Session 0028 : A Sword for my Life

The battle with the troll had finally ended — a brutal, exhausting ordeal that left the party bloodied and drained. With the creature’s regenerating corpse now smoldering thanks to Dorian’s timely use of flame, the group took refuge in the darkness of the ruin, catching their breath and nursing wounds.   A long rest was declared. Weapons were cleaned. Spells were prepared. The creeping dread of the deep was temporarily pushed back. It seemed they were at last ready to return to the surface.   Just as the party began to make their way toward the exit shaft, intending to ascend back to the world above, Dorian moved to check the southern door — the last remaining egress before the climb.   The door creaked open. What he saw first was not the intruder, but the aftermath: a vampire — one of the delusional actors from the old troupe they had encountered below — impaled with a blade so cleanly that the steel protruded from his chest like a silver tongue. The undead creature’s lips still quivered as it gasped in disbelief, the mockery of its undead form twitching in its final, disbelieving death throes.   Then the silhouette behind it shifted.   A Skeletal Knight, clad in rusted but imposing armor, was revealed. Its eyes glowed with an eerie inner fire, hollow sockets locked onto Dorian. Without a word, the knight stepped forward over the crumpled body of the vampire and into the room.   Before Dorian could react, more followed.   Zephyr, ever quick-thinking, unleashed a spell of transformation — a Polymorph — and managed to turn one of the advancing knights into a frog. The grotesque armored form melted into a squat, bewildered amphibian, hopping in confusion among the bones of its own armor.   But the second knight was undeterred. Lilly, bracing herself near the corridor entrance, conjured Entangling vines from the cracked flagstone beneath the knight’s feet. The roots burst through the ground, clutching at the undead warrior’s limbs, holding him fast—if only for a moment. With a sickening wrench of force and magic, the knight tore free, splintering the vines with brute strength and unholy vigor.   The party turned to flee, retreating toward the chamber with the three statues, hoping to regroup and possibly mislead their pursuer.   But the hallways of the ruin were narrow and treacherous. As they ran, Lilly stumbled on a broken stone and collided with Cathlynn, sending them both sprawling. Thinking quickly, Lilly shifted into her spider form, scrambling up Cathlynn’s back and perching on her shoulder like a living cloak.   Dorian was already ahead, weaving between the statues. Lev turned back, unwilling to leave the others behind. As he stood between the knight and his companions, sword raised in defiance, the Skeletal Knight paused.   It didn't attack.   Instead, it raised a bony hand, curled its fingers... and snapped.   The sound echoed in the chamber like a judge's gavel. Then, with deliberate clarity, it pointed to Lev’s silver sword — the weapon glinting faintly with divine light — and then down to the stone floor.   The meaning was clear: Relinquish the blade.   Lev hesitated. The knight could have struck him down… but didn’t. A strange, intelligent awareness flickered behind its hollow eyes. The message was clear: surrender, or die.   Reluctantly, Lev placed the sword on the ground. He knew they would not win this fight — not here, not now. Whatever these creatures were, they were not mindless skeletons. They were disciplined, driven… and perhaps even bound by purpose rather than malice.   The knight stepped forward and retrieved the sword, then stood aside.   The party took the moment and fled up the central shaft, scrambling toward the exit. The cool night air of the surface struck them like a blessing. With hearts pounding, they emerged through the old stone portal, back into the waking world.   Behind them, the ruins fell silent once more.   But the memory of glowing eyes and the sound of that chilling snap lingered.