3.09 - Research Grant

Anneleigh followed path back to Tearfall Run.  As she approached the small research party she passed Laria’s forest Alter and grimiced.  Right now all she wanted was an impossible wish, a wish for further instruction from the forest guardian, but she knew Gwyddon was right.  Laria would return to Gloamwood only when she was strong enough to continue the fight.

The research party was composed of a young woman, whom Anneleigh supposed to be Fiona, a dwarf monk and several assistants and guards.  Anneleigh approached Fiona and relayed her instructions.

“Welcome to Tearfall Run, Ascended.  It is the last semblance of civilization you’ll find this deep in Gloamwood.  It doesn’t have much, but we survive – which is no small feat considering we are surrounded by undead.  I’m not sure what scares me more, the hordes of undead just beyond our camp, or the fact that they are interested in something more than attacking us.”

“Do you know about that something?”  Anneleigh asked, intrigued.

“No, but with proper protection we may be able to study deeper into the woods.  It is good Oakheart sent you for I’m at an impasse.  My protectors claim it’s too dangerous for me to continue my research in the field.  Perhaps you’d be interested in assisting with my work for the Vigil?”  Anneleigh nodded as Fiona continued.   “To create a defense against death magic, it would be useful to see its effects on creatures from the Plane of Water.  There are siltreavers nearby that would be excellent subjects.  Think you could get close enough to them to retrieve some samples?”

Anneleigh reluctantly returned to Millrush pond.  There were the reavers, the beasts that nearly killed her as she dived for Laria’s family trinket.    Without warning, bitterness swelled inside Anneleigh.  Even in her previous life she had not felt such betrayal.  She trusted Gwyddon’s assumptions, but still wished it different.  Anneleigh shook her head and scolded herself.  This wallowing would not help Fiona create her shield.

She took a few moments to compose herself and dove into the pond.  During their first encounter Anneleigh was week, but here, at the surface, full of air and strength, the reavers did not stand a chance.  Anneleigh returned to Fiona with more than a dozen glands, was thanked, and was told to wait as they were studied further.

As she waited, Anneleigh passed the time watching the guards tell a particularly animated tale about the Ancient Treants who roam the area, listening to Brother Jebiah talk about the unusual wildlife that inhabits this end of Gloamwood, and talking with the researchers about their work.  Finally Fiona called her over.

“The stillreavers glands are resistant to death magic, and could prove a valuable regent in protective spells.  Further tests require a concentrated sample of death energy.  The bones of the dead haunting the old Mathosian Mill would be saturated with this magic.”

“You want me to take the bones of your own dead citizens?” Anneleigh asked, appalled.

“Make no mistake; they were lost to us the moment the death plane washed across the forest.  They are now more minions of Regulous than ancestors of Telara.”

Against her better judgement, Anneleigh approached the mill.  The area must once have been a beautiful and peaceful forested space; the picture of Mathosian hard work and civilization.  The graceful arch of the water wheel still spins as smoothly as it must have in its previous life – before it was abandoned by the Mathosians and dwarves who build it.  Now it was overrun with the undead and members of the endless court. 

Anneleigh approached the mill and climbed the ramp to the second floor entrance.  As she expected, the mill was still active.  The undead who occupy the space gave the saw blades and grinding wheel a wide berth but roamed here none the less.   She made her way through the second floor, easily conquering the undead who tried to bar her path.  Soon the pocket on her belt was full of the bones needed for the experiment, but Anneleigh climbed higher.  Curiosity drew her to the third floor, where a single undead skeleton stood watch at a window. 

He was taller than even her elf-born stature, even though death had surely taken some of his height, and still appeared strong.   He turned as she approached, revealing the blood covered lumberjacks clothing he must have died in.  Anneleigh wondered if he had a story to accompany his unique presence.  Perhaps, if she returned with one of his bones as well, Fiona could tell her, or Brother Jebiah, who seemed to be able to read about the dead from their trophies. 

She drew her dagger – he drew his axe, and they began the opponents’ dance that Anneleigh knew so well.  The axe he carried was heavy and required a long swing before an impact blow.  Anneleigh easily dodged each of his attacks, but it became clear this battle would become a stale mate.  She could not get in close enough to hit him, and he could not swing fast enough to hit her.  Around and around the third floor working space the spun.  Anneleigh knew he was too intently focused on her to be preparing an alternative, but she was ascended.   As they spun she calculated the momentum required to propel him, given his size and weight.  She waited until the time was right, watched him raise his axe and drove it hard towards her.  As he swung downward, Anneleigh jumped out of the way, quickly darted behind him, and gave him the additional push he required to fall over the edge – right onto the rotating saw blade on the floor below.  She retrieved his hand – it had been severed nicely by the blade – and left the mill.  As an afterthought she also retrieved a bat wing for Brother Jebiah before she returned to the research camp.

“The risk you took getting those Necrotic Fragments will pay off, I promise you, Anneleigh.”   Fiona said as she took the bones.  “You have a knack for this sort of work.  You wouldn’t want to work with me on a more permanent basis, would you?”

Anneleigh laughed for the first time in what felt like weeks.   “No, I’m afraid my days as a research assistant will come to an end as soon as we solve your shield problems.”

“Ah well.”  Fiona sighed.  She worked with the reagents for a few moments and then let out a great gasp.  “This is it!  I think I have finally figured out a way to repel magic from the Death Plane.  This death Shield is made from the materials you have brought me, in addition to other reagents.  Would you like the honor of testing it out?”

“Me?” Anneleigh questioned as she took the device.  Fiona led her to a basin of fire and Anneleigh dropped the mixture into the flames.  At once sparks flew and the camp was enclosed in pillars of light.  The researchers and guards cheered as golden disks of light enclosed around them.

“Oh my!” Fiona exclaimed, “The ward seems to be working better than I hoped for, I must get a closer look.”

But just as she approached one of the golden disks, the werewolves began to spill forward, knocking her unconscious.  Anneleigh dragged her out of the fray and into her tent while Brother Jebiah and the guards dealt with the unwelcome guests. 

Fiona stirred, “Why didn’t it work? Gods save us...” and her eyes fluttered closed again.

It did not take long for the camp to return to normal.  With the ward broken, the camp returned to darkness.  It took a few minutes more for Fiona to regain consciousness.

“What just happened there?  Did death energy get through the shield?” She said, and then, without waiting, “Obviously, the ritual isn’t perfect yet.  I’ll return to my studies and see if I can figure out what went wrong.”

Anneleigh smiled softly at Fiona and lead her to a cot to rest before approaching Brother Jebiah.  He seemed to expect her.

“So, the beast is revealed!  That barghest you killed wasn’t the culprit after all.”

Anneleigh smiled at him for the first time.  He is much more observant than she would have believed.  “Be honest, you and I both know that beast was not the one to blame. “

He nodded.  “I had my suspisions,  but accusations could be dangerous without proof.  I don’t believe Drusk is part of this, but I’ve suspected Doctor Oswell for some time.   Pay him a visit and have him reconsider his report on the “Infected” victims.”