Lost in the Mists

A servant's tale, part 4

Of darkness & Death

We many Points of light put the horseman of Tranquility to rest and brought his aggressor, the Mayor, to justice. His daughter handled this poorly and took her life before we had even set out into the Mists again.
We came upon a farmstead on the road. The family laid slaughtered and skinned, betrayed by a stranger they gave shelter and hospitality to.
We next found ourselves in a realm beset by undead, a place called Darkon. It’s king had gone missing in some cataclysmic event that turned everyone in the capital into those very undead that were now assaulting the land.
The king, a lich and the Dark Lord, it turns out, needed our help. Demanded it, in fact. He was blocked from entering his former realm as a new entity had claimed it as it’s Domain, and it called itself Death. The Morning Lord teaches that there is only the one true death when the light fades and our soul passes to its final destination, and everything else is just a falsehood. This was much the same. Azalin, the lich Dark Lord, informed us that upon our entering the Necropolis we would be killed and reborn as abominations. He also informed us that we had no choice if we intended to seek out Strahd, for he would not let us leave his realm otherwise.
We Points all died with nary a whisper, and rose again as ironic forms of our living selves. I myself became a Knight of Death, marshalling and bolster my undead allies with cursed energy and scorching my enemies with the fires of the nine Hells.
It was fantastic.
The power granted unto us, coupled with our already formidable abilities, made us nigh unstoppable. The others immediately jumped at the opportunity to turn back, once we dispatched the false Death. I remained silent, stunned by their weakness. If only we could harness these abilities, think of the good we could do!
Ultimately I agreed to turn back to my new, cold metal form, if only to avoid serving Azalin, for I am well aware that he would have me doing more duplicitous tasks were I indebted to him. But in the ritualistic readings there was mention of turning oneself into a lich, able to go on forever without need to feed upon the innocent like the lesser forms of undead. Surely the Morning Lord guided me to this for a purpose. I must commune with Him further. I’m aware of the potential hubris I skirt, I’ve learned from my past mistakes. Cautions must be taken, lest I find myself seeking power for powers sake.
There’s so much evil in this place. I begin to think I should not leave, even if we get the opportunity. I could live forever here in His grace, moving across the lands with the Vistani, cleansing the dark from the lives of good, innocent people like those poor farmers. My eternal place by The Morning Lord’s side would be a worthy sacrifice for such a cause, would it not?



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