\--==Official Submission==-- FROM: General Debinani Rahl RE: Chapter Three - Lazarus'' Tale Lazarus' Tale Sandoval introduced Lazarus Shade to me a few years back and I was immediately impressed with his remarkable knack for tracking and his innate skill to find trouble in the woodlands. He was a welcome addition to the company. He handed me this a while back, so I figured I'd transcribe it into the Annals for posterity's sake. \-Rahl The pains were unbearable. His skin burned as the sun struck it, then turned to ice as a cloud left him in shadow. The light blinded him and the cacophony of sounds that deafened him. He writhed in agony and even his own moans of agony were a tearing sensation deep within his throat. "...damn...", said Lazarus weakly as the pain began to fade. He hated the rebirths. He sat up and took stock of his surroundings. He seemed to be in a forest, very similar to the ones from his homeworld...at least he they seemed to be similar. His homeworld was several lifetimes ago, and the details had begun to escape him. Many details of his past had already escaped him. The one that remained with him was that which was the cause for his present circumstances. He had been a powerful noble at one time. Many of the people lived in fear of him and no one would question his laws...well, almost no one. The ancient priest had come to his castle and made demands of him. The aged cleric preached that his soul would be lost if he did not begin to honor the gods. He had laughed at the old man...until the old man struck him and accused him of blasphemy. He had ordered one of his guards to kill the man at that point. When the guard refused, he had taken the sword and struck the priest down himself. The priest had cursed him with his last breaths. Had cursed him to wander for eternity, searching for peace. He cared not about the curse. Only fools believed in them. Lazarus cursed himself for a fool as he thought back upon that day. His wanderings had meant living on many worlds in many different bodies. He had been many different people, no two alike, and never on the same world. The only thing that he could control was his name, Lazarus Shade, and that was his real name. His birth name had been taken from him. Try as he might, he could not recall it, so he had made a new one for himself. Lazarus, because of his immortality (such as it was), and Shade because he was only a shadow of the man he once was. Lazarus stood up and took stock of himself. He found that we was wearing simple breeches and a tunic. In addition to this, he found that he possessed a small pouch filled with gold. This was more than he had ever found himself with after a rebirth. Perhaps the gods felt that he deserved some mercy and that this time things would be easier. He heard a sound behind him and turned to see what caused it. An armoured man holding a loaded crossbow stood there, looking at him. "Hail," ventured Lazarus in a friendly tone. He found that he always began with knowledge of the local language. "Can you tell me where I can find the nearest town? I seem to be lost." The stranger just continued to look at him, not answering. Lazarus began to feel uneasy. There was something wrong about this man. His eyes seemed dead...as if there were no emotion, no humanity, no soul. "Uh...perhaps I'm bothering you," Lazarus said, backing away carefully. "I'll just leave now." The man aimed the crossbow and fired. Lazarus was thrown backwards by the blow. As he died, he considered that cursing the gods for this cruel joke, but decided that he didn't need them to make angry. After a moment, he realized that he could still see what was happening, although the world looked different...as if all color had been leeched from it. He looked around and saw his own body laying there, a bolt protruding from his chest. Even worse, his killer was pulled out a knife and was using it to carve pieces of his corpse off! Lazarus turned and ran. It took him a short while to realize that as he ran, nothing impeded his progress and he was not tiring. He slowed down and then stopped. Looking at himself closely, he realized that he could see through himself. "What the hell...", he muttered to himself. Or tried to. It came out as a low, moaning sound. "I'm a ghost," Lazarus thought. "Is this my fate?" he asked to the sky. "Now I don't even get to be reborn!" he ranted at the faceless gods. "Silence, mortal," the words formed in his mind. "We have changed nothing. It is merely the way this world works. You will eventually come upon one of the healers that can return life to you." Lazarus was stunned. The gods had never spoken to him, and he presumed that that was who was speaking to him now. "What do you want of me?" he asked quietly. "We have no need to explain ourselves to you," the voice replied. "However, we do have some need of you. On this world, there is a greater evil growing. This evil has already tainted the souls of several of the citizens and is growning. The one that murdered you is one such as this. At some point, you may come to know more about this evil. When you do, you must try and destroy it. When this happens, you will be permitted to move on if you wish. If the evil wins, you will move on, as will it." "What is this evil?" Lazarus asked. There was no answer. Lazarus set off in search of a healer. \* \* \* Lazarus ducked under the ogre's blow and drove his sword deep into its side. The ogre fell dead, its heart pierced. Lazarus stood over the monster's body, breathing hard. It had been one year since he awoke on this world. He had learned a great deal since then and had even made a name for himself. He had become a superior swordsman and an excellent tracker. As such, he hunted the beasts that preyed upon the travellers of Britain's eastern forests. As he looked through the ogre's pack, he heard the sounds of battle to the south. He also heard a deep, gutteral growling...troll. He grabbed the pack and headed towards the sounds of battle. When he got there, he saw that the trolls victim was in trouble. The man wore a green cloak and armour of bone. The man was unarmed, but a crossbow lay nearby. Said crossbow was most likely the cause of the bolts that protruded from the troll. They had not been, unfortunately, enough to slay the beast. The troll advanced upon the man, who was laying on the ground, shaking his head as if to clear it. It seemed as though the troll had struck a blow of its own, although not a killing one. Lazarus came up behind the troll and swung his sword. The blade bit into the flesh, but not deep enough. The troll turned and struck. Lazarus barely deflected the blow with his shield, but felt his arm grow numb from the shock. He hated fighting trolls. While weaker than ogres (which is still very strong), they were faster and smarter, which made them more dangerous as far as Lazarus was concerned. The battle went back and forth for another minute. Lazarus backed up as the troll swung, and felt his foot catch on a root. He lost his balance and fell backwards. The troll let out a roar of triumph and moved in for the kill. Lazarus brought up his shield as a last resort and waited for the troll to strike. The blow never came. Instead, he heard the thrum of the crossbow and the troll fell over backwards, a bolt through its neck. Lazarus looked around to see the archer had retrieved his crossbow. The man reloaded the weapon as Lazarus stood up and picked up his sword. Lazarus turned to thank the man and stopped as he saw the crossbow was now pointed at him. It was a heavy crossbow, just like the one that had taken his life his first day upon this world. He looked up at the man. It was not the same man. The eyes did not hold the same emptiness either. These eyes were alive...and the look in them was murderous. Lazarus looked into those eyes and quickly considered his options. The man could easily kill him before he could run or move in to disarm him. His only hope was the man would not kill him. Lazarus slowly wiped his sword off upon the troll's corpse. "Hell of a way to thank a man that just saved your life," he said to the man. The man stared at Lazarus a moment longer, twitched, then blinked. A change seemed to have come over him. He unloaded the crossbow and hooked it on his belt, ignoring Lazarus the whole time. The man then pulled out a dagger. Lazarus brought his sword up in a defensive position. The man ignored Lazarus as he walked over to the troll and began to carve meat from its body. Lazarus lowered his sword again as he watched the man set about building a small fire and cook the troll meat. "Come," said the man, removing his helmut, "let us dine together." Lazarus decided that the man was not going to try to kill him after all, and he was hungry. He sheathed his sword, sat down opposite the man, put down his shield and removed his helmut. "Thanks," he said as the man handed him a portion of the meat. "I'm Lazarus Shade, by the way," he told the man by way of introduction. "Sandoval," replied the man. They ate in silence for a while. "So," Sandoval said, finishing his meal, "are you going to divied the troll's treasure or should I?" "You go ahead," replied Lazarus. He still couldn't figure Sandoval out. He obviously was not tainted by the evil. Lazarus had become quite good at detecting it in another person or creature. He had encountered very few that were tainted these days. Lazarus sighed. He had not found any sign of what the source of this evil was, and was no closer to completing his mission than he was when he arrived here. Lazarus jumped, startled, as the sword landed next to him. He looked up to see Sandoval putting some gold coins in a bag, which then followed the sword, to land upon the ground near Lazarus. "The sword has some strong, magical properties," Sandoval said as he gathered his belongings. "I have no use for it, but it seems to be your weapon of choice. I think it shall serve you well." Sandoval loaded his crossbow and began to walk away. "Good hunting to you, Lazarus," he said as he disappeared into the forest. Lazarus stared after the man. Perhaps he had not learned as much about this world and its people as he thought. \* \* \* Another year passed. He had stopped actively seeking the source of the evil. There was no trail to lead him to it, and if anyone knew anything about it, they were not telling him. He had decided to follow the advice of the voice that had spoken to him and to wait and see if he would learn more about the evil. In the meantime, he had begun to make a fair living for himself as a hired sword. He was by no means rich, but he could afford to live comfortably. He had even made a few friends, with whom he hunted on occasion. The strange archer Sandoval was one such, although he had not been seen around Britain of late. Things had been slow lately, and Lazarus took advantage of the lull to enjoy himself. He sat on a bench outside of the inn and listened to the sounds of the bard playing within. The sun was setting, and Lazarus sat and watched it, as he drank an ale. A man in a black cloak walked over to him and sat down on the bench. Lazarus glanced at him and saw that it was Sandoval. "Evening," Lazarus said after a while. "Haven't seen you around here lately." Sandoval didn't respond. Lazarus knew him to be a quiet person, and knew that he would speak when he felt like it. "I've been busy," Sandoval said at last. The two sat in silence again. The sun finished its descent. "I have an offer for you," Sandoval continued at last. "A job?" "Sort of," Sandoval responded. "I've joined a mercenary group. The Black Rose Society." "I've heard a bit about them," Lazarus replied. "Fairly secretive group. Not much known about them. Even less is known about their captain." "He's a good man," Sandoval replied. "He takes care of his people." More silence. "I gather you like it?" Lazarus asked. "They're worthy of trust and loyalty," Sandoval responded. It wasn't much of an answer, but Lazarus had grown used to that from Sandoval. The archer let little about himself be known. Lazarus thought that he may have suffered a horrible tragedy in his past that left him a bit unhinged. Silence again followed. Lazarus sighed. He liked Sandoval, but he wished he'd get to the point. "Where are you going with this, Sandoval?" he asked at last. Sandoval twitched slightly, but didn't answer. Lazarus sighed, looked down into his empty ale mug, and began to stand. "Are you satisfied with what you're doing now?" Sandoval asked suddenly. Lazarus sat back down. "Its a living," he answered. "But you can't say its satisfying," Sandoval responded. Now it was Lazarus' turn to answer with silence. "Our world is hell, Lazarus," Sandoval continued. "There are murderers everywhere, and people fear their neighbors. Lords British and Blackthorn have lost control, and anarchy and corruption is becoming the normal way of life. I would imagine that you could not name more than a handful of people that you would trust with your life." Lazarus knew Sandoval was right. He never went anywhere without his sword, and he never believed anything anyone told him outright. He knew of less than ten people that he could trust with anything, let alone his life. "Go on," he said to Sandoval. "I've told Captain Rahl about you, and you're being offered a place in the Society." "Why me?" Lazarus asked. "Because you can be trusted. You didn't know me when you helped me against the troll. Death is often times not permanent, but you still risked losing everything you had." "Maybe I didn't have that much to lose," Lazarus replied. "Really?" "Ok," Lazarus relented. "I had pretty much everything I owned on me at the time." "If you're interested in joining, meet me at the Moongate south-west of town tomorrow at noon," Sandoval said, rising. Lazarus sat in the darkness, alone for a time. At last he rose and strolled across the street to the Wayfarer's Inn. He had already made up his mind. He would be at the Moongate the next day.