Grimm knelt in silent prayer over the body on the altar. The bites on her neck were turning a disturbing hue of light green. He prayed to Abadar for guidance. He prayed for her soul to either return to this mortal vessel or to find everlasting peace in the afterlife. She did not stir, though she was not completely cold to the touch as he had laid her upon the stone slab in the mausoleum hours ago.
She had been in his charge. If she passed on, her death would weigh upon him until the end of his days. His body tensed at the thought. She had been under his protection and had actually fallen trying to come to his aid. He did not feel worthy to bear Abadar’s key on the chain around his neck. She was no witch, merely a soul with a brave heart who fell victim to the blackness that permeated these lands.
He had been faltering under the onslaught of the three undead horrors at the door to the crypt. They had swarmed him from all sides. Gnashing blackened teeth and rotten flesh battered his shield and helm. They were attempting to pull him down so that they could continue unabated further into the main chamber. As he held up his shield to bat away a skeletal mouth seeking his neck, he lost concentration for a second. When he looked up he saw her on the ground, her fresh red blood spilling from the mouth of the corpse over her form. He would remember that moment in many nightmares over the days and months ahead.
The incessant droning of the old fool reached a crescendo in the nearby corner and Grimm flinched. Abadar must be testing his resolve to put him in the company of such a man. He was a drunk and a coward. Used to the company of his paladin battalion he never thought to look to his flanks once the order had been issued to hold the line. Within moments he was alone in the doorway and the horde was upon him. To hear this man invoke Abadar’s name made him sick. He again prayed for the guidance and wisdom to deal with this test of his faith.
Grimm longed for silence. If only the man would cease muttering incomprehensibly to himself for a moment. He sighed within his helmet….if the professor had seen something of value in this man then Grimm would try and find it within himself to do the same, if only for the sake of his fallen friend.
One thing Grimm now knew for certain; he had underestimated the evil of Ustalav. He had been unprepared for this. These were dark, lawless lands where the very soil churns out abominations which try and rend you limb from limb. He would need to be vigilant. He vowed upon his holy symbol to safeguard the friends and former companions of Professor Lorimorr. He would not fail them as he had Mirela. He vowed to safeguard them to Ravengro and beyond if necessary. He called upon the strength of Abadar to aid him in bringing swift and stunning vengeance upon those who would do them harm.
He prayed for strength. He prayed for patience. He prayed for silence.
