OG: Chapter 36

The Corridor we tread down was likewise filled with mangled corpses, though these ones were better equipped than the ones that we had found in the Courtyard. Instead of a simple Sleeved Mail Coat and Scimitar, these had the whole blot. Sleeved Mail Coats, Mail Leggings, Plate Gauntlets, and Tall, Knightly Helms, plus Shortbows, Shields, and either a Horseman's Axe or Scimitar of their own. All of these are of Good Quality, even if they weren't of the finest quality. These were Sipahis, the famed Arabyan Knights who clashed with the best of the Military Orders of the Old World time and again and came out on top in roughly half the battles fought.

Of course, it was rare to find someone with a full set of kit, just due to the mangling that had occurred, but if I had to guess what could and could not be salvaged from the carnage, I would say enough good-quality equipment to equip perhaps Thirty Sipahis could be salvaged from this massacre. That was maybe from half of the corpses that clogged the left-hand wing of the Alcazar Proper. The total Guilder value of it all was roughly around twenty-four-thousand-three-hundred-ninety Guilders, which, sold at a third of the price thanks to being ancient battlefield salvage and Van Rijn being a greedy Marienburger, meant eight-thousand-one-hundred-thirty Guilders for the lot, divided by four was roughly two-thousand-thirty-two Guilders and ten Stuivers apiece for myself and my companions. Which meant all of us stood to make at least six-thousand-five-hundred-eighty-two Guilders and ten Stuivers each, at least from the salvage we'd gathered so far.

"Hey, what are you looking at?" Questioned Anders.

"I was tallying just how much money we could get from selling off the usable equipment we could scrounge from here." I answered.

"And?" Queried Ruggiero, interested.

"Not as much as you might be hoping for. The problem is twofold. The first is that, though it's all good quality, it's also all ancient stuff that we salvaged out of a literal tomb. The second is Van Rijn himself. Because of the first factor, Van Rijn is likely going to want to shortchange us on the salvage. We might get maybe a third, perhaps a bit more, of its value. He'll then turn around and sell it to his allies in House De Roelef for two-thirds the value, and House De Roelef will sell it for its full value back in Marienburg." I explained.

"Which means everyone in the chain makes more money than we do." Muttered Martine

"It's just how Marienburg works. You didn't think they became the Leading Trade Power in the Old World by being fair, did you?" I asked.

"Still. It would be nice not to be cheated like that." Grumbled Ruggiero.

"That's life. Humans only act for the benefit of others when it's also in their best interest to do so. You might as well get used to it, because I don't see Humanity changing that facet of itself any time soon." Scowled Martine.

"I don't know if that's the case. There were plenty of people in the Village where Wisdom Brauer had his home who helped each other when it was needed." Pointed out Anders.

"Is that a fact?" Questioned Martine.

"Where did you live?" Queried Ruggiero.

"A small village of Foresters about a day's ride northwest of Sochtenau called Fichtenholz." Answered Anders.

"Did you perhaps think that maybe the reason the people of Fichtenholz aided each other when needed was due to the fact that if they didn't work together, the village would be destroyed by Beastmen or Sacked by Greenskins coming out of the woods?" Asked Martine.

"It was more than that. People were kind to one another. Enough so that even when some neighboring villages had deaths from starvation in the winter, Fichtenholz shared its food communally so that everyone made it through." Pointed out Anders.

"Sounds like a fairy story. Nobody is that altruistic, not at their core." Scoffed Ruggiero.

As the argument continued, however, I made my way further down the corridor, Radamenes at my side, to find a trio of rooms at the end. One was clearly a storage room of some kind, as various moldy crates, barrels of stagnant water, and casks of wine that had long since turned to vinegar could attest. If I entered that room, there was clearly a chance to breathe in Mold Spores, and that by itself would invite Nurgle's Rot. Fortunately, I had a solution to this in the form of an alchemical Purgative. I had brewed a few up, just in case I needed to purge my body of any poisons or diseases that picking around in the tomb of a City might make for. At the same time, my optics were made of advanced polymers that just looked like flesh thanks to Vulcan's Divine Magic, rather than actually being made of flesh, meaning that spores in my eyes were not a viable infection vector.

I pulled the Vial of Dark Brownish Toxin Purgative out of my satchel and kept it ready before reaching into my satchel for some cloth strips that I had made in case we ran out of alchemical healing items and needed to use bandages. I tied those cloth strips around my nose and mouth in a crude mask, ordered Radamenes to stay in the corridor, and headed into the storehouse. I would be glad I did, because, as soon as I made it past the moldy barrels and stagnant water, My Implants indicated that I had avoided breathing in any spores as I had my Mechanicus Cranial Implants check myself out for contamination, as if they were an Antivirus Program checking a computer for Malware. Once I had come up clean, I continued to the back of the storage area, past a rack of rusty and decayed spears, past a row of rusted pot helmets and mail coats, and found a large chest that didn't seem to be too badly degraded.

The chest was locked, of course, but Locksmithing was something I could do thanks to my powers, and it only took me a few minutes to pick the rather large, black iron lock. Honestly, the lock was so old that it was probably brittle with age, and I could have simply snapped it off with a good enough whack. I didn't care enough to do that, however, and as soon as I had the lock picked, I opened the chest to find a trio of extraordinary items. A Silk Arabyan Carpet dyed with Saffron Orange, Ultramarine Blue, and Carmine Red Dyes, woven in an intricate pattern, and interweaved with cloth of gold threads and tassles was rolled up, tied shut with a silken rope dyed Tyrian Purple, both pinged off my Mystic Radar and I realized that this was both an Arabyan Flying Carpet and an Arabyan Enchanted Rope. At the same time, there was something deeper in the chest that the pair of items was covering up, which was a lot more magical to my Mystic Radar.

Digging deeper into the Chest, I found a false bottom, and, finding the latch to pry it up, came back with a sigil-scribed Myrrhwood Puzzle Box that glowed like a Christmas tree to my Mystic Senses even though the Flying Carpet and Enchanted Rope were right there. As I opened the compartment, clicking a few panels at random, I spied a number of Amber Gemstones humming with what had to be the Wind of Ghur, just there. It was an Arabyan Puzzle Box, one of the most sought-after Artifacts that you could find from Araby, alongside Flying Carpets and Enchanted Ropes. I felt that if I could figure out the correct sequence of panels to press, I would be capable of using this Puzzle Box to cast Local Spells.

This was invaluable, and I was not going to give it up quite as easily as I might give up the Flying Carpet or Enchanted Rope. I stashed the Puzzle Box in my Satchel, hefted the Flying Carpet bound by the Enchanted Rope over my shoulders, and plunged back out through the area filled with moldy boxes and dangerous spores. As soon as I was back in the Hallway, I closed the door, set down the Flying Carpet and Enchanted Rope, ripped off the bandages, and downed the Alchemical Toxin Purgative, just in case.

The Mystical Liquid seared down my throat, attracting any toxins inside my body that weren't already metaphysically part of me. This meant that while it should get rid of any mold spores, poisons, or diseases, it should, in theory, avoid mucking with my Cybernetic and Chemical Enhancements of course, the part after this was never fun, as the purgative part of the Alchemical Toxin Purgative kicked in and I bent over, hunched with my hands on my knees as I began to throw up bile tinged with foul black substances, the metaphysical aspect of the toxins in my body. I made sure to aim away from the Flying Carpet and Enchanted Rope, however, which was good, because I doubted that Van Rijn would pay for such items if they had bile and toxin fluid spattered all over them.

After a minute or two, my heaves stopped and I straightened up, to find the others looking at me with concern. Radamenes, however, just rolled his eyes. Clearly, he had seen Kostek do this before I had come along to bodyjack him. I nodded at the others as they approached, wiping my mouth on one of the cloth bandages.

"What was that about?" Questioned Martine.

"Alchemical Toxin Purgative. Needed to purge any mold spores I may have accidentally ingested, breathed in, or otherwise picked up by entering that storeroom." I informed.

"Mold Spores? Are you all right? I know you said that you purged the Toxins, but the Lord of Pestilence has been known to be capable of circumventing such measures. Would you consent to my checking you over?" Queried Anders.

"Once we return to Alynda, I have no problems with that. I don't know if we have the time to do that in the field, however." I answered.

"More to the point, what are those?" Asked Ruggiero.

"That is an Arabyan Flying Carpet and an Arabyan Enchanted Rope, two Arabyan Artifacts for which Van Rijn will pay us a great deal of cash." I grinned.

That caught everyone's attention in a big way. Honestly, between all the stuff we'd found so far, and now the flying carpet, it was likely that we'd have to make multiple trips to and from Zarwai to haul it all back to Van Rijn's Trade Post in Alynda, even with the Vardo and Strigany Pony we'd gotten from helping out Ion and Lavinia of the Solimance Clan of Strigany. And that was just with what we'd run across so far. It was likely that with this much money on the table, each of us would be able to buy a Noble Title in Khypris City from Prince Harmis Detz. By the time everyone was finished salivating over the possibilities, we had begun to move on, determined to check the rest of the rooms at the end of the Corridor.

The room that was on the left-hand wall turned out to lead to another corridor, snaking back along the side of the courtyard until it eventually branched off into the Corridor that was exposed to the Courtyard Cavern where the Skaven had emerged from. Accordingly, the closer we got to that open Courtyard Corridor, the more filth-encrusted and wrecked up everything was. There were doors that were rusted shut that we dared not open, lest some Ratlike Plague or Plume of Warpstone Dust emerge from the rusty, filth-crusted doorways. Just past the Open Corridor, I could see a partially-collapsed stable that looked to have been turned into some kind of literal Rat's Nest, with foul sigils of the inverted, equilateral triangle strewn up here and there, made of scrap wood and twine, the Sigil of the Skaven Under-Empire.

As we turned back, I resolved to return with more incendiaries to cleanse that Skaven Nest and this whole corridor in cleansing flame. It was the only way to be sure that nothing would happen from coming into contact with all this literal and metaphorical Skaven Shit. Regardless, as we checked the other doorway, we found it was locked. A few moments with her lockpicks later, and Martine had the door open, revealing a spiral stone staircase leading up. I nodded at the others and mounted the steps, volunteering to go first, Radamenes close behind me. Fortunately, no other attackers leaped out at me unless you counted the corpses of the pair of Plate-Clad Arabyan Troops that lay at the top of the steps, their faces caved in by brute force and their tall helmets wrecked accordingly.

These Arabyan Jannisaries would have been the most professional infantry available to Suleiman the Stout, clad in Full Suits of Plate Armor, Tall, Knightly Helms, and bearing Scimitars and Shields of the Finest Quality. They were quite literally the personal guard of the Grand Vizier, and whatever had attacked Zarwai in the aftermath of the City's Celebration had enough strength to utterly tear them apart. I meant that literally in some cases, as I saw these two were far from alone, and the upper corridor was littered with Janissary Corpses. Of course, it was almost all unusable. Some of the plates were blasted apart, along with the chests of the users as if by mystical force, while others were just straight up torn asunder as if pulled apart by sheer strength. All told, we could maybe get ten full panoplies out of here, out of sixty corpses. A tenth of the salvage on offer, which, running the numbers, adjusting for selling at a third of the full price, and split four ways, was equal to another four-thousand-fifty Guilders for each of us, bringing us up to ten-thousand-six-hundred-thirty-two Guilders and ten Stuivers each so far for this undertaking.

Given that purchasing a noble title from Prince Harmis Detz of Khypris cost Ten Thousand Guilders, we would all be more than capable of doing so by the time we got out of here. Part of the Reason that Van Rijn's offer was so attractive was because several lordships had become available, the Lords that Harmis Detz had previously put in place dying to violence, mishap, old age, or bad luck. There were four Lordships currently available. Those lordships were for the Baronies of Cabanal, Alynda, Mantreba, and the recently established Port of Donkerzee at the Mouth of the Tana Dante River, which had been established during Prince Faramond's Time as Prince of Khypris with the aid of the De Roelef Family Trade Network.

Of course, the Baronies of Aldium and Vimera both still have their Barons, with Baron Calvino Gonzarini of Aldium being far more secure in his position in control of the Trading City than Baron Armando Espinoza of Vimera was in his quarrying, mining, and logging town in the hills. Actually, calling Vimera a town was an insult to towns. It was actually a lot more like a glorified village. I was willing to bet that when problems came up, Vimera would be the first of the small, Petty-Baronies of the Principality of Khypris to suffer. I wouldn't want to be Baron of Vimera, nor, come to think of it, would I want to be Baron of Donkerzee. There had been rumors that the previous Baron, Reinhardt Schulmann, had been assassinated on the orders of the De Roelef family for wanting more of the trade revenues of Donkerzee than he was getting.

Just then, Radamenes brushed up against my thigh and jolted me out of my thoughts. I looked up and saw the others had made their way onto the second floor, since I hadn't been killed or attacked or anything. They had started to check various doors and such, finding a number of interesting things, as well as a few more disturbing things. The corpses of two children, their necks snapped while they had been asleep, and their nursemaid's skull caved in as if by a mace, had been one of those disturbing things, of course, but they had also come back with other things that were far better for our coinpurses and sanity than dead kids.

Ruggiero had returned with more jewelry, obtained from a set of rooms that had to be the Harem, or living quarters, of the Grand Vizier's Wife and Concubines. Meanwhile, Anders seemed to have found a trio of crystal glass balls that were colored with the various colors of the Winds of Magic in a storeroom along with a Second Enchanted Arabyan Rope and Flying Carpet. These were Arabyain Windglasses, which could be shattered to temporarily stop all magic from being cast in an area around where they had been broken, thanks to disrupting the Winds of Magic.

As to the jewelry Ruggiero had found, there were ten pieces of individual jewelry. Two Gold and Ruby Rings, a pair of Electrum Hairpins with Emerald Ornamentation, an Ivory Comb studded with Sapphires, a Silver Mirror Inlaid with Amethyst, Two Strings of Pearls, one Regular, the other Black, a Gold and Amber Bracelet. Enough here to net all of us another two-thousand-one-hundred-seventy-five Guilders and ten Stuivers each, bringing our total take from Salvage Alone to Twelve-Thousand-Eight-Hundred-Eight Guilders per person in total before even counting artifacts.

Of course, it was Martine who found the most interesting thing. She had found a broken-down barricade that had led into a storeroom with a corpse that was clad in a bevy of equipment that lit up in my magic senses like a Christmas Tree. The corpse was missing its head, mind you, but from the relatively light equipment, as well as the fact that it was all magic, I would say we were looking at the Corpse of Ali Al-Sariq, the King of Thieves of El-Khabbath during the Crusades. On saying so, Martine immediately moved to begin looting him of anything useful while Anders stood by to identify the items.

It turned out that Ali Al-Sariq carried leather armor, which would grant moderate boosts to strength and toughness and a major boost to speed, along with a pair of Gloves of Nimbleness which not only boosted the wearer's skills with thievery but also boosted the wearer's manual dexterity quite a bit as well, he also bore a pair of Charcoal Gray Boots of Concealment, which could, with a click of the heels, open an extradimensional storage space to help aid in smuggling, and a pair of Boiled Leather Leggings of Dodging that allowed the bearer to more easily dodge incoming attacks. All of this equipment was also more protective than it had any right to be, edging out my forged Elite Platemail, even.

The biggest find, however, was the Dagger of Swift Death, something that Anders was able to identify the properties of, and that I was able to piece together the proper name for based on having done my research. The Long Fighting Dagger of Dark Iron was specially enchanted not only to aid the wielder in getting the first strike by further boosting their speed, but to magically inject conjured poison into wounds struck with the blade that all but the toughest of mortal combatants would require aid to survive.

"Wow, I wonder how he wound up dead with all this?" Questioned Martine as she almost immediately began donning the Fallen Spymaster's Equipment.

"I think we can find out by reading that." I answered, pointing to the aged, leatherbound tome that was sitting on a table.

"It's in Arabyan, I can't read that." Pointed out Ruggiero.

"Kostek can, remember?" Queried Anders.

"Right, I'll just take a look through there then, shall I?" I asked rhetorically. I was already moving toward the table, after all. I was definitely going to try and read how this had all wound up going tits up. Of course, what I read reminded me more of an apocalyptic survivor's log than a normal journal or diary.

Oh, it started out easy enough, chronicling the embarkation of the Army of El-Khabbath on the ships as they set sail for the Border Princes, dodging opportunistic pirates, Naval Ships from Tilea looking to fight with Arabyan Ships as revenge for the capture of Sartosa and the ongoing siege of Tobaro. However, even if flipping ahead revealed more insight into the Campaigns in the Border Princes, Grand Duchy of Savoie, and Southern Bretonnia, that wasn't what I was reading this for. No, that came toward the end.

The Diary told of the day that Prince Vaclav the Crusader attacked Zarwai and smashed half the troops in the town to shattered pieces, making it all the way to the Siq that guarded the Alcazar and slaying the Grand Vizier, Suleiman the Stout, in single Combat in the Siq before withdrawing what remained of his forces to continue on his journey home. It told of the fight twelve hours later, when the ragged remnant of the forces of El-Khabbath under himself and the Court Fakir, Abdul Ibn Salaf, fought up with the Remnant of Vaclav the Crusader's Forces as they made it to the Tana Dante River, attacking them from surprise. It spoke of Prince Vaclav's bravery to fight on even outmatched, outnumbered, and with the Arabyans having overwhelming magical support from Abdul Ibn Salaf, shattering several of the reconstituted regiments of El-Khabbath with repeated assaults before falling.

The Diary spoke of how he and the Court Fakir had been so moved by the bravery of Prince Vaclav that when the time came to summon Djinni of Earth and Stone to craft a tomb for Grand Vizier Suleiman the Stout and his Aide-De-Camp, his distant cousin Walid Al-Kharzai, Abdul Ibn Salaf had them craft a mausoleum for Prince Vaclav as well, though in that case it was also partially a brag, as such a formidable opponent had been slain by them. By the time the mausoleums were constructed, Morale was suffering amongst the Nobles of Zarwai and the Commanders of the Army of El-Khaddath, and so he and Abdul Ibn Salaf ordered a feast to be held in the Alcazar, before the grim task of burying the masses of dead needed to be organized and carried out.

Then, as the next page was turned, the diary turned from a historical account into the gibbering of a terrified man, his morale and mind shattered by what he had just witnessed. Apparently, the battle in the City had awoken something ancient, something whose skin was hardened like a coat of mail all on its own, whose blows with its bare hands fell like the pounding of an Ogre's Maul, who could rip a fully-armored Sipahi or Janissary in twain with only those bare hands, and, who, when wounded, simply drank the blood of those it attacked and was magically healed. He named the beast Massas Al-Dima, Blood-Drinker, a Vampire, and from the looks of things, one of the originals that crawled out of the unquiet grave of Old Nehekara. Apparently, he had barricaded himself in a storeroom, hoping the beast would pass him by in favor of attacking the Jannisaries in the corridors outside. He would attempt to flee once the sun rose, hoping that the Vampire would be less active during the day.

"I fear that by then, I will be the only one left. We already sent the civilians out of the City after the Attack of the Northerners. It was only our remaining forces, the Nobles, and essential servants left in Zarwai before the Vampire attacked. Should the One God favor me, I will be out of this tomb of a City and to the Territory that Sultan Izzat the Glorious still holds on the Coast to the Southeast in the City of Matorea that was the site of our first Victory in these Northern Lands, by the time that the Beast can catch up with me." I read the last entry out loud.

"Sounds like he planned poorly." Huffed Ruggiero.

"Seems that way, aye." Nodded Anders.

"Well, I don't think we should make the same mistake." Intoned Martine, standing up after fastening the last of her pilfered equipment to herself.

As she said that, however, Radamenes let out a loud growl from where he had been curled up in the corner of the room, standing up and snarling at the bashed-in doorway. I turned to the doorway, but saw nothing. Instead, I chose to borrow Radamenes' sense of hearing and smell for a brief moment and, in so doing, caught a whiff of blood, ocean salt, dust, and bronze. At the same time, I could faintly hear the tapping of armored feet on stone, as if something was making its way up the stone spiral steps toward the second floor. I relinquished my hold on Radamenes' senses shortly afterward.

"Does anyone else hear that?" I questioned.

"Hear what?" Queried Ruggiero, frowning as he drew his Silver Dagger and Magic Scimitar.

"Is something coming?" Asked Martine.

"Yeah, I get the feeling we're just about out of options for the time being." I warned.

"The Vampire must be on his way. This was a poor time to be unable to cast more than petty magic." Grumbled Anders.

"Out in the hall. If it corners us in this storeroom, with no way to retreat, we're as good as dead!" I insisted.

I didn't need to tell my Companions twice, and we burst out of the broken-into Storeroom and out into the upstairs corridor. As we did so, I spied the faint gleam of a gold and bronze ornamented Nemes, the kind that a Pharaoh of Ancient Egypt in a sane world would wear, but which on Mundus denoted a Nehekaran of Authority. As we began to retreat back up the corridor, the rest of the Vampire appeared, having made his way up the stone spiral staircase.

His skin was dark black, almost as if carved out of basalt rather than flesh, and I was betting just as hard as well. He wore armor of Gleaming Bronze and bore a scarab-scribed Bronze Shield along with a Bronze, glowing, Khopesh, all of which pinged off my Mystic Radar as heavily magical. His eyes gleamed with a hint of maddened intelligence, as if he wasn't as stable after all these years trapped in here with nothing but Giant Bats, Skaven, and a Rock Troll for company. To be fair, you would be driven mad too if you had that happen to you, but now wasn't the time for empathy with an enemy. As we passed by a corridor that branched off, leading out to what seemed to be a tower of bronze, gold, and copper, where doubtless Abdul Ibn Salaf had made his home, we continued to retreat up the corridor as the Vampire pointed his Khopesh at us.

"You have disturbed my Kingdom and slain my Minions. You shall now learn the folly of your actions. I promise you the lesson will be both painful and final." Intoned the Vampire in Arabyian.

And with that, the Vampire blurred forward, chasing after us, and it became a race to make it away from him before he could do anything to assault us. Fortunately, we were able to make our way down the stone steps of the spiral tower staircase on the other side of the Corridor before the Vampire could reach us, just based on our head start and his taking time to engage in grandstanding earlier. We slammed the iron door shut behind us, barring it as we entered the tower, and a trio of syllables in Druidic later, Anders cast a trio of petty magic spells on the door. No sooner had he done that than the Vampire smashed into the Iron Door with a clanging noise. However, the doorway held firm.

"What did you do?" Questioned Martine.

"I reinforced the Door with Magic." Answered Anders.

"How many of those do you have left in you?" Queried Ruggiero.

"Doesn't matter, I suggest we move, that won't hold the Vampire for very long." I warned.

"Right, come on." Nodded Martine.

As she said that, there was another clang as the door was attempted to be opened by the Vampire. This time, the Iron Door, which was as thick as an Armor Plate on a World War Two Tank and just about as tough thanks to Anders' Reinforcement, shuddered again, groaning under the Vampire's Great Strength. However, we didn't look back, bolting down the stone steps of this other spiral staircase and shutting the next Iron Door behind us, with Anders Once Again reinforcing the Door with Magic.

"Come on, this way, maybe we can lose him down this corridor?" Asked Ruggiero.

"It's worth a shot, I don't know how many more of those I can perform." Cautioned Anders.

"Let's go." I nodded.

And with that, we bolted down the Corridor, passing by dozens more slain Arabyan Spearmen, Warriors, and Bowmen, all with their gear untouched and ready to loot. We left it all be, as there was little point in looting if we would just be killed by a Vampire Lord of some description shortly afterward. We took a blind turn down a random series of corridors as we ran, passing through guardrooms and barracks, all of which had been ransacked with dozens of weapons and pieces of armor scattered about, janking into a hallway where the corpses of two Apprentice Wizards lay, torn in two by the Vampire Lord's Strength, before coming upon the Corpse of Abdul Ibn Salaf.

"Wait, Wait!" Hissed Anders.

"Anders! We don't have time to loot, remember!" I reiterated.

"Come on, we need to lose the Vampire!" Insisted Ruggiero, grabbing Anders by the arm as if to pull him along.

"Wait a moment. Anders, do you see anything on the corpse that will help us in our predicament here?" Questioned Martine.

"Yes, a few things." Nodded Anders.

"Don't leave us in suspense. What do you see?" I queried.

"For starters, this topaz gemstone in this Ring is a Jewel of Power and will let me regain some of my spent mystical energy." Intoned Anders, grabbing the Bronze and Topaz Ring off of the skeletal hand of the long-dead Vizier.

"That's good, what else?" Asked Martine.

"This is a multiple spell ring. See the symbols etched into the gold with enamel? There seems to be some sort of Djinni Magic powering it all, but it will help me actually contribute further. There's also some sort of Djinni Magic powering this Quarterstaff. It grants a whole bunch of extra damage, plus the ability to freeze your opponent on a successful hit. It also might give me the ability to breathe underwater? I don't know, we don't have time for me to check. Lastly, this Robe has more Djinni Magic powering it. It seems to be a Robe of Fire Resistance, a Robe of Toughness, and a Robe of Mist and Smoke all in one. Sort of, there's some modifications to it all that I can't quite figure out right now." Informed Anders.

As he explained, Anders pointed to first, a Gold and Red Enamel Ring, then what seemed to be a Quarterstaff Made of Driftwood, and finally, a Red Leather Robe, stripping the Corpse of Each in Turn. He put the Rings and Robe on in a process that was clearly practiced, taking him less than half a minute to do before Ruggiero nodded at us all.

"All right, fine, let's go." Demanded Ruggiero.

"Right, where to?" Questioned Martine.

"The last place I can think of that might have some upgrades." I answered.

"Which is?" Queried Ruggiero.

"The Catacombs. There was a tomb down there for the Grand Vizier, likely he also had Magical Gear if he was dueling one-on-one against Prince Vaclav the Crusader." I answered.

"I suppose we just head down till we find it, then?" Asked Martine.

"Seems like." Concurred Ruggiero.

"Come on." I intoned, heading down a nearby set of stairs.

We descended down into the bowels of the earth, deeper than the Cavern City, into what seemed to be a Dungeon of some sort, judging by the manacles. Of course, the lack of corpses chained up revealed how unlikely it had been for the Arabyans to take prisoners. If you fought them, you wouldn't get the luxury of Capture unless you had vital intelligence, it seemed. Of course, that was about what I would expect from a War being led by someone who History remembered as Sultan Jaffar the Terrible. We did pass a few skeletons, clad in rags as we made our way through the cells, but that was all.

As we took the next corridor, however, the sort of sight we saw next couldn't be further from the terrors of an Arabyan Dungeon of the Crusades Period. Instead, we passed by a gated-off Vault where piles of coins sat. Arabyan Dinars and Bretonnian Ecu, but with a fair share of Magrittan Reales and Tilean Doubloons as well. All of the coins were in the Old Style, of course, and there must have been at least forty thousand Guilders' worth of them in the vault, enough to give each of us another ten thousand Guilders' worth of profit from this delve. Unfortunately, it wasn't what we were looking for, and though Ruggiero and Martine stopped to gawk, a reminder of the Vampire still loose in the Alcazar got them moving.

Eventually, we made it out of the Vaults and into the Catacombs. Because the Arabyans hadn't buried the majority of their dead yet before the Vampire attacked them, there were only two, one of which was clearly labeled as Suleiman the Stout. Sat nearby, on display, were a number of magical items, a Sleeved Mail Coat that provided protection from Greenskins and Protection from all Non-Magical Weapons, a Breastplate that increased the Wearer's Toughness by a moderate amount, Strength by a Slightly Less Amount, and Speed by a Lot, Gauntlets that provided Protection from Fire and All Mundane Missiles, Mail Leggings that granted the bearer a powerful kicking attack that landed with the strength of a weapon attack alongside a greater ability to dodge incoming attacks, and a helmet that provided a decent-sized boost to Willpower. All of these also came with enchantments that made them more protective than normal, edging out my Elite Platemail by a decent amount.

That wasn't all, however, as alongside the armor was a Sword of a design that wouldn't have been out of place in Sigmar's Day, which glowed with mystic power, not only providing two extra attacks, but also allowing the bearer to land a single blow with the power of a Dragon or Giant once per day. The sword looked like it had been pulled out of an old Barrow somewhere, just from how the blade was shaped. The last time people had regularly used those types of weapons had been back before Sigmar had left his Empire to the Electors to head out to his last-known battle at Black Fire Pass against the Exalted Lord of Change, Sheerargetru.

"You'd best suit up. After all, who knows how much time we bought with our flight?" I questioned rhetorically.

"You don't have to tell me twice." Huffed Ruggiero as he began to don the armor and buckle on the Sword of Grand Vizier Suleiman the Stout.

"How are you doing, Anders?" Queried Martine.

"Better, I have some of my power back, at least, and I can feel spells stored in this Ring, Elementalist ones. Those are generally good for combat." Answered Anders.

"How much time do you think we bought?" I asked.

"Not enough for my liking." Scoffed Ruggiero.

"If it were up to me, we would be far from here by now." Added Martine.

"But then we wouldn't have nearly as much wealth as we will when this is over." Pointed out Anders.

"If we survive, you mean." Frowned Martine.

"Kostek, come help me buckle on this breastplate." Insisted Ruggiero.

"It's been a few years since I've had to help someone else with their armor, but sure." I agreed, moving over to help buckle Ruggiero into his armor.

I had just about gotten him done up when Radamenes let out another, throaty growl, his fur standing up on the back of his neck and down between his shoulders as he glared at the tunnel leading into the Vault Area. That meant we were pretty clearly out of time, though just to check, I once again borrowed Radamenes' sense of smell and hearing. Once more, I caught a whiff of blood, ocean salt, dust, and bronze and heard the tapping of armored feet on stone.

"Get ready, he's coming!" I warned.

"Right." Nodded Ruggiero, putting on his Helmet and drawing both his Silvered Fighting Knife and his brand-new Barrow Blade.

At the same time, I drew the Blade of Dazh's Fury and one of my two pistols, while Martine drew the Dagger of Swift Death and Anders prepared to cast another Lightning Bolt Spell. At my side, Radamenes prepared to pounce. Moments later, Martine must have picked up something because she nodded.

"He's here." She informed.

"I can sense the Dark Magic dripping off him." Confirmed Anders.

Just as he said that, the black-skinned, mystical bronze-clad form of the Vampire Lord who ruled Zarwai stepped forth from the shadows of the Vault Tunnels and into the light cast by the torches that had been lit in the Tomb of Suleiman the Stout. The Vampire Lord bared his fangs at us, letting out a snarl as he pointed his Khopesh at us once again.

"You have led me on a merry chase back toward my own Tomb. Now it is time for me to begin your instruction on why you should not have come to my domain!" Snarled the Vampire Lord in Arabyan.

"I'm the only one here who can understand you, Upyri. Your menacing speeches are lost on the others." I retorted, likewise in Arabyan.

"Is that so? Then you will just have to translate from Arabyan to screams of pain. I am certain that your companions will be able to translate from those just fine." Scowled the Vampire Lord, still in Arabyan.

"I think we're ready for you, now. We weren't before, but a few things have changed." I taunted, again in Arabyan.

"It would be as impossible for you to prepare for one such as myself in such a short time as it would for you to fly to Neru's Domain." Scoffed the Vampire Lord.

"I don't even know who you are." I pointed out.

"You violate my domain and do not even know me? Very well, consider this part of your education. I am the Bitter Death that comes suddenly and slays you without defense! I am the roiling tempest, blowing off the Sea to flense the flesh from your very bones! I am Wadjer! Admiral of Lahmia, Master of the Crystal Sea, Vanquisher of Sebak, and Trueborn Vampire, who imbibed the Elixir of Life in Elder Days, when you and all your peoples were still stacking dung to make crude huts! Look upon me and know that your end has come!" Boasted the Vampire Lord, Wadjer.

Then, Anders' Druidic Chanting reached a crescendo, and a lightning bolt slammed into Wadjer's Enchanted, Bronze Breastplate from behind and to my left. With an effort of willpower, he thrust the ring that he had taken off the corpse of Abdul Ibn Slaf forward, and suddenly the area where Wadjer had been blown backward by Anders' Lightning Bolt was covered in a patch of quicksand, making it difficult for the Vampire to move. As Wadjer fought off the quicksand, I aimed my Pistol at Wadjer's Khopesh hand as time began to slow down, my powers beginning to run the numbers and calculate angles even as my implants activated. I figured out the right firing solution for what I wanted, and time sped back up as I squeezed the trigger. My pistol belched smoke, flame, and lead, and the pistol shot struck out at Wadjer's Khopesh, striking it out of Wadjer's hand where it was sucked under by the quicksand.

Then, with a roar of defiance, Wadjer leaped up out of the quicksand in a way only someone with the kind of power you got from being a millennia-old Trueborn Vampire, bursting out of the quicksand, snarling something at me in a string of droning High Nehekaran as a crackling black and green bolt of power appeared in his hand. Wadjer flung the coruscating bolt of power at us and forced us to scatter, as the sheer power behind the bolt slammed into the stone of the tomb floor, smashing and blackening the stone in such a way as to leave no doubt that if any of us had been hit by that, we would have been dead.

As he landed, Wadjer charged at Ruggiero, who had dodged the bolt in the opposite direction from the rest of us. Radamenes tried to pounce on him from the side, but Wadjer lashed out at my Fluffy Boy, kicking him in the Ribs and knocking Radamanes into the Quicksand, where he struggled to keep himself from being sucked under. Thankfully, the Defense Boost that Radamenes had gained worked in his favor, ensuring he would stay alive, if out of the fight, for now, as he still had to contend with the Quicksand.

Meanwhile, Wadjer resumed his charge against Ruggiero, dodging a thrown blade from Martine as he did so with catlike reflexes. The Vampire Lord snarled as he lowered his shoulder behind his shield and shield-charged Ruggiero, who was slammed backward into the stone wall with a crunch, shattering the painted frescoes and sending stone chips flying everywhere. His new magical armor saved his life, but I had to imagine that Ruggiero wasn't going to be of much use for very long. Seeing that, I charged for Wadjer's Rear only to get kicked backward in such a way that I felt one of my ribs bruise and another crack even through my Magical Armor, even with the Scarab Bone Sheath, as I was sent flying back into the opposite wall, cracking the frescoes there as well.

At the same time, in came Martine from the side, cutting out with her Dagger of Swift Death, cutting into the back of Wadjer's Leg, only for him to backhand her with his right hand, even as he kept Ruggiero pinned to the wall with his shield arm. The venom of the Dagger of Swift Death did less than nothing to Wadjer, thanks to his undead constitution, though the blade itself seemed to inflict a minor wound. As I staggered to my feet, however, I could see that Martine's face was swollen and her orbital bone was broken, as if she'd been smashed in the face by a Mace or Warhammer. She wouldn't be doing anything for the rest of the fight. Of course, then Anders came in, attacking the Vampire with a Magic Dart, the small projectile of mystic force cutting into the back of Wadjer's head, but only inflicting minor damage.

In response, Wadjer began to chant again in droning High Nehekaran and fired another coruscating bolt of black and green energy back at Anders, who was forced to move back toward me to avoid the crackling necrotic energy. Instead, it slammed into the Sarcophagus of Walid Al-Kharzai, blowing open a hole in the sturdy basalt lid of the Sarcophagus to reveal the skeletal form of Walid Al-Kharzai, clad in an Arabyan Sleeved Chain Shirt, Plate Greaves, Plate Vambraces, and Tall, Knightly Helm. However, he had in his hands some sort of obsidian talisman instead of a blade. I couldn't see the thing from my vantage point, and the placement of the hole, unfortunately.

My attention was soon drawn back to the battle when Wadjer let out a howl. He'd been so preoccupied smacking down Martine, breaking my ribs, and firing curses at Anders that he must not have been putting as much force into keeping Ruggiero pinned as he otherwise might have. That had allowed us to effectively split his attention and allowed Ruggiero to slip his Silvered Left-Hand Fighting Knife in between the breastplate and pauldron of his enchanted bronze armor. Silver was a great bane of all the undead, and Truborn Vampires were clearly no exception, though it didn't seem to be as decisive on Wadjer as it might have been against a lesser Vampire.

The Ancient Vampire still howled in pain and anger, backing off for long enough that Ruggiero could bring his new Blade to bear and lash out in a pair of cuts, one of which landed with the power of a Giant, smashing Wadjer back. With a snarl of what could only be described as pure rage, Wadjer tossed his shield at Ruggiero, the enchanted bronze smashing into Ruggiero's helmeted head and blasting the helmet off of him, even as Ruggiero was knocked unconscious by the force of the blow. However, at this point, my Perpetual healing abilities had managed to mend my ribs well enough to have me charge forward, lashing out with the Blade of Dazh's Fury, just as Anders' Druidic Chant reached a crescendo, and I felt myself suffused with energy.

As my various enhancements all worked together, along with the magic of my gear and the buff spell Anders just cast on me, it allowed me to bring my runeblade around in a series of arcing cuts, enough even, to keep up with the prodigious amount of attacks that Wadjer was putting out, at least temporarily. My first cut, unfortunately, was ducked, Wadjer hissing as he realized he had, in his mindless anger, effectively thrown away his only protection against the fire trailing behind my Runeblade. My second cut was parried, as Wadjer pulled a leaf-shaped dagger of Enchanted Nehekaran Bronze from a hidden sheath somewhere, though thankfully, this weapon didn't have any special properties, unlike the Khopesh he had been about to use if I hadn't used my out-of-context abilities to shoot it out of his hand earlier. I was forced to parry his riposte before countering with a cut of my own.

The Moulinette-style whirling cut managed to take Wadjer off guard enough to carve into his face, the flaming blade carving into the bridge of his nose and his left eye just before Wadjer burst into a whirling mist to try and avoid further cuts. When he reformed, however, I noticed that he was missing his right eye, my Rune Weapon having taken it from him. With a grin, I began to advance, as did Anders from the side, only for Wadjer to fake left toward me with his dagger, forcing me into a parry, only to turn about again and slam a kick into Anders' right side, sending Anders flying back into Walid's Sarcophagus, breaking it open even further. Anders slumped to the ground, huffing and puffing as he did so.

Wadjer turned to me once again, visibly restraining himself from leaping back into the fray in order to do something unexpected. Wadjer began to talk to me in Arabyan, for some reason giving me time to come up with a plan instead of pressing his attack. If he wanted to do that, then I would engage him in conversation, all while trying to think of a way out of this.

"And then there was one." Snarled Wadjer.

"What was that? I should have seen that feint coming." I questioned.

"That was a power I developed on my own. While my Queen was busy developing speed and manipulation, while proud Abhorash developed powers of strength and martial prowess, while Arkhan sought to learn from the scraps of Nagash's Table, and W'soran sought mastery over the Beasts of the Land, I learned from whoever would teach me." Smirked Wadjer.

"I don't see what that has to do with all this?" I queried.

"You don't, do you?" Asked Wadjer.

"Just spit it out!" I demanded.

"The benefits of learning from all the others who were willing to teach were that I could learn to fuse approaches. What you just saw was a fusion of My Queen's Beguiling Powers and Proud Abhorash's Martial Capabilities. A feint so perfect it may as well be an illusion. This is but one of such fused powers I possess." Informed Wadjer.

"Why are you telling me this?" I questioned, frowning.

"I have not sired another vampire before. There had not been anyone worthy enough, though perhaps I may have attempted such a thing with the Fakir, I decided against it. How would you like to be the first of my Children? I can assure you that you would become powerful beyond all imagining. Surely that is worth shedding your mortality for?" Queried Wadjer.

"Wait, are you seriously giving me a we're not so different, you and I speech?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"I have no idea what that means." Frowned Wadjer.

"It means no. I don't think I'll be taking you up on that offer." I huffed.

"Think carefully, I will not make it a second time." Warned Wadjer.

I frowned, making a show of thinking it over. In actuality, I was waiting for Anders to get himself back together. I could feel him with the Dragon Pulse, and he was healing, somehow, and so were Martine and Ruggiero. Likely, Anders had fed them all his last few doses of Nostrum Potion. I just needed to run out the clock a bit more. Fortunately, there was an Ace up my sleeve that I could gamble on, as a combination of my ability to be well-researched and my capabilities with Enchantment clued me into just what sort of thing that Obsidian Talisman that had been clutched in Walid's Hands was. I was just thankful that I had various abilities that made it difficult to read me, even with vampire sense, like Blank, because otherwise, there was no way I would be able to pull off this bluff against Wadjer.

"Tempting, I'm not gonna lie." I mused, as I made a show of pacing back and forth, my course taking me toward the broken Sarcohpagus of Walid Al-Kharzai.

"You would be without peer on the field of battle. I can already tell you excel there if you can match me even in my weakened state." Intoned Wadjer.

"What would you make me do if I did take you up on the offer? After all, I can't imagine there wouldn't be an apprenticeship or something you would force me through." I questioned, walking closer toward Walid's Sarcophagus.

"That much is true, though it would not be as arduous as some might be." Allowed Wadjer.

"How so?" I queried, pausing just at the Sarcophagus.

"I would perhaps make you do a few errands for me now and then for the first few decades as you adjusted to your new status. It would not be so onerous as what I imagine my Queen made her direct progeny go through." Explained Wadjer.

"I can imagine that Queen Neferata would be the sort of Overlord who would make you wait on her hand and foot, huh?" I asked, placing my back to the Sarcophagus and slowly slipping my hand in there, using my body as a vision shield and Wadjer's single-mindedness to camouflage my actions.

"You have no idea. Now, however, I must ask for your answer." Demanded Wadjer.

"It's tempting, but I'm going to have to say no." I responded, my off-hand grasping the chiseled obsidian of the Talisman.

"So be it, you have sealed your doom!" Snarled Wadjer as he rushed toward me, only for me to pull my off-hand out of Walid's Sarcophagus and bring the Obsidian Talisman out in front of me.

It was a piece of chiseled Obsidian, worked in the shape of a sort of Neolithic Obsidian Knife Blade, strung up on a silver chain. As Wadjer closed with me, the Obsidian Talisman glowed with an inner light that burned Wadjer as he closed, sending him scurrying back away toward me. Walid Al-Kharzai had been buried with a Dawnstone, a talismanic piece of ancient magic which repelled Daemons and Undead alike with a vengeance. Already weakened from extended combat, as well as from centuries with nothing more potent than the occasional Skaven Patrol to feast on, Wadjer was further weakened by the light of the Dawnstone. From Trueborn Vampire, down to the level of a Vampire Lord, then down to the Level of a Vampire Champion, before finally being brought down to the level of a fresh Vampire.

It had taken multiple layers of weakening, outside context abilities, his unhinged mental focus, and a lot of luck, but Wadjer was now Vulnerable. Honestly, if I hadn't stalled him by pretending to humor his weird thought about turning me, I was pretty sure he would have slaughtered us all by now. However, as the Runeblade of Dazh's Fury flashed out for Wadjer's Neck, even as he recoiled from the light of the Dawnstone. The flaming blade sliced Wadjer's head from his body, both toppling to the stone floor, inert. This wouldn't kill him, but it rendered him vulnerable to what I planned to do next.

I reached into my satchel, pulling out the last of my Alchemical White Phosphorous Incendiaries, mixed the reagents together, backed up, and let fly. The resulting plume of flame not only cracked the stone floor from the force of the incendiary explosion but also washed over the middle of the Tomb of Suleiman the Stout, practically atomizing Wadjer's Body, leaving nothing behind but ash, broken, charred stone, and slagged Nehekaran Bronze. Thankfully, my companions were all right, everyone standing up from behind the Sarcophagi where they had taken cover.

We had done it, slaying Wadjer and ridding the Cavern City and Alcazar of Zarwai of any enemies. Now all that was left to do was to use what healing items we had left and get to looting. I fed Rademenes my last Accelerate Healing Tablet for his hurt ribs. My Perpetuality would take care of my own ribs in time. For now, I was functional enough. Once we were up and about, it was time to loot.

Unfortunately, we weren't able to take everything with us back to Alynda, though we did manage to fit enough stuff in the Vardo to make everyone in the group richer by around sixteen thousand Guilders apiece when all was said and done, mostly through jewelry, art objects, and the like, as Armor and Weapons were simply too bulky to fit into the Vardo en masse. Though that was if Van Rijn kept buying for a third of the full price of things. He may very well begin to offer even less if he thought there was a chance to flood his usual markets. He was a Marienburger, after all. Still, there were easily tens of thousands of more Guilders' worth of loot back in Zarwai, much of it in items that were different from the bulk of our haul today. Furthermore, this didn't count the Magic Carpets, Enchanted Ropes, or Arabyan Wind Spheres we had picked up specifically to fill Van Rijn's Orders.

In the end, we would just have to see how it all shook out when we got to talking to Van Rijn himself on our return to Alynda. . .

XXXX

AN: All right, sorry that this one was so long. I wanted to finish the Zarwai adventure in a single go, which meant big-ass chapter. At any rate, the MC and his Companions almost party wipe against Wadjer, and they would have absolutely been all killed had they not fought him in the Tomb of Suleiman the Stout and Walid Al-Kharzai. Even weakened, with his mind gone unhinged from literally drinking Skaven Blood repeatedly, and thus distracted and unable to make good decisions, Wadjer was still the type of foe that the MC had to repeatedly weaken just to be able to get a shot at killing. Even then, it took all his out-of-context powers and an insane amount of luck to do, and he still almost lost.

However, destroying a Trueborn Vampire, even one of the unknown ones, even one who was weakened considerably, is a big deal. You can expect, at the very least, Prince Harmis Detz of Khypris to take notice once word of the expedition starts to spread, and of course, since Van Rijn knows, the De Roelef Family of the Marienburg Directorate will find out in short order, too. This might be enough to make Eric Dahl over in Pugno pay attention if he correctly guesses that another SI is in play, as well.

At any rate, the next chapter will be negotiation with Piers Van Rijn, looting, and a bit of character interaction. I'll also have a character sheet update and some more images out before then as well.

Stay tuned. . .