The search for the tomb of Maledictus

[Bishoph]

Bishoph rides towards the town of Brill on his Shadow Raven. He has been flying for an eternity it seems. Nodding in and out of consciousness he is awakened from the cowls of his bird. The wind whips through his frail body. The air grows colder..there is always a unnerving chill in the Tirisfal Glades. The cypress trees of the region welcome him home. The cursed sky of the Forsaken, always weaving its green hue around the forest. The clouds swirling in a ravaging chaos...the rain falling violently across the land. Each drop of rain stings Bishoph's skin as if it were on fire. This does not phase him however, he must follow the Mandate's command. The Mandate's Will has spoken through the High inquisitor, and now Bishoph rides to Brill to claim what is now rightfully his. The Tabard of Maledictus. Luckily before departing for Brill, he took some time to research the one who the old grim called Maledictus, not much is really spoke of in lore other than the fact that his presence was indifferent to those that remember. Bishoph did acquire information through his findings that he was a Necromancer who's magical capabilities were very similar to that of Bishoph, as well as this Maledictus being Forsaken...

He gains closer to the town of Brill, as if it were frozen in time. The buildings still a ways off, he hears the all to familiar toll of the Brill bells. The rain stops as he approaches, eerily pouring everywhere else outside the walls. The fog weighs heavily around the buildings, barely seeing the tops of the roofs. His bird glides down towards the stable as the fog lofts around them, consuming all visual space. At a moment's notice, the ground appears as the bird touches down.

"Tis' a dreadful day, welcome to Brill." the stable keeper states as he takes the reigns from Bishoph's hands and holds it steady as he dismounts. "Dreadful indeed." Bishoph says, flipping the stable keeper a gold coin. Bishoph walks slowly away from the stable and stretches his tired aching joints, each one cracking and popping. He breathes out a sigh of relief then looks around the town. The normal hustle and bustle seems to be about in the cobblestone streets of the small town. He walks towards the graveyard. The gates to the cemetery creaking back and forth as the unsettling wind blows through the town. He pushes through the gate and begins to gaze to the ground at the head stones. "Maledictus, Maledictus..." he says softly to himself as he read the inscription on each headstone. As he walks through the graveyard, the grass comes alive with cockroaches and spiders. He feels them crawling up his feet and legs as he walks. Determined to the point to find this damned grave, he pays the insects no mind.

He searches the entire graveyard to no avail. He walks to the sepulcher and sits down on the bench outside the crypt, seemingly angry. Rightfully so! "Where is this Maledictus at?" He speaks out loud to himself. "Check behind the sepulcher, there is an unmarked grave that I refuse to touch.." says the grounds keeper. "Oh? Why do you say this?" Bishoph says blankly with no expression on his face. "Dark magic, different from our Dark Lady." the grounds keeper says. "The grave itself?" Bishoph replies. "No, the grave is nothing but dirt and maggots...the man inside is not, however. I seen him dig his own grave. Summon some spectral horrors that lulled him to sleep within the ground and covered him up" the grounds keeper implies. "I will be mindful of that, now be on your way and tend to your duties if you know what is best for you." Bishoph retorts. "Dark Lady watch over you, Forsaken." the grounds keeper says then turns, walks away rather quickly. Once out of sight, Bishoph stands from the bench and searches the area.

Noone seems to be in the area, although it still feels as if someone is watching his every move. "Mandate grant me strength." He walks around the crypt to where a patch of dirt, that seems to be unsettled, fresh even. He reaches for a shovel at arms length that is leaning on the sepulcher wall. He strikes the dirt with brute force piercing the ground. The ground gives way to each swing. He digs down about 4 feet under until he hits something hard. "Ahhh." he relieves. He finished digging around the coffin to allow the lid to open freely. It seems decrepit and frail, surprised as to see it still intact and not crushed from the weight of the mound of dirt once on top of it. Bishoph climbs out of the hole and lays down on the ground. The rain begins to pour from the sky. "I have to hurry before I sink in with this damned fool" he thinks to himself. He pries the seal of the coffin with little force with the tip of the shovel. A dank cloud of dust billows out of the coffin into his face, making him choke. Not knowing what to expect upon opening the lid, he braces himself for the stench of a decayed corpse. He slowly lifts up the lid and stares into the coffin in amazement.

"There is no corpse!" Bishoph speaks in amazement. The only thing in the coffin is an old knapsack. He pulls the knapsack and tosses it on top of the ground beside him. He closes the lid and stands up slowly covered in mud, completely drenched from the pouring rain. He takes the shovel and covers up the grave. Once complete he drops the shovel to the ground in exhaustion, leans over to strap the knapsack to his shoulder. He walks over to the sepulcher and sits down in front of the crypt doors, out of the rain. He rakes the mud off the knapsack with his robe. Unties the rope from it and folds the cover back. He looks inside and spots a tabard with the recognizable emblem of the Grim, albeit slightly different than what he recognizes the ones he sees the others wear today. Surprisingly the tabard is untarnished or undamaged. He stretches it out to view it. He was pleased at what he saw. The Mandate was pleased. He stands up and pulls it over his robes. "Finally, all of my hard work has paid off.." He sits back down, now in high spirits despite being in soaked clothes and freezing.

Bishoph looks again through the bag and notices a few items inside. He pulls out a few strange artifacts, three to be exact. Each looked to forged of Ebony Steel. The detail is amazing and easily distinguished that these 3 items are made from the same forger. The first one is a spider like a trophy or some kind of idol. The second looks like a crest or emblem in the shape of a shield, with a portrait of a human family being burned alive. The fire on the crest is a bright red, and the only color on the entire crest. Lastly, the 3rd artifact is a hilt to a blade, once having a blade but broken off somehow as it is sliced clean at the hilt. On the hilt it has a dark red skull on the cross guard. The grip wrapped tight in hardened bound leather. The pommel of the blade worn and scraped with deep scratches through the base. He looks at each piece carefully and then sets them aside.

Bishoph then searches throughout the rest of the pack to find a tightly bound ledger stuck to the bottom of the sack. He pulls sightly to attempt to free it from the knapsack, freeing it after a tug. Taking it out of the bag he looks at it carefully. "It looks as if the cover is made of....skin..." The cover heavily worn, blackened and hard. The binding made up of Netherweave twine. He opens the book and flips through the pages briefly scanning as he recognizes the words are written in Gutterspeak. He goes back to the first page and reads the book page by page. The words don't hardly make any sense to him whatsoever. "This man is mad!" He says softly to himself. Puzzled by his findings, he closes the ledger and puts it back inside the knapsack along with the artifacts. He gets up slowly and walks back towards the stables. The rain has driven most of the patrons indoors, which is a good thing since Bishoph is clearly filthy. He hobbles over to the stables, where the stable keeper has nodded off to sleep. He sneaks by him silently to remain undetected, unlatches the reigns of his Shadow Raven, climbs on the saddle and instructs the bird to slowly walk. Through the edge of the stable, and down the road of Brill, Bishoph collapses on the bird in exhaustion from this whole ordeal. Once outside the gate and out of view of any onlookers, the bird takes flight North, soaring high into the sky. "Khorvis should be made aware of this." Bishoph says as he barely hangs on to the reigns and then falls unconscious. The Shadow Raven circles around Brill and then flies south once again.

[Khorvis]

[[ Nice writing, Bishoph. Most enjoyable. Tagged for Penumbra. ]]

[Pincus]

(( Tagging this as well - the two who are actually still around who may "know" what's really going on are Grainger and Pincus (plus 7 others if you can ever find them - none of the others ever come around these parts anymore) ))