Part MDCCLXXXVII: Death's Grasp
Death's Grasp
Eighteenth Day of the First Month 293 AC
"Does it get any easier?" you ask Malarys as the last judgement is passed, the last man sent to his death to add fresh blood onto the defiled ground of Sallosh. Having sent Lya ahead to prepare the Shadow Tower for travel and Dany to speak to Amrelath, your time in the ruined city had grown just that much darker, with more than the ephemeral shades that gather with the coming of dusk.
"I have found that leaning on proper jurisprudence helps a great deal," he replies, not truly addressing the heart of your disquiet, whether unable or unwilling to do so you cannot guess.
You sigh, offering a tired smile nonetheless. The former advocate had been a treasure in keeping the trials running smoothly, examining witnesses in a sensible and swift manner.
Outside the remaining sellswords carried heavy crates and chests of equipment and plunder without much complaint under Ser Richard's steely gaze and occasional curt orders. The knight made no secret of that fact that he would have preferred that you be considerably less merciful to hired killers in the service of traitors, but still he does his duty well for all that.
You wonder with cold satisfaction what Tiamat must think to see one of her heralds, green scales glittering the the fading sunlight, unceremoniously carted off like a hunter's trophy for the carving while the three battle-forged servitors march obediently besides the column of men.
Gained 3780 Gold in antiquities
Gained 3 Iron Golems (2 archers 1 warrior)
Gained 1 Abishai corpse
Waymar falls in beside you, his thoughts obviously far from yours, and asks softly: "It seems an ill done thing to take from the dead who have done us no harm and merely protect what is theirs from the depredation of... looters."
"I will not hide behind technicalities, my friend. I will not name it 'salvage' or the spoils of victory. Instead I will only ask you: do you think the dead find solace in their wretched existence, whether we return their treasures or not?"
"I..." his answer breaks off as a cold wind howls through the ruined street and a long shadow stretches down it. Where the path ahead had been empty a moment ago now a skeletal figure garbed in tattered robes stands, its laeft hand open towards you, as though to bid you to halt. Around its neck hangs a heavy golden chain adorned with a sapphire-studded starburst.
"That is no minor apparition," Malayrs' voice whispers in your ear upon a spell-wrought wind. "The mark is that of a Loremaster of the Guiding Star." Then he calls out ahead in the tongue of Sarnor of old. Like a thousand hushed whispers piled one atop the other into a hissing screech comes the reply.
"It, or rather they wish to know by what right we would take from the dead and heap further torment upon the already damned." The mage lord's voice is perfectly level, offering no judgement of his own in the matter.
What do you reply?
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OOC: That was an interesting set of rolls from the undead is all I'll say.
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