The Knights Of Solaris in Rolehaven, Oct 17, 2010
“The Shadow Nightmares”
Chronicled by Bumsen Schwartzinger
Aboard the warship Avenger, unbeknownst to the others, the Knights of Solaris each stirred from their restful slumber. In their bunks and cabins, from Royal on down to humble Bannerman, each experienced the same astounding nightmare and abruptly awakening from a phantasmagoric inferno raging all around, a thigh-deep muddy exit the only retreat, their gear strangely not where it had been placed.
The routine landing and disembarking at Ravenna Point was somehow unsettling, as each man spoke not of his troubled sleep and went about final preparations for the upcoming maneuvers in Rolehaven, in full steel, bristling with armaments and flying colors. The heart-pounding visions were an ominous portent to the real nightmares awaiting the Knights of Solaris in Rolehaven.
As the march approached town from the shore, they could note well that Rolehaven had a misty black haze gathered round and the fell air put a chill upon the otherwise fair day. The dauntless Solarian Knights had come to perform military maneuvers here, and perform them they would, black haze or no.
Prince Mythrin took to the square stage and addressed the townsfolk in most reassuring manner. He explained the Knights’ purpose and promise to the good people of Rolehaven, and their fears were much allayed.
The Prince, in the spirit of tournament swordplay, asked if Lord Falcor would spar with Azrael, a local fighter of some repute. The two honorable men cheerfully agreed. The two-handed sword bout was hard fought to the first blow, which strong Azrael was eventually able to deliver to Lord Falcor’s shin. Noble Falcor congratulated the quicker winner. Now warmed up from the match and ready to melee, he assembled with the others for the exercise field.
Jaden, the cleric-weaponsmith of Cron had come to town, setting up his Holy Ground and a store for all manner of wares and aid to the traveler or adventurer, Knights of Solaris themselves kindly escorting him to the town square.
This sunny autumn day three new Bannermen of the Realm would be wearing Solarian colors for the first time, and earning their spurs should they acquit themselves well and pass muster. Bowmen squires Fawkes and Dexter, and valiant York the Spearman led the procession to Hammerslay Fields where the Knights of Solaris would conduct their battlefield exercises.
Captain Nestor would drill the squires, putting his charges through their paces and then some. If they were going to be valorous enough to wear the Solarian tabards of Blue on Black, they would have to impress their masters mightily.Sir Roger, the Black Bard and his old school-chum Conrad Bassano sang them a marching song, the killer bards wearing their full chainmail and bearing shields. Sir Roger also sported a new array of javelins to add to his missile barrage of trusty Solarian throwing axes.
And so by squads “Dragon” and “Phoenix” they practiced at archery and combat maneuvers and indeed, during the trials, each of the new Bannermen proved himself worthy to wear the colors of Blue on Black. Several other interested local adventurers also requested to trial, and to play against the young Bannermen and were graciously accommodated by Prince Mythrin.
The Prince, during part of the exercise played at combat with the advancing squires, then commanded all the young squires to contest against the Solarian Champion and fleetest of knights, Sir Roger Blackbard of Langerhausen.
All performed admirably in the mock combat, but whereas the Prince was playful earlier in encouraging the squires to “defeat” his Royal Highness, the Black Bard did not give such quarter and chased down each Bannerman to yielding, smacking their backsides as they fled the field.
A pair of dark-cloaked merchant Rogues had traveled with the procession, one, a kindly rogue named Victor Lamazzo the knights had met and befriended at last midsummer’s “Tournament of Heroes”, the other, with studded armor and longbow, a dashing man in black whose name this Chronicler unfortunately couldn’t fully capture. Some said he was called “Morgan Noir”.
The dark-cloaked duo watched the knights’ games at a distance, as did some gathering townspeople and local adventurers. Victor and Morgan did at this time meet the gnome wizard Ambrose Bustlebottom and manage to secure employment and the protection of his magic.
Among the throng and even upon the exercise field the black mist grew to a thick fog, then an oppressive repulsive presence enveloping the entire town. It slowly began to dawn upon one and all that they had each experienced the same horrific dream. And they were all now living it.
Difficult as it was to enter town, so repugnant the misty blackness had become, the Solarian Knights made their way back to Rolehaven to hear what the others were saying about this strange occurrence.
A gnomish wizard named Ambrose Bustlebottom seemed to have the firmest grip on the situation, so attuned was he to the legends and sounds of the deepest earth. There came to be an understanding that a terrible presence of shadowy undeath was infiltrating the land, perhaps from the vicinity of Ockham, that accursed place.
Here in Rolehaven beset by dread and horrible unknown calamity, there was no law or local constabulary to be found. No Lord of the manor. Nor sheriff nor high priest nor militia.
It looked a sorry state of affairs.
But now with the help of the wise and benevolent gnomish wizard Ambrose Bustlebottom and the righteous faith of the cleric-smith Jaden, it would be up to the Knights of Solaris to save the precious and mystical town of Rolehaven, lest the entire continent be consumed by this ever-growing foul and diabolical pestilence.
As York, the Bannerman Color-Bearer led the vanguard down the narrow valley path, Sir Roger was close behind with javelins in hand. The Bannerman archers, Fawkes and Dexter took their respective sides. Good Captain Nestor marshaled his squires and Sir Roger’s comrade Conrad followed along behind with the Solarian Lords Falcor and Prince Mithrin.
Then…
A dark wraith-like shadow from the underworld was seen awaiting the Knights of Solaris at the end of the valley path. Once sighted, the snarling vaprous entity would have befrighted most ordinary men, but brave York stood his ground as Sir Roger came up to hurl his javelins most directly at the advancing unnatural monstrosity.
Two of the thrown steely spears would have stopped any light infantryman, Sir Roger would have thought. But this apparition from the underworld was like no earthly infantryman. The two thrown projectiles seemed as if to pass through the spectral enemy undisturbed by flesh or bone. He was, as the air, invulnerable.
Then the vicious shadow was upon Sir Roger, who defended with his shield as the archers fired and the Captain came to the fore along with the charging Conrad Bassano.
The Knights of Solaris rely much on their spirit of unity and loyalty, their strength and their steel, not magical auras or enchantments. Alas, the knights’ spellcasters Selerious Blue and Brother Argus were away at sea, and unavailable to bless or otherwise enhance their weaponry. The dark entity was invincible without such magic to counter its total lack of mortal tangibility.
And the shadow had magic of his own. During the futile initial melee, an electric bolt of dark lightning flew from his terrible sword and struck Sir Roger’s round shield, blasting a large hole right through it. The destructive hit destroyed the knight’s steely left gauntlet as well.
Repulsed from the shock, Sir Roger fell backwards into a bramble of Devil’s Thorn, piercing his now exposed left hand with 64 separate wounds. The ship’s surgeon would later spend two hours plucking black shards from the Black Bard’s fretting hand, for the tiny Devil’s Thorns would be driven deep into Sir Roger’s fingers and palm with the day full of sweaty combats yet to come.
Seeing their fellow fall back from the invincible shadow monster, Conrad and Captain Nestor rushed up to hold off the dark beast, slicing through where he should be but landing no definitive blows. Still, they held off the foe with ferocious strikes and blocking him with their shields.
As Sir Roger scrambled to his feet, he called up the path to the Lords reporting an obvious need for magical assistance. Lord Falcor ordered a retreat as three of the party eventually fell to the invincible shadow, brave York the Spearman, Captain Nestor, and Conrad Bassano.
They lay helpless upon the muddy ground at the mercy of whatever hellish ritual the dark wraith would perform and transform the fallen corpses.
The shadow would penetrate their very essence and put forth a great and nasty boil into their legs or arms, a plague of potentially epidemic proportions, and the dark spirit would possess mental command of their souls, enslaving them to dark servitude of zombiehood.
The Solarian party forced to retreat back up the path, Lord Falcor told Sir Roger to get the Prince and the men out, that he and his greatsword would hold off the approaching shadow and the zombie-like slaves the Bannermen had become.
Sir Roger’s protest fell upon deaf ears, and compelled by duty and fealty, he led the two remaining Bannermen back to the Prince’s position up the path, regretfully abandoning his closest friends and brothers to oblivion.
“We don’t leave our men behind,” proclaimed the Prince flatly upon hearing Sir Roger’s report of the losses and the invulnerability of the shadow monster.
While Lord Falcor and his greatsword alone held off the shadowy advance, again Sir Roger appealed to his Prince Lord Marshal’s higher wisdom, and the Prince repeated more insistently, “We don’t leave our men behind.”
As the Prince looked as if to vainly pursue the fate of Falcor, they noticed up the path somewhat, what appeared to be the tallish gnome dressed in wizard’s garb, Ambrose! He stood guarded by the two dark roguish figures, Victor Lamazzo and the dashing unnamed man in black.
They rushed up, quickly securing the go ahead by the pair of dark cloaked bodyguards, and inquired of gnomish Ambrose Bustlebottom if he had the wizardly powers to perhaps enchant a few weapons right here on the path in a moment or two, for the shadowy wraith and his undead minions cometh most soon.
Sadly, Ambrose had not that sort of power, but once the wise gnome was apprised of the situation, he offered the simple wisdom of the hasty retreat. So the gnome wizard and his party joined forces with the Knights of Solaris and made double-time march up away from another immediate shadowy encounter.
Stopping for a moment to patch together severed links of armor and mourn their losses, they eventually discussed possible approaches to overcoming this lack of magical enchantment. The Bannermen were well trained in the art of the Precise Strike technique. Perhaps, suggested Ambrose, if the shadows were susceptible to a special form of attack, they could be defeated.
The theory would have to wait, for a second shadowy wraith from the underworld emerged, blocking the path to escape. Ambrose took a bold opportunity to study this ghostly apparition and learned what his wisdom could pry from its mysterious existence. Imparting his summation, his brief advice was to run. Now!
Just then, the first shadow came flying up the path, followed by his four newly minted zombie slaves in colors of Blue and Black.
“Dragon Tail!” called out Prince Mythrin, signaling the tactical retreat to more improved ground.
Having to withdraw from the enemy twice in one day was bit much for Sir Roger’s conscience, but discretion being the better part of valor, he, the gnomish wizard and good Dexter bounded swiftly away, blazing a safe path of egress for the others to follow.
In redolent echo of the vivid nightmare of the night before, the only escape route from the invincible shadow nightmares was, as in the dream, through a muddy march, thigh-deep in places, and up a steep ravine to the other side.
The ghastly creatures fortunately did not follow, but moved in concert out of sight to seek new strategic advantage over the scrambling party of knights, knaves and gnome. Resting for a moment on the high ground above the valley, Ambrose discovered a hidden cache of gems and coin from which he doled out to various party members.
The lure of riches paled when compared to the dark shadows in wicked pursuit and the party kept moving and discussing how to solve their dilemma. Ultimately they resolved that they must make it back to town somehow and seek Jaden the cleric-smith of Cron. Perhaps he would have suitable weaponry or blessings for destroying these dark abominations.Suddenly, while scouting the pursuing shadow party, the Bannerman Fawkes and Sir Roger spotted their old comrade York holding aloft his banner spear standing alone at a bend in the road. They called to him, but he responded not.
“A trap!” exclaimed Sir Roger, and for a third time, the Knights of Solaris and company were forced to double-time retreat. This time they put a fair distance between themselves and the dark shadows and somehow in the scuffle managed to capture back the Bannerman York, his squire-mates making him prisoner, for friend and foe often wore the same faces on this strange day in Rolehaven.
Sir Roger took possession of the Bannerman’s naked Solarian spear, his knight’s fury building from the loss of the men along with image in his mind of the fallen banner of Solaris.
Through stealth and cleverness, the party of adventurers managed to escape the valley, but by some quirk of fate and lapse of unity, Prince Mythrin was left behind sometime after crossing the river.
“We don’t leave our men behind,” the Prince had said, and yet his disappearance was left unexplained as the party pressed on nevertheless.
Prince Mythrin was later encountered near town, but transformed, somehow under a charm or possession to make him perform foul deeds and murders. A group of adventurers in black finally dispatched the Solarian Lord Marshal, his wicked shadow of corruption detected by Jaden, and the Prince was temporarily confined in the town jail for security reasons.
With dark and mysterious characters, perhaps necromancers beginning to skulk and appear about Rolehaven, the Solarian party (minus the Prince) made haste for the safety and refreshing comforts of town. But because of a dark misty barrier all around the town, Sir Roger and other unfortunates were resigned to repose upon a flat rock just outside the gate.
Upon surprisingly encountering his lost friend Conrad Bassano, Sir Roger first verified the fellow bard’s soul status by begging Conrad sing him a song. It is well established that neither the possessed nor undead can sing, for the singing voice requires personal will and volition.
They sang of the Knights of Solaris as the duet staggeringly commenced and each bard’s identity and status were affirmed. Conrad also sang a song of how he came to return to Rolehaven, of an obelisk of great power and the awful deeds he had to perform while enslaved as a zombie drone of his shadow master.
There at the rock, Sir Roger would repair his gear fully, ponder and rest while waiting for the busy Jaden to exit town and come speak with him and possibly bless his weapons. The roguish duo, Victor Lamazzo and Morgan Noir consulted the cleric of Cron as the priest tended to the incoming multitudes of wounded and diseased. Ambrose the gnome would entreat the cleric to visit Sir Roger most urgently, just as the helpful wizard was underhandedly drawn away be a bewitched Prince Mythrin.
Meanwhile, Sir Roger noticed young and strong Azreal sitting upon the flat rock, bleeding slowly to death from a couple nasty limb wounds. He didn’t want that brave two-handed swordsman bleeding to death all over his rock so he offered to bandage the sliced warrior and salve his wounds using his knowledge of Plant Lore.
While the wounded warrior sat and coagulated, Sir Roger left for the valley to re-supply his Healing packets. When he returned, the young Azrael was much better and felt like talking, but the conversation was to be cut short by the interruption of the transformed Prince’s distant voice crying out, “Bandits! Bandits!”
Sir Roger grabbed up the banner spear and sprang into action. Racing around the city limits to the other side he encountered many men in black hats and the fallen Prince uttering a wheezing death wail moan, so Sir Roger quickly joined the mounting defense in putting the bandits down. Coming around a thicket he spied a black hat apparently dropped and left upon the ground and nearby to that, the fallen gnome Ambrose!
His throat was badly slashed down to the chest, but thanks to Sir Roger’s Plant Lore Healing Packets and First Aid skills (skills he used to teach at Hellbrand Marine Academy), Ambrose would be soon be able to stagger to town to the cleric Jaden for superior healing attention with the help of brave Victor Lamazzo.
It had been the wickedly charmed Prince Mythrin himself who had nearly slain the humble gnome. A knavish black-hatted character burst out of the underbrush to surprise the Prince too late to stop the murderous attack. And the knavish black rogues laid the Prince low, as Victor and Morgan returned fire from their bows.
But lo, as soon as he’d tended to the wounded gnome, Sir Roger spied other game. He slashed through the bellies of a couple of surprised bandits and ending a stand-off between Lord Falcor and the bold bewitched Azrael whose young life Sir Roger had just saved. The Black Bard charged brutally with the Solarian spear, goring the stunned Azrael like mad bull upon a failed matador.
With Lord Falcor also on the ground dying from mortal wounds, Sir Roger would staunch his bleeding and tend to him after gathering another Healing Packet from
the bounteous wood. The reunion with his fellow knights was not warm, for they’d all shown signs of zombie enslavement or mind-control, and Sir Roger trusted them not completely.
Even as apparently the sanest head around, Sir Roger himself wandered close to paranoia. In vain anger at failing to protect the Prince, faithful Sir Roger snapped a felled enemy’s axe handle in twain, tossing both halves into the dense weeds.
Kindly Ambrose Bustlebottom introduced Sir Roger to the cleric Jaden, and as Sir Roger was the only remaining knight neither plagued by accursed boils or zombie enslavement, he would serve as the town’s Champion on this day to challenge and slay the menacing shadows.
Then the dark shadows boldly came to assail the town.
With the combined force of the enchanted Sir Roger and his Solarian Spear, the cleric Jaden, the wizard Ambrose and the collected cabal of black-garbed adventurers and thieves, the magically protected party was ready to do battle with the undead. They slew any who opposed them and it was the cleric Jaden himself who smote the last shadow screaming back to the abyss from whence it came.
Yet certainly there was magic, knavery and necromancy afoot, for a sunny magical shining shield was brought forth, odd runes were discovered in the swirling black mist of the dissolving shadows and strange things started to occur with neither rhyme nor reason.
A shadow re-appeared, this time speaking in emotional tones as if hurt by the previous attacks. Then the passionate and faith-driven Jaden did so challenge and propose single combat duel with the diabolical shadow for supremacy of the battle and the day.
As the gathered and assorted characters there at Hammerslay Fields observed the spectacle of the duel, shenanigans of some sort occurred, reversals of fortune and in the upshot, the resurrected Azrael was mortally wounded in the throat by a Victor Lamazzo arrow.
As the gathered assembly watched in surprise as the bright blood gushed from Azrael’s wound, they missed the climax of the duel in which the shadow defeated the priest and performed the same grotesque ritual upon him, infecting him with the large boils and potentially the shadow’s dread command.
Jaden’s magically blessed charm running out on his spear faster than the cleric’s lifeblood upon the soil, the Black Bard did address the dark shadow, nobly indicating the powerful enchantment now protecting himself and his spear blade, and vanquished the foul spirit as chaos erupted on the battlefield.Again, friend and foe became nearly impossible to distinguish. Lord Falcor and Conrad Bassano teamed up with vile impenetrable shades to mercilessly cut down the stranded Bannermen and the rogue Victor Lamazzo, and a lone necromancer always seemed to be at the edges of the melee.
The dashing Morgan Noir dashed away for the coast, to the warship Avenger where he recalled Brother Argus kept a cache of minor relics and other blessed items in a sea locker. Swift, silver-tongued and deft as the merchant rogue was, Captain Harden of the Avenger wouldn’t allow Morgan Noir nor Prince Mythrin himself to violate the ship’s rules and charter. So Morgan remained hors de combat (out of the fight) until the knights’ and caravan’s return.
After the melee mayhem at Hammerslay Fields, Prince Mythrin and Sir Roger confronted the necromancer and forced him to promise not to animate any more Knights of Solaris and to immediately release his control over their friend Victor Lamazzo.
But the necromancer would not be so easily tamed. He agreed, then slunk away to later quietly dig in his blade into the guts of the fallen priest and slay Jaden bleeding on the ground, raising the corpse as a zombie.
Upon this sight, Sir Roger could not stand still. He targeted the necromancer and intercepted him before he could escape down a dark path.
The necromancer commanded the zombie Jaden to attack the advancing Sir Roger, but to no avail. Sir Roger masterfully slung his Solarian throwing axe dead center into the necromancer’s chest, gashing open his vitals. With the long reach of his spear, he quickly defeated the Jaden-zombie.
Somehow the gravely wounded necromancer managed to retain consciousness and erect a magical barrier around himself. Surrounded as he was there on the dark and narrow path, it appeared to be a waiting game to see when the barrier would come down and the nefarious necromancer suddenly skewered upon Sir Roger’s Solarian spear.
Sir Roger was content to wait anyway. He had chainmail to repair and indeed, if the stories were true of the spontaneous resurrection powers of Rolehaven, he would find the cleric of Cron back in town soon enough. While dark shadows still haunted the land, Sir Roger would need Jaden to re-enchant his spear.
After a couple minutes, someone shouted a warning, “Behind you!” and Sir Roger swung around to see a knavish character in black, stealthily crouched in the weeds at his back.
Thwarting the tightening entrapment with swift agility and speed of foot, Rogerburst into action with slashing spear. Spotting out of the corner of his eye a vague outline flanking him, he swung true and his spear blade sliced the chest armor of the nearby Capt. Nestor.
Apologizing for the unintended assault upon his fellow, Sir Roger suddenly realized the mighty Captain was not entirely himself, his will magically bent by an unknown foe to attack brother, friend and fellow.
This charmed Captain slashing his way toward mayhem was not a friend to Sir Roger, and with no friends anywhere to be found in a field of undead and unnamed enemies, the Black Bard of Langerhausen was again forced to retreat to town, to the Holy Ground and to seek the eventually reappearance of the resurrected Jaden the cleric-smith of Cron.
Sir Roger alone stoically remained at the Holy Ground post, awaiting the return of Jaden. But the vigil was soul-wrenching, for the Black Bard could see in the distance the gnome Ambrose Bustlebottom dying in the field whilst a pack of dark shadows and their fiendish undead slaves stalked the area near the main gate, and the knight could do nothing to bring justice to this unearthly madness. His protective magical enchantments had long ago run out.
Down in the darkest parts of the valley, Conrad Bassano, Victor Lamazzo, and others encountered the necromancer who spoke of a vampiric entity haunting the region. Ambrose Bustlebottom used his powers of Divination to confirm the necromancer’s words as true.
Suddenly, a shadowy attack left another dead shadow and another clue, but poor Victor Lamazzo was animated as a skeleton warrior, only to be struck down again and subsequently raised as a zombie by the necromancer. Upon command by Prince Mythrin and the deep saving faith of the cleric Jaden, Victor Lamazzo was returned to the living.
Back in Rolehaven, after Jaden had finally re-materialized and re-blessed Sir Roger’s Solarian Spear, the Knights of Solaris, and assembled adventurers with blessed weapons left town in pursuit of the shadows.
“From now on,” insisted Sir Roger recalling the last shadow combat, “you do all the magicking and I’ll do all the dueling.”
“Agreed!” said Jaden, the cleric-weaponsmith of Crom.
Down in the dark valley they went until they found their quarry and chased a pair of shadowy wraiths into a clearing.
Again, one shadow flashed a dark bolt of lightning from his terrible sword, and Sir Roger still shieldless from before, would have been instantly slain were it not for the life-saving aura of Jaden’s protective spell.
The combined assaults from the blazing skill of the magically enhancedcombatants completely overwhelmed the lone shadows, each dropping a colorful rune or clue about the meaning and portent of these shadow nightmares and how to stop them permanently.
However, one shadow escaped the combat with terrific speed, and Sir Roger in confusion struck and wounded an ally, the Felinoid rogue-priest. The young cat-man’s arm would heal sooner than the Black Bard would recover his wits. Friend and foe were hard to know.
They would return to town once again, this time to consult the Alchemist, a wise woman keen to the mystical meanings hidden in the dark regions of the world. The Alchemist told them of runic artifacts the shadows left behind that could used to erect a protective magical obelisk able to protect all of Rolehaven.
Showing the gathered adventurers an arcane relic parchment, which Ambrose could magically ascertain as ancient Elvish in origin, she placed the red runes upon it, magically erecting a massive obelisk that enchanted the persons and weaponry of all gathered.
Now the shadows below would have to face the justice of magical steel.
Fawkes, one of the Bannerman archers asked Sir Roger that since the Solarian Champion would go in this final conflict using the Banner spear against the shadows, could the young squire wield Sir Roger’s broadsword?
Sir Roger declined the squire’s request, citing the possibility he might need it if he somehow lost his spear or wounded his arm. Then a butting-in black-hatted knave made the same request to which Sir Roger shrugged and bizarrely complied, offering to let young Fawkes wear his newly-repaired knight’s shield instead.
Down to the valley they went, scouting along the way to catch sight of the remaining foul shadows and any of their undead retinue. When a pair of shadow monsters were spotted, Sir Roger, his bottled up rage of repeated retreats finally to be unleashed with righteous fury, rushed to the vanguard, hurling his javelins and axes against the shadowy foes.
In the combat, chaos erupted in the ranks on the narrow path, and somehow in the scrum Lord Falcor was felled by a lightning bolt, his greatsword on the ground next to his slumped armored frame.
Again the lead shadow targeted the Black Bard with a magical spell made to remove his Solarian spear from the combat. His primary weapon gone, Sir Roger instinctively reached down for his broadsword, only then to realize he was completely disarmed.As the archers and other warriors engaged the persistently wicked shadows, the unarmed Sir Roger raced back up the path searching for a spare weapon, then he spied the great two-handed sword of Lord Falcor lying alone upon the grassy ground.
Picking it up, Sir Roger grasped the still-warm hilt and with hot blood coursing his veins, stormed down the path in long vaulting strides. The lead shadow could hold off the slings and arrows for a while, but probably wasn’t expecting the Black Bard of Langerhausen to return bounding to the fight with another heavy weapon.
Sir Roger’s lightning approach forced the last shadow to remove himself in rapid retreat, so aggressive was the Black Bard’s long greatsword attack. The final shadow defensively fought off the Solarian knight’s relentless assault for a brief while, then Sir Roger, with enchanted two-handed blade struck home and the last shadow finally gave up the ghost.
And there stood the noxious necromancer perhaps grieving the loss.
E’en with the fading of the final shadow, Sir Roger’s bloodlust had not yet let go. So he requited the meddlesome necromancer with a few bloody strikes of Falcor’s greatsword, in the end putting it through the black wizard’s black heart.
To prevent the next incarnation of this felled necromancer from using his death magic against him, Sir Roger took out his dagger and collected the necromancer’s nose.
The shadow nightmares of Rolehaven vanquished, a plague averted, an obelisk of protection erected, and a few bandits and ne’er-do-wells receiving their just desserts. The honorable Bannermen proved their mettle and won new status. Just a little temporary chaos and confusion, some spellbound treachery and undead horrors with which to contend. All in all, another fine outing for the Knights of Solaris in Rolehaven.
As they made for the shore and the waiting warship Avenger, the Knights of Solaris looked back proudly at the town they’d once again saved from unholy horrors. And they knew they’d return, for there were many more horrors waiting in the depths and valleys of the earth, and soon enough, Rolehaven would call and beckon them again.
