Post by Maerin on Apr 1, 2008 15:51:42 GMT -5
So I ran across the notes that I used to begin crafting Maerin's story, and decided to repost them here. I did not keep track of who wrote what in this fragment, but it is generally obvious from the point of view.
There is some reference to the more current events in the past few years of story development (most of this content dates from 2005 to 2006). It includes the fall of the Halls of Learning in Varetta and some of the initial changes carved into Lyris, but also contains content relevant to the Blood Plague. Maerin gave the Blood Plague plot a pan (in Chapter 16) when he learned about it more recently in Gleesh, figuring that it was not a threat after the few years that have past since the Sage Master Patrick was investigating it after the fall of the Halls of Learning in Varetta. So far as I am aware, that is how the plague plot has been left in West Watch.
_______________________
The Sage Plots
Outside Varetta
Patrick sighed with relief, having caught sight of the city of Varetta. He took a step forward, then noticed something on the ground. "A feather?" He flinched as he saw that there was still something attached to the end of the feather.
"This is from...a Lyran Messenger Falcon. But this can't be." To the best of his knowledge, Messenger Hawks were trained from hatching to avoid situations like this one.
Being made into lunch made it hard to transport messages after all.
"Brother Dynas did say that Varetta had been cut off." He glanced around, unshouldering his crossbow and readying a bolt. Whatever had managed to get the bird had to be quick, and fairly good at leaping...
Varetta had not changed much physically since he had last seen it. There was, however, an air of...fear? Something was wrong, Patrick could feel it as he retraced his steps to the familiar sight of the Library, where his journey had started.
As he walked, he heard shouting. Curious, he wandered over.
"And who," the speaker, standing atop an overturned crate, "is to blame for these latest rounds of fearmongering? We cower and watch over our shoulders, while the nobility of this town grow fat off the fees we are forced to pay to the mercenaries that tromp through the streets! You all know what happened to Beren and Loretta! Burned out of their home when they refused to pay protection!"
Patrick leaned over to one listener. "Who's he?"
"You don't know? He is Baron Drakhelm, friend of the people."
"Really?" Patrick wondered if his sarcastic tone was lost on the person he was speaking to.
"Yes, really!" Evidently, it was. "He was thought to be a nobody, the illegitimate son of one of the local nobles, but he's really come out against the new laws that the local lords have handed down. And the king is locked away in his castle, isolated from his people."
"Such as?"
"Newcomers have to have their blood drawn, mercenaries are wandering around, looking for suspicious activity, even the Sages are feeling the pinch. All because word got out that undetectable helghasts are wandering around, hundreds of them!"
"You there!" A hand clamped down. "Blood sample. This won't hurt. Much."
Abruptly, Patrick pulled back, hand already going to the hilt of his rapier. "You are welcome to a sample of my blood. But you'll have to work for it."
"See! See how the thugs oppress one of the learned people of Lyris! People, will we stand for this much longer?"
"Shaddup you slimebag! You think you can yeURK!" the lead mercenary found it hard to speak, what with the point of Patrick's rapier only a millimeter away from his throat. With his free hand, Patrick drew his poignard, made the smallest nick in the flesh of his sword arm, and flicked the small spot of red on the face of the thug.
"That enough?" Slowly, faced by the Sage, and a growing army of commoners heartened by his defiance and the Baron's words, the mercenary nodded, and waved his men off.
"Masterfuly played, Sage!" Drakhelm strides over, applauding. "Come, let me guide you to the Library, where your bretheren await words. We have been cut off from the outside world for far too long."
Patrick allowed himself to be led away by the Baron, somewhat suspicious.
Varetta
After a half hour of inane chatter, Patrick finally managed to detach himself from his unwanted escort. "Perhaps we shall talk later, Baron. Good day."
"Of course, friend Sage! Please, feel free to visit my estate at any time! All sages are welcome there!"
"Thank you. You are too kind."
Inside the Grand Library, Patrick met up with the younger sages who had stayed behind. "Sage Patrick! I see that you have returned. But what of Remoire?"
"We were seperated. Has he not returned?"
"We have not heard. And with all of the higher level Sages out, we have little means of divining his fate."
Patrick nodded. "So, what is going on in Varetta?"
"You have no doubt seen by now. Fears of Helghast have whipped the people into a frenzy. Mercenaries roam the street. Oh, and we've had one aggrieved chap asking after you. Seems you humiliated him a touch."
"He deserved it." Patrick replied evenly. "Alright, I've seen what the rest of Varetta's doing. What are -we- doing?"
"Come. And tell me all you can about Drakhelm, if you can."
Drakhelm estate
"One of them has returned. We'll have to be more careful, he's a higher level one."
"Only for a short while longer. Only a little longer."
Grand Library
"And those are the measures we have taken. If worse comes to worse, we will save what we can."
"It's that bad?"
The younger sage nodded to Patrick. "The people are almost ready to rise up. And you know what an uncontrolled mob could do to Varetta. And Drakhelm..."
"He is a skilled orator. I could see him guiding a mob easily. Is he...?"
"We've checked; he's not a Helghast. But...sometimes, I get the feeling that he's hiding something that could destroy us all."
Patrick shrugged. "He's a nobleman, for whatever else he claims. Secrets are like air to them," he said with a small grin. "How are the supplies?"
"We were just getting there. Corin had the idea, from a scroll he was translating a few months back..."
The tour continued, Patrick becoming a little unnerved by the preparations being taken in the Library, now as much a fortress as a place of learning...
Varetta
After a several-hours long tour, Patrick slumped down. He, as well as one of the other sages, was in one of the many meeting rooms of the Grand Library. "So, Master Patrick?"
"Don't call me master," Patrick said automatically. "I'm sorry?"
"Our preparations?"
"Ah. I have to admit, I'm impressed. And you say Corin was the one who thought up the plan?" the other sage gave a quiet affirmation. "Tyrenis chose all of you well. I feel almost useless."
"Hardly. Now, about this plague you mentioned before."
Patrick nodded. "Yes. I should have gone with Remoire. Still no word?"
"No."
Patrick sighed. "Alright. And with no idea what's killing our messenger birds, we've no way to get word out. I would like to get word to Bautar or Chaman if possible. We should get the Herbalish in on this too. Could we hire some guards to escort a team and a messenger falcon past the gates?"
"We've thought about it. However, we're not to sure of the mecenaries in town now. So far, Drakhelm has them all wound up, ostensibly with the duty of protecting the people. I don't think we have enough resources to lure enough guards away to our cause." Patrick arched an eyebrow at the phrasing, but said nothing. "And...I don't think this is some random beast. I think we have a more...unnatural predator lurking about."
"Lovely."
Another sage came running in. "We have a problem..."
Varetta
It didn’t look it, but the city of Varetta was rapidly falling apart.
It had started with the body of a local shopkeep, pieces of him found all over his shop. A day later, more violence, this time a beggar that several of the Sages knew was beaten to death.
The week that passed had seen continuously escalating levels of violence, most of the twisted acts directed at the common folk. A few of the local aristocracy had also perished, but these were at the hands of vengeful citizens, which only muddied the waters.
Several of the victims had been brought to the Grand Library, where the more medically-minded Sages looked over the bodies, whispering minor cantrips and applying some unusual device or technique.
Patrick left one room that held what could only politely be called a corpse. “It makes no sense. This poor soul looks like he could have been beaten with the side of a castle, while the one two doors down was burned alive from fires that consumed nothing of the area around him. It screams magic but there isn’t the…feeling of the kind of sorceries that are used by the servants of Naar.”
“Perhaps…a renegade magician? There is no reason to believe that Vonotar was unique among the brotherhood,” another Sage suggested.
“Perhaps…” Patrick looked down the hall. It pained him to admit it, but these murders were not the real problem.
Baron Drakhelm. As the murders went on, his rhetoric against the ‘overlords whose attack dogs were responsible for these crimes’ were only making things worse. All it would take would be one simple word from Drakhelm. Worse, the good baron had been all but impossible to catch, seeming to be in multiple places at once. Patrick glanced at the other sages, who had held similar thoughts.
“Let’s go.”
--
“It’s almost time.”
“Good. I sense those fools will soon make their move. Are our forces ready?”
“Yes. They only await your…forgive me, my word.”
“Yes, my dear Baron. Soon, this city shall be ours.”
The man of death looked at the other husk of a former man, and grinned. "The city, my lord, is yours."
"And nicely taken, 'Baron' Drakhelm. I must say," the revenant added, "I like the view. Please, tell me all about it."
--a week prior
Almost as soon as Patrick had resolved to help in the search for the missing Baron, word came quickly from the streets. The Baron had been found. Or, at least, what was thought to be the baron.
Spitted on the end of a sage's rapier was a skeleton, only vaguely human and covered in pieces of dried sinew and blackened skin. The unmistakeable remains of an undead beast. But had he really been masquerading as the Baron?
A search turned up the rest of the Baron's kin. All dead, slaughtered in a manner similar to the carnage happening almost daily on the street. Horror rippled through the commoners, already unnerved by the wave of deaths. Even the aristocratic minority, despite their own misgivings about the Baron's populist ideals, were already properly outraged by this latest killings.
A day after this, the rumours started.
Some said that the darklords had returned, and were ready to exact their revenge. Others argued that the Baron was really an agent, sent to stir up trouble in Lyris by pushing for a civil war. What troubled the Sages was that none of them had been there when the Baron's remains had been found. The only thing linking them was the presence of a rapier.
--3 days prior
Patrick ran down the alleyway towards the metallic ringing of a swordfight. Already he could pick out the swishing noise of a rapier, and it's continual tinging noise as it struck and scraped against something metallic. Edged rapier he guessed. But what fool would start a duel now of all times?
As he cleared the alley, he skidded to a halt. It was Rannor, a newly recruited page in the Great Library. And his blade was desperately trying to find a way to pierce the armoured might of one of the guardsmen that had come to aid in Varetta's defense. In slow motion, Patrick watched as the guardsman's blade snapped the rapier in two, then cut into the young man's body, easily a mortal wound.
"You see?" the guard shouted. "The Sages have been compromised!" As he spoke, the blade swung again, and Rannor's head left his body, both crumbling to ash. "There. Even twisted magics are no avail against honest steel. Return to your homes, and prepare for action! There is much purging to be done!"
Patrick ducked back into the alley, his ears picking out the sounds of the crowd.
--2 days ago
"We are agreed, then?" the sages around the table nodded. "I wish there was some other way, but we seem to be lacking in options. Is it as bad as we've all heard out there?"
One of the older sages nodded. "There are rumblings, and a few of our more proactive bretheren have been rounded up. So far, it's been for 'their protection', or so they've been told.
"But, it is as we've feared. With Baron Drakhelm's true nature as an undead being revealed, every association and speech he has made has come under scrutiny. And that imposter of Rannor has had the rumours flying. Some say that the prior master has been murdered, and that you are really a bloodthirsty Helghast come to steal everyone's soul, Master Patrick." A few dry chuckles rippled around the table, which were cut off when the halls resounded with a loud, booming thud.
"It's begun. Well, let's get it overwith. Rollin, Deryis, Casthill, get everyone down below. The rest of you...suit up. We're about to put on our best show for the populace."
--
"Sages of Lyris!" the small man cried. "For the peace of all Varetta, we ask that you open your doors and allow our men inside the Library for an inspection. it has come to our attention that beings of a foul and darke nature have infiltrated your illustrious order. We wish no ill of you, but merely wish to assure ourselves and the good citizens of Varetta that they would find safety should some calamity befall this place."
From behind the door, Patrick glanced at one of the sages. "I know of the speaker," one sage replied. "A snivelling mealymouthed servant of Jervis, the banker."
"There is a large force with him. All armed." another sage reported, glancing through a spyhole. "And all as we expected them to be." this last after a moment of concentration.
"Sages? What is your answer? Will not your master answer our entreaties?"
Patrick nodded. The large bolts were slid back, and the door swung open. "Master Tyrenis is not in at the moment. May I take a message?" He was shoved aside as the soldiers marched in.
-
Patrick and the remaining sages followed the soldiers as they trekked through the now empty halls, scowling at the empty bookshelves and barren cloisters, not even a student scribbling notes present at this late hour. "Where is everyone?"
"Field trip. Now why don't we get to the real reason behind this...invasion?" Patrick glared at the speaker, slowly backing away.
The speaker grinned. "We were sent to find undead monsters in the Great Library and destroy them. Such a pity-" there were strangled gasps and tortured shrieks as the speaker, and all the soldiers suddenly seemed to age a century in a second, hair and skin drying and evaporating, leaving a large undead army facing the outnumbered sages. "This place is ours, and your order is finished, scribblers of Lyris. While you pondered and wondered, we have placed an entire army of undead into this city."
"We know." Patrick replied cheerfully, raising an arm. Suddenly, he was whisked upwards, hand gripped onto a small lariat and pulley system. He came down on a balcony, the other sages beside him. "That trick with the impostor sage was a good one, but it tipped your hand. We've been expecting you to try something like this for the last few days now. Just one question...why?"
"Why else? We sieze this city, and the rest of Lyris will fall into line. Everyone knows that Varetta is the place where the rest of this misbegotten state takes its lead from!"
Patrick stared back, and laughed in the wight's face. "That would get you keel-hauled in Karkaste. But, you've come all this way, I suppose we should let you get on with it." The wight screamed an ear-piercing note, and the other undead raised weapons. "Now!" Patrick cried.
There is some reference to the more current events in the past few years of story development (most of this content dates from 2005 to 2006). It includes the fall of the Halls of Learning in Varetta and some of the initial changes carved into Lyris, but also contains content relevant to the Blood Plague. Maerin gave the Blood Plague plot a pan (in Chapter 16) when he learned about it more recently in Gleesh, figuring that it was not a threat after the few years that have past since the Sage Master Patrick was investigating it after the fall of the Halls of Learning in Varetta. So far as I am aware, that is how the plague plot has been left in West Watch.
_______________________
The Sage Plots
Outside Varetta
Patrick sighed with relief, having caught sight of the city of Varetta. He took a step forward, then noticed something on the ground. "A feather?" He flinched as he saw that there was still something attached to the end of the feather.
"This is from...a Lyran Messenger Falcon. But this can't be." To the best of his knowledge, Messenger Hawks were trained from hatching to avoid situations like this one.
Being made into lunch made it hard to transport messages after all.
"Brother Dynas did say that Varetta had been cut off." He glanced around, unshouldering his crossbow and readying a bolt. Whatever had managed to get the bird had to be quick, and fairly good at leaping...
Varetta had not changed much physically since he had last seen it. There was, however, an air of...fear? Something was wrong, Patrick could feel it as he retraced his steps to the familiar sight of the Library, where his journey had started.
As he walked, he heard shouting. Curious, he wandered over.
"And who," the speaker, standing atop an overturned crate, "is to blame for these latest rounds of fearmongering? We cower and watch over our shoulders, while the nobility of this town grow fat off the fees we are forced to pay to the mercenaries that tromp through the streets! You all know what happened to Beren and Loretta! Burned out of their home when they refused to pay protection!"
Patrick leaned over to one listener. "Who's he?"
"You don't know? He is Baron Drakhelm, friend of the people."
"Really?" Patrick wondered if his sarcastic tone was lost on the person he was speaking to.
"Yes, really!" Evidently, it was. "He was thought to be a nobody, the illegitimate son of one of the local nobles, but he's really come out against the new laws that the local lords have handed down. And the king is locked away in his castle, isolated from his people."
"Such as?"
"Newcomers have to have their blood drawn, mercenaries are wandering around, looking for suspicious activity, even the Sages are feeling the pinch. All because word got out that undetectable helghasts are wandering around, hundreds of them!"
"You there!" A hand clamped down. "Blood sample. This won't hurt. Much."
Abruptly, Patrick pulled back, hand already going to the hilt of his rapier. "You are welcome to a sample of my blood. But you'll have to work for it."
"See! See how the thugs oppress one of the learned people of Lyris! People, will we stand for this much longer?"
"Shaddup you slimebag! You think you can yeURK!" the lead mercenary found it hard to speak, what with the point of Patrick's rapier only a millimeter away from his throat. With his free hand, Patrick drew his poignard, made the smallest nick in the flesh of his sword arm, and flicked the small spot of red on the face of the thug.
"That enough?" Slowly, faced by the Sage, and a growing army of commoners heartened by his defiance and the Baron's words, the mercenary nodded, and waved his men off.
"Masterfuly played, Sage!" Drakhelm strides over, applauding. "Come, let me guide you to the Library, where your bretheren await words. We have been cut off from the outside world for far too long."
Patrick allowed himself to be led away by the Baron, somewhat suspicious.
Varetta
After a half hour of inane chatter, Patrick finally managed to detach himself from his unwanted escort. "Perhaps we shall talk later, Baron. Good day."
"Of course, friend Sage! Please, feel free to visit my estate at any time! All sages are welcome there!"
"Thank you. You are too kind."
Inside the Grand Library, Patrick met up with the younger sages who had stayed behind. "Sage Patrick! I see that you have returned. But what of Remoire?"
"We were seperated. Has he not returned?"
"We have not heard. And with all of the higher level Sages out, we have little means of divining his fate."
Patrick nodded. "So, what is going on in Varetta?"
"You have no doubt seen by now. Fears of Helghast have whipped the people into a frenzy. Mercenaries roam the street. Oh, and we've had one aggrieved chap asking after you. Seems you humiliated him a touch."
"He deserved it." Patrick replied evenly. "Alright, I've seen what the rest of Varetta's doing. What are -we- doing?"
"Come. And tell me all you can about Drakhelm, if you can."
Drakhelm estate
"One of them has returned. We'll have to be more careful, he's a higher level one."
"Only for a short while longer. Only a little longer."
Grand Library
"And those are the measures we have taken. If worse comes to worse, we will save what we can."
"It's that bad?"
The younger sage nodded to Patrick. "The people are almost ready to rise up. And you know what an uncontrolled mob could do to Varetta. And Drakhelm..."
"He is a skilled orator. I could see him guiding a mob easily. Is he...?"
"We've checked; he's not a Helghast. But...sometimes, I get the feeling that he's hiding something that could destroy us all."
Patrick shrugged. "He's a nobleman, for whatever else he claims. Secrets are like air to them," he said with a small grin. "How are the supplies?"
"We were just getting there. Corin had the idea, from a scroll he was translating a few months back..."
The tour continued, Patrick becoming a little unnerved by the preparations being taken in the Library, now as much a fortress as a place of learning...
Varetta
After a several-hours long tour, Patrick slumped down. He, as well as one of the other sages, was in one of the many meeting rooms of the Grand Library. "So, Master Patrick?"
"Don't call me master," Patrick said automatically. "I'm sorry?"
"Our preparations?"
"Ah. I have to admit, I'm impressed. And you say Corin was the one who thought up the plan?" the other sage gave a quiet affirmation. "Tyrenis chose all of you well. I feel almost useless."
"Hardly. Now, about this plague you mentioned before."
Patrick nodded. "Yes. I should have gone with Remoire. Still no word?"
"No."
Patrick sighed. "Alright. And with no idea what's killing our messenger birds, we've no way to get word out. I would like to get word to Bautar or Chaman if possible. We should get the Herbalish in on this too. Could we hire some guards to escort a team and a messenger falcon past the gates?"
"We've thought about it. However, we're not to sure of the mecenaries in town now. So far, Drakhelm has them all wound up, ostensibly with the duty of protecting the people. I don't think we have enough resources to lure enough guards away to our cause." Patrick arched an eyebrow at the phrasing, but said nothing. "And...I don't think this is some random beast. I think we have a more...unnatural predator lurking about."
"Lovely."
Another sage came running in. "We have a problem..."
Varetta
It didn’t look it, but the city of Varetta was rapidly falling apart.
It had started with the body of a local shopkeep, pieces of him found all over his shop. A day later, more violence, this time a beggar that several of the Sages knew was beaten to death.
The week that passed had seen continuously escalating levels of violence, most of the twisted acts directed at the common folk. A few of the local aristocracy had also perished, but these were at the hands of vengeful citizens, which only muddied the waters.
Several of the victims had been brought to the Grand Library, where the more medically-minded Sages looked over the bodies, whispering minor cantrips and applying some unusual device or technique.
Patrick left one room that held what could only politely be called a corpse. “It makes no sense. This poor soul looks like he could have been beaten with the side of a castle, while the one two doors down was burned alive from fires that consumed nothing of the area around him. It screams magic but there isn’t the…feeling of the kind of sorceries that are used by the servants of Naar.”
“Perhaps…a renegade magician? There is no reason to believe that Vonotar was unique among the brotherhood,” another Sage suggested.
“Perhaps…” Patrick looked down the hall. It pained him to admit it, but these murders were not the real problem.
Baron Drakhelm. As the murders went on, his rhetoric against the ‘overlords whose attack dogs were responsible for these crimes’ were only making things worse. All it would take would be one simple word from Drakhelm. Worse, the good baron had been all but impossible to catch, seeming to be in multiple places at once. Patrick glanced at the other sages, who had held similar thoughts.
“Let’s go.”
--
“It’s almost time.”
“Good. I sense those fools will soon make their move. Are our forces ready?”
“Yes. They only await your…forgive me, my word.”
“Yes, my dear Baron. Soon, this city shall be ours.”
The man of death looked at the other husk of a former man, and grinned. "The city, my lord, is yours."
"And nicely taken, 'Baron' Drakhelm. I must say," the revenant added, "I like the view. Please, tell me all about it."
--a week prior
Almost as soon as Patrick had resolved to help in the search for the missing Baron, word came quickly from the streets. The Baron had been found. Or, at least, what was thought to be the baron.
Spitted on the end of a sage's rapier was a skeleton, only vaguely human and covered in pieces of dried sinew and blackened skin. The unmistakeable remains of an undead beast. But had he really been masquerading as the Baron?
A search turned up the rest of the Baron's kin. All dead, slaughtered in a manner similar to the carnage happening almost daily on the street. Horror rippled through the commoners, already unnerved by the wave of deaths. Even the aristocratic minority, despite their own misgivings about the Baron's populist ideals, were already properly outraged by this latest killings.
A day after this, the rumours started.
Some said that the darklords had returned, and were ready to exact their revenge. Others argued that the Baron was really an agent, sent to stir up trouble in Lyris by pushing for a civil war. What troubled the Sages was that none of them had been there when the Baron's remains had been found. The only thing linking them was the presence of a rapier.
--3 days prior
Patrick ran down the alleyway towards the metallic ringing of a swordfight. Already he could pick out the swishing noise of a rapier, and it's continual tinging noise as it struck and scraped against something metallic. Edged rapier he guessed. But what fool would start a duel now of all times?
As he cleared the alley, he skidded to a halt. It was Rannor, a newly recruited page in the Great Library. And his blade was desperately trying to find a way to pierce the armoured might of one of the guardsmen that had come to aid in Varetta's defense. In slow motion, Patrick watched as the guardsman's blade snapped the rapier in two, then cut into the young man's body, easily a mortal wound.
"You see?" the guard shouted. "The Sages have been compromised!" As he spoke, the blade swung again, and Rannor's head left his body, both crumbling to ash. "There. Even twisted magics are no avail against honest steel. Return to your homes, and prepare for action! There is much purging to be done!"
Patrick ducked back into the alley, his ears picking out the sounds of the crowd.
--2 days ago
"We are agreed, then?" the sages around the table nodded. "I wish there was some other way, but we seem to be lacking in options. Is it as bad as we've all heard out there?"
One of the older sages nodded. "There are rumblings, and a few of our more proactive bretheren have been rounded up. So far, it's been for 'their protection', or so they've been told.
"But, it is as we've feared. With Baron Drakhelm's true nature as an undead being revealed, every association and speech he has made has come under scrutiny. And that imposter of Rannor has had the rumours flying. Some say that the prior master has been murdered, and that you are really a bloodthirsty Helghast come to steal everyone's soul, Master Patrick." A few dry chuckles rippled around the table, which were cut off when the halls resounded with a loud, booming thud.
"It's begun. Well, let's get it overwith. Rollin, Deryis, Casthill, get everyone down below. The rest of you...suit up. We're about to put on our best show for the populace."
--
"Sages of Lyris!" the small man cried. "For the peace of all Varetta, we ask that you open your doors and allow our men inside the Library for an inspection. it has come to our attention that beings of a foul and darke nature have infiltrated your illustrious order. We wish no ill of you, but merely wish to assure ourselves and the good citizens of Varetta that they would find safety should some calamity befall this place."
From behind the door, Patrick glanced at one of the sages. "I know of the speaker," one sage replied. "A snivelling mealymouthed servant of Jervis, the banker."
"There is a large force with him. All armed." another sage reported, glancing through a spyhole. "And all as we expected them to be." this last after a moment of concentration.
"Sages? What is your answer? Will not your master answer our entreaties?"
Patrick nodded. The large bolts were slid back, and the door swung open. "Master Tyrenis is not in at the moment. May I take a message?" He was shoved aside as the soldiers marched in.
-
Patrick and the remaining sages followed the soldiers as they trekked through the now empty halls, scowling at the empty bookshelves and barren cloisters, not even a student scribbling notes present at this late hour. "Where is everyone?"
"Field trip. Now why don't we get to the real reason behind this...invasion?" Patrick glared at the speaker, slowly backing away.
The speaker grinned. "We were sent to find undead monsters in the Great Library and destroy them. Such a pity-" there were strangled gasps and tortured shrieks as the speaker, and all the soldiers suddenly seemed to age a century in a second, hair and skin drying and evaporating, leaving a large undead army facing the outnumbered sages. "This place is ours, and your order is finished, scribblers of Lyris. While you pondered and wondered, we have placed an entire army of undead into this city."
"We know." Patrick replied cheerfully, raising an arm. Suddenly, he was whisked upwards, hand gripped onto a small lariat and pulley system. He came down on a balcony, the other sages beside him. "That trick with the impostor sage was a good one, but it tipped your hand. We've been expecting you to try something like this for the last few days now. Just one question...why?"
"Why else? We sieze this city, and the rest of Lyris will fall into line. Everyone knows that Varetta is the place where the rest of this misbegotten state takes its lead from!"
Patrick stared back, and laughed in the wight's face. "That would get you keel-hauled in Karkaste. But, you've come all this way, I suppose we should let you get on with it." The wight screamed an ear-piercing note, and the other undead raised weapons. "Now!" Patrick cried.