Oh my gosh, I can't even express how wonderful it feels to finally witness an update to Medieval Cohesion after such a long phase of silence. Education and various events I got myself involved with have really consumed a lot of time and energy lately. Nevertheless, this summerbreak has been a true blessing and a great opportunity for me to get back in the game. In this particular chapter, Raksasha and Archimedes delve into the desert tomb to prevent the dreaded resurrection of Barkur the Ravager. Will they actually succeed in doing so or will they face adversity too great for them to overcome? Be sure to read and find out because you will not want to miss this. As always, commentary is very welcome!

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Chapter 75 – Tomb of Barkur

Another dispute broke out between Jarle and the young scouts before we were prepared to advance and enter the tomb. The objection was, as expected, closely associated with the same issue as before and they pleaded for permission to join us in the infiltrative assault. If my word harbored any weight in that argument, I would exhort them to quit the obnoxious whining and respect the command they were given. My concurrence with Jarle in this case was not only induced by the fact that we did need someone to stand guard by the entrance; it was also affected by a sense of discomfort introduced by the company of Yaeger. If the boisterous attitude was not enough to threaten someone's sanity, his lack of subtlety also rendered it easy for me to catch him eyeball the conspicuous curves of my derriere whenever he thought that I was being inattentive. What a lewd schmuck! This was not the type of fascination I had hoped to attract with my toned physique and it left me bemused how the runt could find the predominant masculinity of my body sexually appealing. My mind transitioned into a state of increased alertness and if I had detected even the slightest sensation of suggestive physical contact, I would tear out his innards and leave him suspended outside the tomb with the intestines around his neck like a noose. Although some might perceive such a heinous measure as a dramatic overreaction, the worst thing a woman affiliated with our community can do is to let the spirit of patriarchy prevail, regardles if the male dominance is exerted through conducts of sexual harassment or mental oppression.

The boys eventually gave up on their attempt to wrestle with Jarle's obstinacy and promised to guard the entrance as instructed. My eyes browsed briefly to pick up the realization that Archimedes had gone missing. Of course he had. He had no patience for such trivialities and he understood the urgency of the situation, which led me to the assumption that he had probably already delved far into the tomb while the rest of us were distracted by inrelevant trifles. Jarle and I left the defiant runts abruptly and accessed the tomb through the broken entrance, compelled to trust that they would not stray from their post. We scrambled across the loose rubble of what was once a gate of thick and solid sandstone, then wound up in the gloomy passages interlaced with the interior architecture. Two dry and dusty torches were strapped to the wall in the passage immediately behind the broken gate of the entrance, presumably for the sake of convenience for visitors who had justifiable reasons to roam in these catacombs. My assessment of the torches led to the conclusion that they would have been able to burn just fine and might have helped us navigate through the darkness, yet since neither of us had the tools or ability to create fire, we had no choice but to rely solely on the measly traces of daylight which penetrated the structure through crevices and air shafts. At least the passages were complemented with the width required for me to bring the large and cumbersome axe along, although not spacious enough for me to exploit the full potential of such heavy weaponry. This would not be an ideal place to engage in battle.

Although it ought to be presumable that Barkur's burial chamber offered greater space for us to fight, I was not particularly concerned about if we came across hostile enemies in these narrow corridors, because the blows of the axe were not my only method to silence a challenger. I was also granted the option to have Jarle advance to deal with such complications until the circumstances shifted for my style to be rendered effective again. He had always fancied the lighter selection of weaponry, preferably a fine instrument of steel for each hand, and his technique refined by many years of raw experience derived from the battlefield was no less than a beauty to behold. We have unfortunately only fought side by side twice before and the last time was several years back. Even for a man like Jarle who is in such good shape, the process of aging accelerates and takes a significant toll on the body, so I would not expect him capable to endure the same deal of punishment and exertion which he was able to withstand in the past. Strength, speed and agility wanes once the organs retire after a long life of toil, unable to produce the same sense of effeciency. Old mucles grow increasingly challenging to train with exercise and the once healthy body becomes susceptible to minor ailments which further impairs bodily functionality. Jarle may be reputed for his excellence in combat and I do hold his skills in high regards, yet every mortal man who bleeds has his limitations, limits which become increasingly relevant to take into account when age becomes an influential factor.

For pity's sake, it was a nightmare to navigate through this structure without a light source. We walked in circles, investigated familiar corridors and occasionally wound up in tedious dead ends incorporated in the architecture to discourage or confuse tomb raiders. If the sombre atmosphere was not enough to make the blood freeze to ice in my veins, we were also constantly subjected to the eerie noise of chanting emitted from the dark ritual, unholy voices creeping through the passages and being impossible to trace. They were everywhere, yet nowhere. The continuous chanting which haunted these passages manifested as a stressful reminder that we were running out of time, but then the noise meshed with the distinctive sound of sword fighting from somewhere nearby, a sound which was indeed detectable. It led us towards a narrow corridor in the northwestern section of the structure, in which Archimedes had encountered a solitaire skeleton risen from the dead to prevent an interruption of the ritual. His opponent was frail and lightly armed, dried up to the bone from deprivation of humidity and the lemur still persistently attempted to slay his first enemy with the blade I handed him from the desert. We watched him strategically use his arcane powers to gain an advantage in combat, teleporting every few seconds to strike his foe from different angles. Each blow delivered did stun the skeleton long enough to prevent retaliation, yet in spite of his tenacity, no significant harm was done. Although it irked me that I had to interrupt such stellar entertainment, I decided to exploit the distraction and snuck up on the skeleton from behind, reaching my arm out to effortlessly crush its skull between my fingers. The skull crumbled and the body collapsed.

Jarle: Such an impressive surge of energy and you did not even break a sweat. That skeleton clearly never saw it coming.
Archimedes: Spare me the mockery. Hyena! We need to talk. I would not reject a proposal to test new waters but you have handed me a defective blade. It does not work and you just witnessed it with your own eyes. Perhaps it needs to be charged or something.
Raksasha: Charged? I am not so certain that the blade is at fault but do not give up on it just yet. Did you locate Barkur's chamber?
Archimedes: I believe so. It is not far from here but the entrance is blocked by a gate which they actually left intact, perhaps as a strategic obstruction to delay the meddlesome.
Raksasha: Perhaps they never went that way. You saw how they had reduced the main gate to ruins. We ought to look elsewhere.
Archimedes: No, they were there, trust me. This obnoxious chanting was exceptionally audible when I rendered myself attentive outside.
Raksasha: Through a solid gate consisting of low grade limestone?
Jarle: The clue is vague indeed but it is worth an investigation. Lead us to this gate you found, stripy rodent.
Archimedes: Primate, you dolt, a ring-tailed lemur to be exact. We exotic species are evidently a scarce sight to behold in these parts. Nonetheless, prepare yourselves and follow my lead.

A flash of light appeared out of nowhere as Archimedes summoned flames to engulf his free hand, using his arcane magic to repel the thick darkness which has hindered the investigation since our arrival. The pupils in my eyes constricted to ready themselves for the reunion with light. A throng of scarab beetles was spooked by the flame and scurried across the wall next to me, then disappeared through one of the many narrow crevices found in the rocky texture; nasty critters. Once Archimedes moved out, we followed him closely, as neither of us wanted to get lost in the gloom of this tomb again. We only ventured through a few narrow corridors before Archimedes suddenly stopped and stretched his arms out to block our way. He told us to be wary. I thought he had detected enemies nearby and steeled myself for combat but that was apparently not the case this time. Jarle stirred impatiently behind me. Archimedes used the sword I gave him to prod an inconspicuous tile, which then sunk a few inches into the floor and activated a hidden sort of mechanism. A minor volley of small darts were shot from tiny holes hidden in the wall at the end of this corridor. My shield was literally riddled with those terrible things but I noticed that two darts were stuck in Archimedes shoulders. He did not seem particularly shocked or concerned by it and just turned his head to assess the darts with his nostrils, squinting his eyes once the smell provided him enlightenment.

Archimedes: Poison extracted from Deathstalker scorpions, potent enough to make a fully grown man bite the dust within a minute. We are guaranteed to encounter more traps like this so tread lightly.
Jarle: By Dol'Krathos' might, you are struck! What do we do?
Archimedes: Nothing. I am fine.
Jarle: Well, this is eerie. I am quite positive that a minute has already gone by and you do not seem like you are about to writhe in excrusiating pain. Are you exceptionally resilient somehow?
Archimedes: Something like that.
Raksasha: It is a long story. I will tell you all about it some other day.
Archimedes: Someone approaches.
Jarle: What? From where?
Archimedes: The corridor from whence we came.
Raksasha: I hear it as well and those voices are disappointingly familiar.
Jarle: What is... oh, come on.

Someone was indeed approaching our current location, someone who had by no means mastered the art of caution and discretion. The tonation of their voices and the pace of speech implied that they squabbled over something. Distance rendered the spoken words challenging to hear, yet they were obviously lost like we were before and frustrated because they were at a dissent based on directions. Archimedes did not seem alarmed, so neither did I, and Jarle was most of all mired in exasperation. As the three of us glared towards the end of the corridor from which the voices came, the two dorks who were supposed to stand guard by the entrance eventually appeared, paralyzed by fear once they raised their sight to meet the eyes of Jarle. The runts apparently did abandon their posts to follow us and the elderly man did not seem the slightest pleased with their disobedience. This ought to get interesting, I thought.

Jarle: What do you think you are doing here? I gave you specific orders to guard the entrance and not stray from your post!
Igor: Yaegar insisted and I could not let him barge in here alone.
Yaegar: Do not be such a stick in the mud, old man, you will need plenty of brawn to squash these undead perpetrators.
Jarle: If either of you dimwits die, I will be held responsible for the loss. Our mission was to survey the environment as scouts, not launch a reckless attack upon intrusive enemies. We should report this to the clan.
Yaegar: Trust me, I am more than ready to share the tale of our glorious victory over a fine tankard of ale back in camp.
Jarle: You are hopeless, beyond the reach of reason. What am I supposed to do with these two guys?
Archimedes: Bring them along. We will need expendable pawns to draw hostile attention away for the superior pieces to move across the grid.
Yaegar: That is correct! Wait, what did he just say?
Igor: Just let it go.
Jarle: Your disobedience has deprived me of options so I have no choice but to take you with us. Do not fool yourselves to believe that this will not yield reprisals when we get home, but since you are here against my wishes, here is what you will do; stay close, shut up and do not expose yourself to unnecesary danger. Stay alive; understand?
Igor: Yes, Master Jarle.
Yaegar: Naturally. Now let us go hit something. Less prattle, more battle! I am psyched and ready to rumble.
Archimedes: Hopeless brutes. Keep your voice down and follow me...

I did not really want to say anything out loud but I was partially inclined to agree with Archimedes' prior proposition. Those two guys would be no more than a mere distraction at best and especially Yaegar provided us amply with reasons to suspect that they might get in our way during combat. Nonetheless, the two men joined our party and came along as we continued our search for Barkur's burial chamber, picking up the pace to compensate for wasted time. Archimedes resumed to take the lead and guide us towards the gate he discovered. Every now and then, our excursion through the dark corridors was interrupted by an ominous rumble which caused the entire structure to shake. Sand descended from above and made my eyes itch. Barkur was awakening. The ritual was nearly complete and we had still not even located the accursed chamber. Every minute wasted in uncertainty smothered my faith in hope. Archimedes eventually led us to the gate as he promised. It was smaller than the demolished gate we found by the entrance and presumably less solid, yet sealed shut without any obvious way to open. The walls in this corridor were decorated with ancient symbols of an abstract and incomprehensive nature. Some of them seemed vaguely comparable to things you can recognize from the real world while other symbols were more like arbitrary scribbles. Archimedes was intrigued, almost fascinated. He left our side and approached a wall, using his fiery hand to render the symbols visible for him to study. His long tail stirred lightly.

Archimedes: These hieroglyphics are quite engrossing and it irks me that I have no time to inspect it thoroughly. You should be pleased to know that I was compelled to learn foreign languages like these during my studies at the academy in Zaldorama, as some of the magic I sought to learn was encrypted in foreign literature, so it should not take me long to decipher these semiotic symbols, carry over the semantic values and produce a translation which you would be able to comprehend. Alright, I got it. This is ancient Mandoghese, and if my knowledge of this language has not declined, the gate opens to he, who...
Raksasha: We are busting this thing open. Jarle, help me with this.
Jarle: Certainly. I am ready.

This was no time for us to stall or subject ourselves to a dull history lesson for that matter. Jarle and I pressed our shoulders together, standing side by side to unite the mass of heavy muscles, then charged simultaneously towards the gate to ram it with our combined weight. We struck the gate with such tremendous force that my eyesight flickered for a moment and a tedious ringing tone appeared in my ear canal. It eventually dawned on me that I should probably not have let my head be the first part of me to make contact with the target. The gate sustained great damage from the attack, confirmed by the fact that comprehensive cracks had appeared across the surface to suggest it would eventually succumb to the exertion of force, yet the first attempt did not persuade the sturdy obstruction to yield. I shook my head once to clear myself of the indisposition, then waddled backwards to gain some distance between me and the crumbling gate, steeling myself for the second attempt and hoping the gate would fall before me. Jarle did the same. Significantly battered from our first attempt to destroy the gate, we charged and rammed into it again, even though neither of us were able to walk in a straight line. This time we succesfully broke through. I kneeled and leaned forward to curve my back in order to have it absorb the impact of falling rubble from above, guaranteed to elicit quite a deal of bruises. The collapse of the gate gave rise to a thick cloud of sand which dispersed over a few seconds.

Archimedes: ...pulls the small and inconspicuous lever on this left wall, conveniently integrated in the rows of ancient hieroglyphics, but I suppose that method works as well.
Raksasha: A lever? There was a lever for that gate?
Archimedes: See for yourself.

The lemur went over and pulled the lever which he spoke of and I heard a low whirring noise from inside the walls as it triggered a hidden mechanism. The paltry pieces of rubble which were still somehow connected to the mechanism stirred lightly. Well, call me the aunt of a dromedary, I guess he was right. Archimedes brushed the bottom of his mantle back before he carefully stepped over the rubble we left behind.

Archimedes: Imagine how much pain and misery you guys would be spared from if only you used your head every once in a while.
Raksasha: I actually did use my head the first time but the results turned out to be unsatisfactory, undesirable and agonizing.
Yaegar: That... was awesome. Igor, you and I should take on the next gate! I bet we can bring it down quicker than those two.
Igor: If you say so, Yaegar,
Archimedes: Words of wisdom are utterly wasted on you.
Jarle: Stay sharp, folks, I see light at the end of this corridor.

The elderly warrior raised his hand and pointed down towards the joint where this passage connected with the next, directing our attention to the fact that hints of light did indeed flicker subtly on the floor before the entrance, presumably from torches lit inside the room. Somebody was definitely in there. Archimedes, Jarle and I looked at each other with determination searing in our eyes. Igor and Yaegar appeared clueless and oblivious as ever. We began to run down the corridor at a brisk pace. Archimedes, Jarle and I eventually pushed it to a sprint. Every spark of pain throughout my body was gradually quelled by a rush of adrenaline and it felt like my physical capabilities had been elevated to a whole new level. I was psyched and ready to wreak havoc. The three of us entered the room hurriedly, then stopped to survey our surroundings, subsequently joined by the less determined youth who needed to catch up with us. A large sarcophagus was positioned in the heart of this relatively spacious chamber and now we finally located the source from which the eerie chanting originated; four nasty liches stood in a circle around the sarcophagus and carried out the dark ritual, while an unsettlingly familiar figure provided supervision from the back, a short and cloaked jerk who I still had a pending score to settle with. Thorshak was here and he was definitely not pleased to see me. The smug and confident attitude he had the last time we met was nowhere to be seen, and frankly, I was eager to see his little skeletal body mangled underneath the blade of my axe.

Thorshak: Hyaenidae bitch! How did you find us?
Raksasha: The knowledge will be of no use to you once I have sent your sorry hide back to the abyss where it belongs.
Thorshak: I do not appreciate this vindictive attitude, nor your inclination to interfere with my agendas, but you will not get in my way and disrupt this ritual. Death awaits you, Raksasha Arajah. Die!

Never had I seen Thorshak fuming with such rage. Even during the darkest years of my life in which I was subjected to enslavement, compelled to accommodate his every wish and desire, his temper never peaked such as this, not even when my efforts did not correspond with his expectations. This was sheer hatred, contempt presented in the most sinister and abominable form. His hands, barely left visible by the long sleeves of his robes, were engulfed with energies of dark magic as he prepared to demonstrate the powers which he acquired from his affiliation with death. The temperature dropped drastically within the chamber as he drew the energies directly from the spectral realm. I squinted my eyes and steeled myself for the anticipated attack. Thorshak's exasperation transitioned into a furious cry as he stretched his arms out towards me, the energy from his skeletal hands collaborating to form a large and ghastly bolt of black magic, hurled directly towards me. I thought the bolt was almost too large to be brought forth by someone so small and I instinctually raised the shield to deflect the attack, not entirely certain if the impact of magic could be blocked like the blow of an axe. A mere second before the bolt would make contact with my shield, Archimedes decided to intervene and stepped in front of me with his arm raised, summoning a magical barrier shaped like a disk. The barrier deflected the bolt with ease and forced it to change direction, causing it to blast a massive hole in the wall to my left. This marked the reason why I still felt that my objections to the discovery and exploitance of magic were justified; such destructive powers should not be for mortals to wield.

Archimedes: Conceited fool. It would seem like your subjection to death has armed you with powers which your intellect clearly lacks the sufficiency to comprehend and wield properly. What a waste.
Thorshak: Cocky son of a... you will regret that underestimation. Stay back! Come one step closer and I swear you will be the first to witness my true power. Do yourself a favor and walk away while you can.
Archimedes: How naive of you to think that we would be conned by such deception. My arcane expertise enables me to gauge the powers of my adversaries and I can sense that you have little more to entertain us with than you have already flaunted. I also happen to know a fair deal about dark rituals such as this one, and powerful as the liches may be, they are forced to concentrate on the ritual and can thus not defend themselves. Do you intend to take us all on alone? Perhaps it would be better if you just ordered the liches to vacate the ceremony.
??? : He is not alone.

An armoured person stepped out of the shadows close to Thorshak; it was that fallen cleric who had shamefully sworn fealty to the emperor of death and stalked Wesley throughout his journey. Sean-something-Sagard, if memory serves. I did not really care to remember his name. He was just another undead target to squash. Last time I saw him was during the battle at sea close to Starlight Island. He was the commander in charge of the undead crew which attacked us. Although it is a memory which I loathe to recall, the last thing my eyes beheld was the ghastly visage of the skeletal dragon he brought along, which unfortunately bested me and knocked me out after a much too intimate entanglement. However, Gary has a loose tongue and seldom keeps good stories to himself, so he later informed me that Captain Russel managed to hit the bastard with a precise shot from a cannon and the powerful blast allegedly sent him flying off the vessel. No mortal man would survive that. As I did not ask Wesley to validate the truthfulness of this tale, Gary's claim was presumably distorted by exaggeration or this rotten freak just did not know when to give up and die. I was inclined to believe the latter. His putrid exterior had deteriorated even more from battle and decomposition since our last encounter, and frankly, I could only imagine what the filthy piece of cloth across his face was supposed to congeal. It was soaked with fluids oozing from the rotten flesh and covered one of his eyes, granted that the eye had not vacated his skull and left the socket hollow for some reason. Nonetheless, Sean was no pushover. His influence could indeed jeopardize our goal to eliminate these liches and thwart the ritual.

Yaegar: Behold, the great champion of ugly! I hope that is as gross as they come or I am going to barf.
Sean: Charming. My eye seems to detect a disappointing absence of the self-righteous Sir Lightweaver. Did he abandon his comrades and crawl away to cower in seclusion?
Raksasha: Keep dreaming. He is alive and stronger than ever, yet occupied with his own agenda. That is all you need to know.
Sean: What a pity. I have looked forward to our little... reconciliation. Perhaps it would alter his choice of priorities and lure him out if I eliminated his bothersome comrades. The heart is a fragile organ and he deserves to wallow in despair before I crush him for good.
Yaegar: Nice bluff! I see through your deception. He is bluffing, right?
Archimedes: He is not.
Sean: Without further ado, let me show you the meaning of true terror.

The undead cleric raised an arm and snapped with his fingers, the noise echoed inside the dingy chamber and something metallic stirred in the shadows. What I foolishly mistook as statues obscured by darkness appeared to be two large knights clad by thick armors, the steel more black than the conscience of a callous murderer, walking with slow steps into the light from left and right. They were about one foot taller than me and I was by far the largest person in our group. Both were armed with inpenetrable tower shields, though one wielded a heavy mace large enough to be a maul for the common man, while the other wielded a long blade with ancient runes etched into the dark steel. Their identities were concealed by sturdy helmets, leaving us compelled to dread what horror lurked underneath the armor. The knights positioned themselves on each side of the cleric to form a barricade, blocking our access to Thorshak and the liches conducting the ritual in the back of the chamber. Igor and even his overconfident comrade slowly backed off, evidently receptive to the effects of intimidation, though the awe induced by Jarle's authority prevented them from initiating a hasty retreat. My eyes could not detect any obvious weaknesses for me to exploit so I had no choice but to ask the wizard for advice. He probably knew how to topple these malignant giants and reduce them to mounds of metallic debris. Archimedes himself was not even remotely shaken by these gruesome menaces. A dead man detached from mortal concerns probably have little left to fear.

Yaegar: Well, this sucks. Would you possibly grant us permission to retreat, run home and weep, Master Jarle?
Jarle: You had your chance to do so and missed it. Stand your ground, boys, and fight like true champions of Nahmaran!
Igor: That is it. We are dead.
Raksasha: Kastellos, quick – what do you sense?
Archimedes: These are cursed elite soldiers from Zervas' legion, spawned from the darkest bowels of death, often referred to as “Dread Knights” by common folk. Their presence suggests that Zervas is desperate and would loathe to see this operation fail.
Raksasha: How do we take them down?
Archimedes: They are slow but heavily armored – light attacks may prove completely ineffective. Try to flank them and attack from angles which the shields cannot block. If you see a gap in their defenses, hit hard and make every strike count.
Yaegar: Hit hard – got it!
Archimedes: Additionally, I sense that fire and lightning would only inflict minor damage on them, yet they are fairly susceptible to ice.
Igor: That is awesome, but in case you did not notice, frost and blizzards are largely uncommon here in Sanathir – being a desert and all.
Raksasha: He brought his own.
Archimedes: Correct.

With a mere motion of the fingers, the flame which had engulfed his hand switched from crimson red to azure blue, which also applied to the enchantment of his short blade. Snowflakes rose from the frosty flame, tiny marvels of nature which beauty left even this stern woman momentarily infatuated, before they came in contact with the ruthless heat of the desert and melted into nothing. The dark knights did not advance towards us and expressed no intention to do so. They were defending the ritual to prevent our intervention. Jarle reached back to grab the hafts of his two bearded hand axes strapped to his back, armed and prepared to engage in combat. We had no choice but to take initiative and launch the attack. Jarle and I advanced carefully towards the knights, then spread out to left and right, attempting to circle around our enemies to flank them. Igor and Yaegar reluctantly followed our lead but I did not expect much contribution from their participation; they would probably get themselves killed, and quite frankly, I was contented with the possibility that their lives were forfeit for the sake of our cause. Blame me not for cruelty, because a barbarian knows no greater glory than to be slain in combat and their involvement did not violate any volition. Once we were all out of the way and Archimedes spotted an opening, he seized the opportunity to attack. A large sphere of ice was launched at the knights and splashed in the narrow crevice between them, the area effect wide enough to affect them both. The bolt of ice left the knights partially frozen and slowed them down significantly, yet they were guaranteed to thaw quickly in the heat of the desert. Something sizzled almost too low for the ear to hear – it was the sound of the ice on the ground melting into water, slowly evaporating into nothing as one would expect.

The cursed knights rotated slowly to counteract our circular movement, keeping their obstructive shields prepared to repel whoever was courageous or incautious enough to deliver the first strike, though they remained stationary in the defensive formation. My eyes surveyed the surroundings to assess what other threats we should be aware of. Archimedes had already clarified that the liches were unable to divert their attention away from the ritual and Thorshak had confidently returned to the role of supervision, now that the guards were there to keep us occupied. Sean was the inpredictable factor in this conflict. He seemed eager to see the knights in action, yet if he noticed a gap in our own defenses, he would surely interfere to exploit it. Igor, Yaegar and even Jarle had no idea what that man was capable of. Someone ought to keep a watchful eye on him and no one seemed more suitable for this task than me, yet I had witnessed first hand how the undead coyote was capable of high velocity once he engaged a target. Perhaps his position would render me unable to act in time to intervene with the assault.

Yaegar's astuteness was predictably overshadowed by a decline of patience as he suddenly rushed to attack the closest knight prematurely, completely disregarding the instructive advice provided by Archimedes, closely followed by Igor who seemingly just waited for someone else to take the initiative. Neither of them had found a weakness to exploit and their flurry of blows struck the target's shield with unbendable zeal, as if they expected the steel would eventually fall apart from the physical punishment, yet their efforts were naught but a major waste of energy. While the shield absorbed all the attacks with no dent left behind, the knight slowly pulled its arm back and raised the colossal mace high, ready to retaliate and doom the rash assailants. Jarle noticed this and shouted, ordering the runts to get out of the way. Through the haze of frenzy, they heeded his warning, leaping away in the last possible second as the mace was swung and sweeped horizontally in a wide arc. The knight was open and vulnerable but only momentarily. This was the opportunity I had waited for. Since blocking an attack powered by such might was undeniably a surrealistic accomplishment, the shield had been placed on my back again so that I could swing the axe with both hands for double carnage. My fingers locked onto the haft of the weapon and then I charged at the incapacitated adversary, flanking the knight from the left and bashing it with all my accumulated strength in one blow. The impact was comprehensive enough to elavate the knight's one foot from the ground and knock it out of balance, convincing me that they were not completely insusceptible to physical inflictions. If only the five of us could collaborate to topple a knight, we could possibly obliterate it effectively while it was helplessly sprawled out on the ground.

The other knight clearly desired to interfere with our assault, yet it hesitated, stalled by the imminent risk of inflicting harm upon its malignant ally when we were this close. This was a concern which I could partially relate to, since the range of my own weapon was relatively substantial when used to perform broad swings, which made me conceive an idea which could convert their greatest advantages into potent threats towards themselves. We just needed someone more swift and flexible than me to pull it off. I glanced towards Jarle and saw it in his eyes that he had come up with the same plan as myself. My eyes signaled him to engage the enemy, which he was eager to oblige. Armed with a bearded hand axe in each hand, the elderly barbarian daringly leapt into the fray and positioned himself between the large knights, swinging the axes at the undamaged foe in a state of sheer frenzy. The clash of steel against steel released sparks with each impact. Jarle's attacks lacked the power to significantly injure the target, yet the rapid blows stressed the knight and coaxed it to respond with a riposte against its better judgment. What remained for me was to hope that his dimwitted scouts would not interfere with the attack and thus put all three of them in danger.

Even while being subjected to a fierce assault, the knight obstinately attempted to preserve the state of reluctance, yet it was eventually compelled to disregard the safety of its ally and retaliate. Jarle noticed that the adversary pulled its arm back to counter with the gigantic blade. The blade was swung, in a broad arc, thick and heavy enough to slice and crush a target at the same time. Jarle adroitly leapt out of the way and dodged the blow with ease, and just as we had anticipated, the incapacitated knight was in no condition to pull off such a feat; it was a clean hit. The gigantic blade struck the knight with such massive force that jagged fragments of metal scattered in all directions, sharp enough to rend flesh and soft fabric upon contact, a fact which pressured us to back off for our own sake. Morbidly satisfactory, the attack was so comprehensive that some of the torso and the entire arm wielding the shield had been severed off. A thick substance oozed from the undead corpse concealed inside the dark armor, reeking far away of death and decay, severed intestines partially broken down by rot. Igor and Yaegar seemed terrified by the repugnant exhibition of guts. During our tussle with these undead guardians, a short and enchanted sword was suddenly hurled from behind and passed right between the large knights, eventually wound up with the blade deeply stuck in the skull of a lich attending the ritual. Although a skull penetrated by a sword would be fatal to any mortal, the lich was devoid of vital organs to harm and thus remained continuously animate, yet the enchantment contained a nasty surprise. The lich and even the blade stuck in its skull were completely obliterated by a frigid explosion induced by the enchantment, bones flying everywhere, leaving us with one less attendant to perform the ritual.

Archimedes: Two birds with one stone! One lich destroyed and I finally found a purpose for that dysfunctional sword.
Raksasha: You are hopeless.
Thorshak: Protect the liches, you incompetent dolts, protect the liches! You have been idle long enough, Sagard. Get in there and do something.
Sean: If I must.

Well, crap. Sean advanced to engage in combat, and just as I predicted, he was too far away for me to thwart his assault. He used his dark powers to surge swiftly towards an unsuspecting target, zigzagged with incredible coordination between the two large knights blocking his way, then bashed Igor across the unprotected torso with his intimidatory spiked mace. The impact knocked Igor back and had him tumble across the floor, yet Sean intended to exploit the peak of his momentum to strike again, immediately surging towards Archimedes. Archimedes was not entirely unfamiliar with the fallen cleric's capabilities and unorthodox combat style, so he cast a peculiar spell which emitted smoke from his palm, rendering his body momentarily ethereal. The spiked mace was swung but went right through him as if he was a ghost; clever trick. His spell only lasted for a couple of seconds so the wizard made sure to retreat before the effects wore off and his body once again materialized. Sean uttered a low grunt of frustration before he surged toward the next target, this time being Yaegar who did not have the reflexes or brain cells to parry the cane of an irate dotard. This compelled him to dash through the chamber and come closer to me, providing me the opportunity to intervene. The only vexation on my mind was, why Yaegar? Why could it not have been someone else, anybody else? Life reeks sometimes. Nevertheless, Sean had to be stopped before it got out of hand so I did not neglect to do the right thing. Timed with great exactness, I stepped in and blocked his spiked mace with the haft of Harkan's Cleaver. Igor slowly rose further away, bewildered, puncture wounds across his chest.

Igor: Oh crap, cannot breathe. Pretty sure I am dying or something.
Yaegar: I knew you would fall for my good looks and charm soon enough, Kamekha, the sight of me usually makes women swoon.
Raksasha: Do not flatter yourself. I would not let any undead abomination rob me of the pleasure to disembowel you myself.
Archimedes: Who the heck is “Kamekha?”
Sean: You bitch... get out of my way!
Raksasha: You first.

With our weapons locked together in a struggle, I raised my foot and kicked the cleric's torso, causing him to stumble backwards. He snorted and stared at me with an unmistakable gleam of despite in his eye. We were about to engage in combat again when the ground suddenly stirred, quaked by an underground rumble. Tiny pieces of rubble fell from the ceiling and drummed on my broad shoulders. The lid on the sarcophagus rattled, eventually shaking with increasing intensity. Thorshak triumphantly expressed his elation and his voice made me wince.

Thorshak: Yes! The time is nigh. Rise, Barkur the Ravager, vanguard of darkness. The dark emperor beckons you. Pledge yourself to his cause, restore your pride and unleash your vengeance upon the living!
Igor: Whatever lurks in that sarcophagus, I do not really want to know.
Yaegar: Me neither. I have estimated that Jarle, the magical fellow and the large chick can take it from here; would you not agree?
Igor: Surely so, I would not argue with such a keen observation. They clearly have everything under control and we are just in the way.
Jarle: What is going on over there? Do no dare to abandon your...!
Yaegar: Retreat!
Igor: Flee while you can!
Jarle: Piteous runts.

They were certainly not bluffing; Igor and Yaegar fled and with great haste. Jarle sighed but remained by our side. The three of us regrouped at the center of the chamber and prepared ourselves for the worst. I was positive that the infernal powers summoned to conduct this ritual would soon cause the chamber to collapse, perhaps the entire structure as well. The stony lid on the sarcophagus was suddenly launched into the air and shattered on the ceiling, heavy lumps of rubble falling down around the disturbed grave. Barkur slowly rose and sat up in the sarcophagus, his chemically embalmed body remarkably preserved through the application of mummification, although the majority of his body was wrapped up in brown and dirty bandages. This was once a mortal man like anybody else, yet unrealistic as it may seem, his brawny physique and size in general was slightly superior in comparison to my own. Not many could boast of that and he was guaranteed to become a rampaging juggernaut on the battlefield. The situation looked grim yet not necessarily hopeless. He was still weak from the resurrection, so if we struck hard and fast, we would still be able to destroy him before his true powers were allowed to prime. I was quite prepared to sacrifice my life for the greater good. It did not matter if I was pulverized by the large knights, overwhelmed by the cleric's incredibly speed or crushed underneath a collapsed ceiling, if only I could reach Barkur first and end his terror before it even began. Archimedes suddenly teleported in front of Jarle and me. A brief incident of confusion grazed me. He looked back at me with apologetic eyes. The lemur reached back and rested a slender hand on both Jarle and I. Our bodies gradually dissolved into nothing and so did his. He was teleporting us all away; but Barkur was still alive. The bastard had still not been terminated. Kastellos, you wretched idiot! What have you done?