“That went easier than I would have expected. No small thanks to you Priest. Well done, Maruc!” Feldard commented as he took the time to wipe bits of rotted flesh from his axe blade. He moved back to his position in the doorway and resumed his watch. As these things seemed to be able to crawl up from the very ground he would need to be extra watchful. “So who’s gonna be the one to open that there thing?” Nodding towards the sarcophagus.
Maruc grimly thrust his symbol back under his tunic. He gazed with open revulsion at the charnal house gore that spattered the room. Poor souls! He couldn’t begin to understand the thinking behind the creation of these creatures. What kind of person would do this to another sentient being, even an evil one? He’d heard people call the Halavist ethos insane, but this was so graphic in its insanity all else in Maruc’s experience paled into insignificance.
At Feldard’s words, a light returned to his eyes. “Gauging by our recient experiences and depending on how heavy it is, I’d suggest strapping it up and dragging it outside into the daylight. We can uncover the contents under the sturn gaze of the sun. After all this isn’t a race is it?” Marucs humour started to return to him.
After a bit, Saeth stopped studying the new blade in wonder, and looked up at the others, huddled in conversation. “You want us to haul that thing outside? Which one of us looks like a packmule? Come now, someone bring a torch over this way.” She stepped up to the dias, ready to throw the engraved lid to the floor.
“Before we do anything with it I think I should finish checking to see if it is trapped, having been disturbed by those old bones,” suggested Nicolai.
“None of us are pack mules, Saeth. What I think Maruc means is that creatures of darkness are repelled by light.” Miklos turned the the priest, “Am I correct Maruc? And if the contents of the sarcophogus is another member of the unquiet dead then surely a logical precaution would be to open it outside. Why would you want to take the risk for a few moments labour? We can all carry it you know and this is not a race as Maruc aptly put.”
“But either way I would like to decipher the language on the casket before we open it. We might discover something important. If you can give me a moment I will research a new method I have recently learnt.” Miklos pulled out his spell book, and opened it to the Read Languages incantation.
Maruc smiled openly and patted Seath in a commradely fashion, “Mistress Saeth, for one who is essentially immortal you are quiet impatient!”
“Well while we are awaiting Miklos’s intelligence on the writing, I’d suggest we confirm that these unlucky souls in the centre of the room suffered from ‘death by zombie’ rather than something more insidious.” Maruc began to investigate the skeletal remains on the floor. “Come Seath, you can vent your frustration on these if you like. See, these poor fellows have been partially eaten…”
As the mage reviewed his spellbook, Nicolai searched the sarcophogus thoroughly for traps, but found none.
Miklos invoked the spell and the cuneiform imprinted upon the sarcophogus scrambled before his eyes, and reformed into the familiar characters of his own language. Something was not working though. The letters were unstable, and moved about as Miklos tried to focus on the words. He could only read fragments of the ancient writing. The Dread Night, Nithia, Nyx, Taymora, Black Opal Eye, Undeath, Sacrifice.