larando made to be as respectful as he could and explained himself and his ambitions. The stunning mage seemed very welcoming to Larando and his ideals. Something he didn't expect.

Soon enough, she was speaking of some great power she had and needed to experiment on someone. It was quickly obvious that someone would need to die for this to happen. Larando quickly volunteered to help find a "test subject" as he was afraid of becoming the victim himself.

Larando actually found a joy that he'd not felt in a long time. He was pleased with his new acquaintance, and hoped, to himself, that she might take him on as a pupil.