What is Dead Can Never Die - Sheryl, the Fae-Touched - 11.11

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Vorsthold has been turned into a killing field.

The change to the city is undeniable and the strain it is causing for the Vorstborn can be seen on every face they pass. So different than the first time she came, Sheryl’s earlier rosie cheeks and happy glow are now a fleeting memory.

Their group spots where Lady Cheryn, Lady Macida and Ser Lytton are conversing with General Ada Mantine and Rangrim, the dwarven mage Sheryl had met on her last visit. She would like to have a chance to speak to the mage, apologise for how their last conversation went and ask after Morin. But before their group gets close, she hears Ser Lytton’s voice rise in argument.

“I tell you, they are a flaw in your defences. Quite possibly a fatal one.”

The scowl deepens on Rangrim’s face.

“Absurd!” he bites out. “General, do not listen to the moralistic fearmongering of these outsiders – they do not know us, they do not know our ways, and if we let them stay they will only be a hindrance to the defence of the city.”

“Forgive me, friend,” Ser Lytton cuts in, stepping up close to the dwarf, “but I do not think you are in any position to be turning away assistance at this late hour. Especially with your entire front line manned by tools of the enemy.”

Sheryl frowns. General Ada finally speaks up.

“We appreciate your aid, sir knight, but Vorsthold has stood against the darkness for a thousand generations and will stand a thousand more, regardless how we might offend your sensibilities.”

“Beware, Dwarf,” Lady Cheryn cautions, “beware the pragmatic evil. Some things are more valuable than life, and if survival is your only aim, you will soon find yourself as black as those who would destroy you. Blacker, even – for there is no greater evil than that perpetrated by good men in defence of justice.”

Sheryl glances at Baine and they share a weighted look.

“Knowledge has no allegiance, no morality – it is a tool,” Rangrim counters. “Use it for good or evil, it does not change the nature of the thing. If you stab your neighbour with a pitchfork, we do not condemn all farmers.”

Lady Macida nods, making a noise of slightly surprised agreement which makes Lady Cheryn raise an eyebrow at her whilst a subtle hiss comes from Ser Lytton.

“This is a precarious situation,” Astra observes.

“It is. I see what Ser Lytton is trying to say and it is something I have wondered about myself. I am not well versed in necromancy, not in the way Rangrim and the Vorstborn mages are, but who’s to say it isn’t possible for a truly powerful mage – a lich like the Chronoturg for example – to overtake a spell already cast?”

“Have you seen it done before?” Astra asks her.

“I have not,” Sheryl admits. “But there are many things about magic I have yet to grasp. It has the ability to make anything possible – and I mean, anything. Acts of great good or undeniable evil lie not in the magic itself but in the heart of the one using it, like Rangrim said.” She sighs internally. “Come, let’s see what we can help with.”

---

Their arrival at the Stargrave mine was met with a heavily barred door, but a knock later and the foreman let them in. Sheryl and Baine explained to the miners what had been asked of them – to assess if the mine could be secured and if not, to have them all pack up and return to Vorsthold. The twenty or so dwarven miners didn’t seem too concerned with the present situation. Since the last time Sheryl and Ghesh had been here the mithril mine reopened and no further attacks on it had happened. The two guards with the miners however were very uncomfortable and seemed to be inclined to return to the sanctuary of their home.

With Pieni and Traavor’s help, their group did their best to assess the security of the tunnels. With the exception of a few fissures where the shadowy undead could possibly get in, all seemed to be defensible enough. Baine and Pieni started to craft a makeshift portcullis that would be triggered by a tripwire or could be pulled down by one of the miners, if such a trap would be needed. It wouldn’t stop a hoard, but it could give them a few precious extra seconds needed to escape.

Whilst the work was progressing, Sheryl found herself wandering over to the entrance they came through. It came on slowly, the creeping realisation that their focus on securing the mine tunnels themselves perhaps should not be the focal point of their efforts. Sure, this heavy adamantine door is reinforced but what if–

Astra suddenly tenses beneath Sheryl.

“Something is wrong…”

Not a moment later, something extremely heavy crashes into the door, making it ring like a deep, sonorous bell. The others by the mine tunnel entrance suddenly stop and turn, Ghesh’s danger sense driving him to come to where the fae-bard and winged unicorn were not twenty feet from the door. Another heavy strike sees the door starting to buckle, followed by yet another one just as forceful.

“Get ready!” Sheryl shouts back to her friends, drawing her Harmonious rapier, her features shifting.

“You lot, hide!” Baine shouts to the miners.

Before he can get to Frankie, the heavy metal doors finally give way. Two huge shambling mounds of putrid flesh enter the mine coming directly at Sheryl, Astra and Ghesh, their disgusting aura of death worming its way around them. The fae-bard and mighty dragonborn do not blanch. There is only grim determination and a summer storm building within Sheryl.

“Be one with the wind!” she tells Astra, flourishing her blade as the battle begins in the deep mines of Vorsthold.

---

With precision, Sheryl uses a small dagger to get the last worm out from under Astra’s skin. Singing a quick healing word, the wound seals instantly as she squishes the flesh eating insect under her boot. After doing another quick once-over, satisfied she got them all, Sheryl looks up to Astra.

“That’s the last of them.”

“I know you would apologise but you do not need to, Merla,” Astra assures her, bringing her mouth to the braids in Sheryl’s hair to lightly nip at them. “I am strong and would never wish to be anywhere else but by your side if it means I can help and protect you.”

Sheryl gives a sigh, grateful if a little abashed. She lightly kisses her partner’s nose whilst giving Astra’s cheek a comforting pat. Then she goes over to check in with Baine, Frankie and Ghesh.

There had been a moment during the fight when Baine and Ghesh had been put to sleep by the Death Tyrant where Sheryl had thought she would have to get them all out of there, somehow. It had been a fleeting thought, the idea of running away, escaping to another plane, but the moment the idea had crossed her mind she felt a sharp prickling sensation from the dark scars on her back and she swore she heard the call of a raven from somewhere behind her. But it could have been the sound of Traavor’s crossbow as he shot and killed the undead-worm-man she had been fighting. There were many strange sounds down here in the mines and Sheryl decided it would be best not to dwell on it. They needed to make preparations to leave.

They collectively and unanimously decided it would be best for the miners to come back to Vorsthold. Checking in with Astra to ensure she would be alright with it – “I am not above escorting the Dwarven folk to safety by carrying them and any supplies we must bring.” – a cart was prepared and loaded with as much mithril as could be carried and still allow for Frankie and Astra to pull it. Pieni and Sheryl had Handy Satchels with them too, which were stuffed full with as much as could fit within their extradimensional space.

Before departing, Pieni sealed the mine using their druidic magic to shape the stone into ten foot deep walls at the entrance. They seemed fairly confident it would keep anything and everything out, which was what was needed.

Despite their victory against the sudden attack, the mood as they returned to Vorsthold was grim, hardly any conversation passing between them. Sheryl was lost in thought most of the way, thinking about the fight, Vorsthold, the research she and the aarakocra Bones had done, and how bad it will get if they cannot get ahead of the undead threat.