The StormWatch Chronicles
As seen through the eyes of Drano Battlehammer
Part 8
Update: 21/04/1998 to drano

October 5th, 596

Well, friends - It has taken this long for me to recover from my many wounds. Our latest campaign was 
beyond difficult and, regrettably, a failure. It served as a reminder, these past few days, that we are indeed 
mortal. The actions we take, however small, have serious repercussions in ways we may at first 
misinterpret or fail to understand. The tale I am about to tell you is the latest adventure of my companions, 
StormWatch, and select members of the barony of Eastwyck.

I awoke to a gentle shaking; little Chastity's furry fingers were gently (or was that roughly?) shaking this 
poor, old dwarf awake. The sun was shining through the windows of our cabin in the town of Ravenholt. 
Birds were twittering in the trees. Other members of StormWatch were busy bustling about, and the cloying 
smell of late summer flowers in bloom came wafting to my nostrils.  All in all, the worst possible 
combination of things for this dwarf to wake to. I think someone on the team urged Chastity to wake me, 
because it is so very hard to be upset at that innocent smiling face, even first thing in the morning. After a 
few soft words and gentle proddings, the passive Sarr-woman finally spewed forth in a commanding tone, 
"Drano! Get your fat, lazy Dwarven butt outta bed! We've got things to do!" A knowing smirk from Gabriel 
told me he was amused. . . .

We prepared our things, knowing we would be on a weeklong trek. Members of the court of Eastwyck 
arrived in ones and twos. Among them were Sir Victdar, Baroness Ganthe, Squire Bailiwick, Kano, 
Mastorium, Malace, and Tatiana. Baroness Ganthe and Squire Bailiwick sat down and began to brief us. 
They are a powerful healer and mage, respectively, as well as fine leaders, and we gave them our full 
attention. The Baroness explained that we were after a magical cup -- some sort of long, lost artifact -- that 
would help us defeat the Death Knight, Nikijo. I'm not sure how a little drinking vessel can stop one of the 
world's most powerful death knights, but then, I've seen stranger things in my day.

Chastity gave Gabriel a quick kiss goodbye, saying she would wait for him. We finished packing the mules 
with provisions and set off. Sir Victdar led the way, telling us that the place we were going was a small 
cemetery in the hills of Volta. Apparently, there was some sort of gateway to Nikijo's realm in the 
cemetery. The weather, as I said, was beautiful, and it held up for the entire trip. We spent our days chatting 
about this and that, and our evenings telling fireside tales and drinking fine ale. It was during one of these 
tales that we heard a little more of Nikijo. A Death Knight is too small a name for him. He can also hurl 
magics and use poisons. A truly scary individual, he has become the incarnation of nightmares.

After many days traveling in the delightful company of Eastwyck, we arrived at the cemetery. A small one, 
it was, with a little wrought- iron gate that opened on rusty hinges. It creaked loudly as we opened it, 
showing us a dusty path leading through moss-covered stones and tall, ugly, brown weeds. We headed up 
the path to a decrepit-looking crypt. The door was sealed, but a couple of our strongest warriors managed 
the feat of opening it. We peered into the small chamber, then followed Gabriel in as he led the way with 
his sword.

The sun was just setting as the rest of us went into the crypt. The sky turned purple and, when the last of us 
was about to enter, I noticed the raven. Perched atop an old, crumbling headstone, it regarded me with 
intelligent eyes, warning me to turn back. As is the way with most of my race, however, I thought only that 
the fine bird could be prepared for a meal, and moved on with dreams of roast crow dancing through my 
head.

Inside the tomb, all was quiet. The twenty of us searched thoroughly, but found nothing except for 
cobwebs, dust, and a single, large coffin. The old coffin was made of stone and carved with strange runes. 
It radiated power, though, so with consent of the Baroness, Sir Victdar and Tatiana bent to the task of 
removing the lid. We stood by anxiously, as the muscles in their backs rippled and pulsed. Veins stood out 
on their necks and foreheads and beads of sweat dripped upon the cold, stone floor. The only sounds were 
the labored breathing and grunts of exertion coming from the struggling duo.

Finally, like a newborn lizard egg cracking open, the coffin gave up its secrets to us. With a sonorous 
boom, the slate lid hit the granite floor. In the deafening silence that followed, one could almost hear the 
expressions on our faces tell the tale of what we saw as we peered into the coffin, and into another world. 
Inside the coffin was a mist, not unlike the thick one that rolls across a lake in early morning. Just barely 
visible was a stairway leading down.

One by one, we steeled ourselves to pass beyond. Down the stairs we went. The mist was apparently the 
portal, which we were to take, to get us to Nikijo's realm. Passing through it jumbled our senses so that we 
ended up going down the stairs into the coffin, but emerged from the other side going up. We took a 
moment to adjust our eyes to the new light, and get our bearings. The sight we saw then, was indeed the 
thing of nightmares. 

The land was bleak. It was as if the earth had suffered from a year of drought. Only brown grass and weeds 
remained. Thorn bushes and briars crawled their way along the terrain, and the sky was a midnight black. 
Uninterrupted by starlight, the black curtain of sky was shattered only by the pale rays of a full, orange 
moon. This cast an eerie light on the barren landscape that was marred only by the gravestones. Literally 
millions of them, there were! The headstones lay side-by-side in every direction and stretched as far as the 
eye could see. Ancestors of ancestors. People so long ago forgotten, that only an elves' great grandfather 
may have known who they were. We were in the middle of a graveyard the size of Volta!

Peering quickly around, I watched in astonishment as the portal proceeded to close behind us! Our presence 
had been discovered! Just then, a scream shattered the silence like a hundred glasses breaking all at once. 
Squire Bailiwick's warning was echoed by other members of the group that were able to find their voices to 
scream. All around us, from every grave, rose a body. Undead, in numbers we could barely fathom, were 
clawing their way out of the ground and turning to stare at us with empty eye-sockets and maggots 
dropping from their half-rotten flesh. A low hum started from nowhere, so low we felt it rumbling in our 
bellies, more than heard it, and the legions of Nikijo's undead army began shambling toward us.

I've seen more dead and undead in my day than most people's entire generations will see in their lifetimes. 
With this knowledge and experience, I knew that this could very well be my last endeavor. With that, I 
dropped the Hammer of Thunderbolts from my shoulder to the ready position, and prepared to do battle as 
the dwarves of clan Battlehammer are known for.

Gabriel and Daereth simultaneously drew their blades. Perhaps it was the reassuring ring of steel, or the 
action of drawing a weapon that snapped something in all of us, but whatever it was, it worked. Cynesra 
was the first to recover her composure, and with a cool, almost serene voice, said, "StormWatch! 
Eastwyck! Let's do it."

The Baroness recovered and quickly rallied her court to her. Daereth and Sir Victdar, flanked by Gabriel, 
Tatiana, Delahr and Cynesra formed our wall to the front. Backing them were the long polearms of Kano 
and Borax. Walls of Force were quickly erected behind us, forming a large box from which there could be 
no attack on our rear. Squire Bailiwick, Mastorium, and Malace would provide spell power to our front 
line, while The Baroness and I would play very supportive roles, firing spells and providing healing when 
needed, and standing in with our weapons when one of our fighters needed a rest. This would not be a fight 
from which we could run or retreat. It would be the combined forces of StormWatch and Eastwyck's finest 
hour.

The hordes of undead came at us then. In waves, they threw themselves upon the points of our wall of 
blades. Malace was the foremost authority on undead destruction, and with him, the firepower of Delahr's 
and Squire Bailiwick's celestial magics burned holes through the oncoming masses of skeletal beings. 
Gabriel's and Daereth's blades went into a dance of whirling destruction, and I now know what is meant 
when they are called "Whirlwinds of Destruction." Sir Victdar's feet never moved from where they were 
firmly planted, and the line never wavered.

The undead fell in droves, like wheat to the scythe. But the numbers were simply too much. The pile of 
destroyed undead rose higher and higher, until we were literally fighting an uphill battle. But still, they 
came on. Clawing their way over their fallen brethren, the abominations continued to pick at us. 

Finally, after hours of struggle that seemed like days, the first of us fell. I'm not sure exactly how it got 
through. Perhaps it climbed over its dead allies to scamper over the wall behind us. By the time we noticed 
it was too late. The Baroness' sharp shriek of pain startled me. I turned and saw the glowing eyes. The red-
and-black-faced death knight was grinning evilly as her blood dripped from its blade. A bellow of rage 
escaped me as I unloaded everything I had into it. I tried destroying it and harming it with earth spells. I 
tried all of the precious healing I had left. I even used the thunderbolts from the Hammer to bring it down. 
All to no avail. It phased through and resisted most of the spells. Then it was upon me, and it was all I 
could do to keep it's blows from touching me. I blocked with a desperate speed that I've never thought I 
had, but a strong blow landed, nonetheless. Then another, and another, and another. 

At last I lay on my back. My strength spent, one of my arms gone, and my life ebbing slowly back into the 
earth from whence I came, I stared almost gratefully up into the black sky, knowing it was my time. The 
sounds of battle and cries of pain slowly receded from my ears until they sounded very far away. I turned 
my head and saw the pale face of the Baroness, once proud, staring lifelessly into nothing. I thought, "She 
didn't even know my name". Then I realized, through the fog, that we now shared something that would 
create a bond of sorts in whatever life came after this one. We all would have that same bond; the bond of 
warriors dying bravely in battle together for a just cause. 

And then, like the sounds, my view of her face began to swim. A darkness began closing in around my 
vision, shutting out the last view of my life. My head lolled back to stare up at the sky. But all I saw was 
two glowing eyes. . . .