Woken up from their much needed rest in the middle of the morning, the party is ushered into the meeting room by Shando.

‘zah ees goot reasahn for ziz yah?’ mumbles Guy as they enter the room to see Cerian, Rhombur and Jesse’s father seated around the table listening intently as Frank and Cierra share their findings. Cerian motioned for them to take seats as Frank continues.

‘Herumph, as I was saying, it is much worst then we expected… these aren’t just a bunch of petty thieves, even calling them a guild is an understatement. They are nothing less then a cult!’

‘Now, Stubs, let’s not jump to conclusions… would you mind starting again for the newcomers?’

‘Fine, but heed my words Rian, this doesn’t bode well at all. At the beginning again then, tracking the old shrew’s scent, we found ourselves at this reputed lab…’

Jesse’s father coughs, clearly uncomfortable at the less then respectful reference to his wife.

‘Waiting till nightfall, we managed to capture two guards and… extract some information’

‘In a most tasteless way, to say the least.’ mentions Cierra, shaking her head.

‘Was it my fault they didn’t take kindly to the honey? Anyway, they tell of an operation to retrieve all the sentient weapons of Corrin for the purpose of resurrecting the Time of High Magic! Could you believe it! Actually wanting to bring the world back to chaos. Either way, this would explain some shady attacks on my person to retrieve Rhys.’

‘Aye! The brutes!’ chimes a new voice, coming from Frank’s belt.

‘Oh got! Heez wee wee can talk!’

‘Good lord, Guy that’s his butter knife, now put a sock in it before I use a blade instead. Lump of xfphhd dffpx…’

‘Dagger!’ Rhys cries indignantly.

‘Letter Opener, whatever, get on with the story Frank,’ Crummy shoots back.

‘Herumph, they talked about a main facility, where the weapons are sent for study and exploitation. They were a resistant bunch, I’ll give ‘em that.’

‘This is where he pulls out the salmon,’ Cierra interrupts, as Frank grins, scratching under his left horn. She continues the story, ‘after the following scene… which I refuse to recount, they cracked and revealed the location to be in Richese – near the Moritani border. That is where Lady Willowbrook and son are currently residing. The security there is beyond us, we’ll need some help getting in, and this is discounting some of the creatures they mentioned… other then the main garrison they spoke of mephits, gargoyles, wargs and eye stalkers, well, the list goes on.’

‘Amazing what some salmon can make men do huh?’

‘They also made some mention of undead. Lots of them.’

‘By the lost eye of…’

‘Perhaps I should contact Thor’s Own, that seems to be under our jurisdiction. Not only that, I call Richese home as well, this is my fight.’ Announces Jon as he stands.

‘You will do nothing of the sort,’ Rhombur response icily, arms folded as he stays in his seat. ‘I think it’s time you guys met Old Man Vernius. Return to your rest, and report to me at noon, ready to travel.’

‘Eh, is it possible you can contact Merrick? Or my brother? I think we’ll need all the help we can get.’

‘I’ll see what I can do, can’t promise anything at the moment Richard, Merrick’s mission holds some importance as well. Best you all rest for now.’

The party lumbers back to their room, Guy carrying the obviously catatonic Crum.

-

Suited up for light travel the next day, the party(with the addition of Rhombur and Frank) makes their way to Selbin, a city on the border of Richese. The party notices the discomfort Richard is in at being so close the backwater Fief as they draw closer, something there must really scare the man. Two days of traveling put them in front of the large gate of Selbin, a scene of chaos greets them as carts move in and out of the city in a haphazard fashion. The city serves as a collection point of tribute the various Fiefs, as it has for many years.

After checking into one of the more reputable inns, the Swan’s Requiem, the party enjoys a like lunch of rabbit stew, goose eggs and some bread – a treat from the innkeeper, who apparently has business dealings with Rhombur. After the satisfying meal, the merchant bard leads the party deeper into the crowded streets of Selbin, weaving through the confusing maze of a city.

While negotiating a particularly crowded section, Crum catches a snatch thief in the act of… lightening Richard’s coin pouch.

‘A fast hand should always be commended kiddo, but I’d rather have a slow hand as apposed to –no- hand,’ a grinning Crum lectures the child as he cuffs him on the back of his head and shoves him into an alley, flipping a gold coin at him as he tries to get up.

A good half an hour of navigating the streets, they find themselves in front of a massive library. Pushing the large ironwood doors open, Rhombur beckons the party to enter the darkness within.

‘Boot Guy ees afrahd of ze dahk’

‘Ah bugger,’ Richard swears as he casts light on a rock and tosses it to Guy. ‘Nah.’

‘Ooo, ees shiny!’

‘See the world they said… Be a bard they said…’ mumbles Crum as he enters.

-

‘Hello Abigail, are they in?’

‘Oh yes dear, in the back, it’s been awhile haven’t it?’ replies the old woman behind the reception desk, dimly lit by a crystal.

‘Too long,’ Rhombur replies as he leads the group deeper into the library.

‘Something smells… [sneeze] wrong, very wrong.’

‘Something dead. Since your sinus is acting up.’ Rhys comments from his place on Frank’s belt. Jon tenses and raises his warhammer in caution, causing Rhombur to chuckle at the sight.

Coming up to a table, they find a young man hunched over a book, a skeletal magpie perched on a backrest of the chair also lost in the book. The party assumed the bird to be the cause of Frank’s sinus.

‘Theodore!’

The man jerks up with a frown as his face changes when he recognizes Rhombur.

‘By Hel! Rem!’

The two men embrace, laughing. As they pull away, Rhombur reaches for the signet ring hanging on a chain around Theodore’s neck and kisses it.

‘May Corrin Endure.’

‘If not, Valhalla awaits.’

‘That is an ancient reply…’

‘Yet somehow fitting in times such as these.’

‘I do not doubt you, come allow me to introduce you. People, this is Theodore Corrin, a greater necromancer.’

Richard whistles at the significance of the name.

‘It’s not every day one gets to meet an Imperial Prince… and a master of the dark [sneeze] arts no less.’

‘Bless you.’ A near whisper, sounding like many voices coming from behind the party announces itself.

‘LICH!’ Jon raises his hammer, holy symbol in his other hand, preparing for a running strike. Mid stride he finds himself held in place, a ghostly orange hue outlining him. At this point Rhombur is laughing like a child at the cleric’s folly.

‘Hello master, I see you’ve met our resident cleric?’

‘Heh, not the brightest bunch are they? This is one is nearly as bad as that Rachel girl. I wonder if she knew that it was Hel that gave her the power and life she has now. And you, child, have nothing to worry about. I am a man of Corrin, or corpse of Corrin, if you prefer. I have served the Empire since it’s infancy.’

Richard steps up, ‘So I guess Vernius gets it’s name from you? I mean, being called Old Man Vernius does count for something.’

‘No child, I come from a time long before Corrin’s conquest. But my descendants do me proud in their leadership of my ancestral home. But I doubt you have come here to chat about history, is it not young Richard.’

Richard jolts at the mention of his name.

‘Well then Dragairsson, what brings you back? Forgot how to reanimate hamsters?’

‘No master, there is major undead activity in…’

‘Richese. Yes. The Band of the Red, a faction that is new to me.’ The lich lord sits and signals the rest of them to follow suit. Newly released from the spell, Jon stumbles into a seat, a pout on his face.

‘I have to say Dragairsson, you have quite a class this time. Does Aurelian know that you have Ausranner’s son in your tutorage? Or that halfling’s significance? I digress. Now, about this undead activity, what have you found out? My deadsense can only provide a limited amount of information.’

Rhombur proceeds to explain the situation, assisted by the Minotaur and Cierra.

-

‘Hmm, from what you have told me, I believe this is not true necromancy. I think this scourge is powered by these stolen sentient weapons, which simply means conventional methods would prove useless,’ pointing at Jon. ‘that would mean you shouldn’t bother with turning these undead.’

‘While I cannot provide you with an effective means of combating such undead. I can provide a measure of protection. Theodore? The wormrot and bileroots.’

Theodore nods and returns with a small case, inside eight tubes of a glowing purple liquid sit snugly in a custom made cushion.

‘While the potions will repel them, you must find the source and remove then weapon that powers the undead. The potion will last for about five hours, depending on your metabolism… I would advise the halfing to retain two potions, knowing the rate at which they eat.’

‘You will need firepower to provide a distraction while you infiltrate the facility, I shall instruct Preator Ged Carlyle to join you,’ volunteers Theodore

‘Umm, last we saw of him, he was headed to Vernius, something regarding a bitch sniffing about the Seat of Vernius.’

‘Ah, you've met him. Hahaha, do not worry Richard, the only reason I picked him for this is simply because he is the most upwardly mobile commander Corrin has ever known, and his unit has the diversity for such a mission. The Fifth Irregulars are an able bunch, but if he really is too busy, his protégé Lt. Dragan will take the helm.’

The faces of Guy and Cierra go ashen.

‘Someone from the Fifth will be sent to Venmoore soon. Good luck all.’

‘Yes, good luck young warriors, may Hel delay her call. I hope that I would not require to reanimate you soon.’