Yaser Grubbo watched them from the shadows, those three pale skin invaders. With all their shiny pokers and crackling magics they had fought their way deep into Yaser’s home. The stout one had sliced through Orgimer the foul, the slim one had burned the face off of the fire spitting serpent in the upper chambers and the tall one had kept them all from getting skewered on the traps.
The memory of Orgimer looking down in disbelief at his sudden lack of an arm filled Yaser with a particular delight. It was he who had driven Yaser down in the depths all those many years ago. Down here with the whispering shadows and their promises.
Promises that Yaser planned on collecting on very soon. The slender human had a small bottle that glowed with an intense swirl of green and white light to Yaser’s eyes. He just had to bide his time, wait and watch until they were distracted. With the stout one making so much noise, it wouldn’t be long.
The three stood on the edge of a large stone, brick chamber, the stairway at their backs and small globe of light illuminating them perfectly but rendering the chamber’s pillars and walls in shifting shadows.
“We’re close now. I can feel it. I Barnaby Norhald swear it.” The stout one stomped forward, his body mostly hidden by a shield as tall as he was, a rune etched hammer held in his free hand.
“I assume that means we’ve now reached the undead portion of our program?” The tall one sighed, rooting around in the quiver on her hip and pulling out a silver arrow that glowed with a warm, soft light that gave Yaser the shivers.
“Hold on burning up that arrow, Cinder, we only got one, lets save for it whatever’s guarding the burial room.” Said the slender one with the big book and the shiny potion strapped to her waist.
“The next room could be the burial room.” Cinder whispered but put the arrow back, instead knocking an arrow that glowed less intensely. All of them carried enchanted weapons. They were powerful. They had to be to make it this far. Perhaps one of them would prove worthy.
Yaser slipped back down the hallways as the invaders, the flickering lights in the eye sockets of skeletons scattered paid him no attention. At the grand intersection, he nimbly stepped over and weaved under the many nigh invisible silk strands that would alert the eight legged horror to prey. The shadows gibbered in the back of Yaser’s mind as he pressed on a discolored brick in the wall. The loudest being the shade of the once important pale skin that lay in the sarcophagus further on. It was a mean, demanding thing, as Orgimer was. Its screeching fell away as the wall swung open, pushed away by another whisper with a gentle pulse of power. Just as cold and dead as the others but this one had a nobility to it, velvet over a clawed, bone hand.
“My lady.” Yaser said with relief as he hurried through the hidden doorway and it closed behind him. “Invaders are here and they have what you need. I must prepare you.”
Points of light glowed to life, revealing an octagonal room that had once been a study. In that moment, between light and dark, something huge shifted and stretched before disappearing entirely. Mold ruined books lined the collapsing bookcases. A huge desk along with a throne-like chair dominated the center of the room. Behind it loomed the preserved heads of beasts from the nightmares of the daylit world above. A long face with a spiraling horn. A beaked thing with cruel teeth, a red skinned thing with tusks and curling horns and a human head wearing a golden hat. All these things had their own whispers but the lady drowned them out, same as she pushed out all the others that nattered away in the old halls.
“Hurry, hurry, hurry.” Yaser muttered to himself as he whipped a short rod from his tattered cloak and pointed it a clear spot on the floor. A blue beam shot out and illuminated a tile. With a careful movement of Yaser’s wrist, it lifted into the air, revealing a dark hallow below. From this Yaser gathered a bundle wrapped in a pure white cloth. The lights pulsed.
“With your help, they will. Yaser is sure of it. Do not worry. Yaser will follow. Yaser will keep you safe.” The goblin whispered to the bundle as he reverentially carried it over the desk. “Even in the burning day. Yaser swear it.”
The lights flickered once more. Yaser nodded and unwrapped the bundle, unfolding a luxurious fur cloak, its black dusted with swirling stars. He passed his hand over it reverently, inhaled to gather his courage, then picked it up and carried it to the display wall. Using a cobbled together ladder, he hung it between the heads. Its soft light was completely unlike any other Yaser had ever experienced. Warm like daylight but did not burn his eyes. It did not belong here among the dead.
Yaser’s ears caught the muffled report of steel and the clatter of bones. The right time approached. He bowed deeply to the cloak, now restored to the place of honor he had found her in.
“Yaser will return.” With that, he reached into the shadows and stepped into them.