Undead at the Cathedral

Dear Diary,
 
The past week had been… quiet, at least. I’ve spent most of my time buried in books and scrolls, trying to uncover the history of the staff I retrieved from the depths of Cairn Fussil. It’s a fascinating artifact, really. From what I’ve pieced together, it once belonged to a mage named Ondirius—a fire mage, like me. He was known for invoking a spell called Burning Rain, a spell lost to time. I can’t help but feel that rediscovering this spell is the key to unlocking the full potential of the staff. The thought of wielding such power is exhilarating, though I know I must tread carefully. Fire is as beautiful as it is dangerous, after all.
 
Yesterday, Alistan, Hayley, and Dadroz returned from their mission. They’d been chasing the mercenaries who attacked our keep in Wolf’s Rest. According to their report, the mercenaries were hired by someone wearing a fox mask. They were paid to attack the keep while we were away at the village festival, but their orders were specific: only target the guards. They claimed no knowledge of the elven priest or the assassin who also showed up during the attack. A fox mask… it’s unsettling. Who would go to such lengths to target us? We don’t have a shortage of enemies. But I can’t help thinking, why attack like this? The questions swirl in my mind, but answers remain elusive.
 
This morning, I was jolted awake by the ringing of the cathedral bells. It was still dark, half an hour before dawn, and the bells were sounding an alarm. I rushed to the window and saw flames lighting up the night sky near the cathedral. My heart sank. We didn’t hesitate—Alistan, Hayley, Liliana, Gael, Dadroz, and I mounted our horses and raced toward Keralon. The city gates were wide open, which is unusual for this early hour. Crowds of people were streaming in, carrying bales of water to fight the fire. The sight was chaotic, almost surreal. The Silver City, our home these past few years, was under threat once more.
 
As we approached the cathedral in the Silver District, my heart sank further. It wasn’t the cathedral itself that was burning, but several buildings at the foot of the hill where it stands. Among them was the academy where I had just graduated as a mage a week ago. The sight of flames licking at its walls stirred mixed emotions in me. The academy made my life a living hell during my studies, but I’d never wish harm upon it. And the library—gods, the library! So much knowledge, so many secrets, all potentially lost to the flames. Thankfully, the fire seemed contained to storage areas and wasn’t spreading to the more critical parts of the campus. Still, the sight of burning trees and storage houses was unsettling. The fire was scattered, unnatural, as if it had been set deliberately.
 
A few guards were slumped against a wall, nursing wounds from what looked like a fierce fight. Liliana rushed to heal them while the rest of us gathered around to hear their story. The guards explained that they had passed by the opera building and noticed three drunks acting suspiciously outside. When they approached, they realized the “drunks” were actually zombies, seemingly trying to attach something to the wall. The guards managed to defeat them, but not before a series of explosions erupted, igniting the fires. It was clear now—this was no accident. Someone had orchestrated this chaos.
 
Everything pointed to this being a grand distraction, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something far more sinister was at play. I began surveying the area, my eyes scanning for anything out of place. That’s when I looked up at the cathedral and noticed a faint light flickering from within. My stomach churned. We rushed to the cathedral, our footsteps echoing in the eerie silence of the early morning. Pushing open the massive doors, we were met with a chilling scene.
 
Galiene, the kind-hearted elven priestess of Irminsul and—dare I say—Alistan’s paramour, lay unconscious on the cold stone floor. Standing over her was a monstrous troll, its body hulking and grotesque, with a human skull for a head. The skull glowed with an unnatural, dark magic, casting eerie shadows across the cathedral’s grand interior. The creature turned to us, its hollow eye sockets seeming to pierce through my very soul. It scoffed, a sound that sent shivers down my spine, and then, as if to mock us, it kicked Galiene’s limp form, sending her sliding further across the floor. Without a word, it turned and began to walk away, its heavy footsteps echoing like a death knell.
 
My fists clenched, and I could feel the heat of my fire magic simmering beneath my skin. This wasn’t just an attack on the city—it was an attack on everything we held dear. And whoever—or whatever—was behind it would pay.
 
The moment Gael fired an arrow to ensnare the troll, the air itself seemed to tremble. But before we could even breathe, a rattling noise erupted from the cathedral’s grand organ, and a massive minotaur skeleton climbed out, its hollow eyes locking onto Liliana. It swung at her with a thunderous crash, missing her by inches and smashing into the wall instead. Then, as if things weren’t dire enough, a ghast floated out, its spectral claws slashing at Gael. The cathedral erupted into a cacophony of clashing steel, roaring flames, and the eerie wails of the undead. The fight was on.
 
Hayley, thinking quick, cursed the minotaur skeleton with a spinning cloud of dark energy that clung to its bones. Liliana, swung her sword in a flash of divine light, causing the skeleton to shudder violently. I wanted to charge forward, but the lich troll creature was too far away, out of range for my spells. So, I spun around and hurled a firebolt at the ghast, the flames searing its spectral form as I sprinted forward. Alistan and Gael finished it off, and Gael darted ahead with his elven grace, his movements fluid and precise.
 
The troll, however, wasn’t done. It laughed—a deep, guttural sound that sent chills down my spine—and conjured a cloud of sickly green mist. Hayley, always one step ahead, warped space around Alistan, sending him next to Galiene so he could feed her a healing berry. I activated my speed spell, my feet igniting with flames as I dashed forward. Galiene, despite her injuries, reached out and teleported herself and Alistan further down the cathedral, beyond the mist. She shouted that they were after the lance. My heart raced. This was bigger than we thought.
 
Gael, the brave fool, ran into the mist and immediately started choking. I kept running, whispering incantations to dispel the mist as I went. Through a gap in the wall, I caught a glimpse of Alistan locked in combat with a zombie ogre while Galienne and the troll struggled over the engraved lance. Before I could react, more zombie ogres burst forward, charging at Gael. He dodged with inhuman agility, turning to mist and teleporting ahead to aid Alistan. Hayley warped Liliana forward, and she struck one of the ogres with a divine strike that shook the very air.
 
I ran forward, my mind racing, and cast a wall of fire around Alistan, Galiene, and the undead, hoping to trap the troll and prevent its escape. The flames roared, obscuring my view, so I counted to ten and dropped the spell. The ogres were scorched and reeling, but the troll-lich-whatever-it-was stood unharmed. Desperate, I tried invading its mind, forcing it to stagger for a moment, but it resisted my intrusion. The troll, clearly fed up, conjured another cloud of green mist, choking Alistan and Galiene. As Alistan collapsed, the troll seized the lance.
 
I prepared to dispel the mist again, but one of the ogres charged me. Hayley, bless her, summoned a fire sprite to aid me. I dispelled the mist, saving Alistan and Galiene, and then used a spell to make the ogre’s swing miss my head by inches. But when I looked back, the troll was gone—vanished with the lance, despite its size. I blasted the ogre before me with everything I had, but it landed a solid hit on me with its morning star. My head rang, the pain blinding, but Gael’s arrow struck true, felling the ogre before it could finish me.
 
The fight was over, but the victory felt hollow. The aftermath of the battle left us all drained, but there was no time to rest. The troll had escaped with the lance, and we were battered and bruised. Galiene, still shaken, explained what had happened before we arrived. When the guards came to sound the bells, she was on duty at the cathedral. After they left, she heard a knock at the door. Foolishly, she opened it—only to find the lich troll and its ogre minions waiting. The lich had barked orders to the ogres to retrieve the lance, and Galiene, brave as she is, tried to stop them. She apologized profusely for failing, but Alistan comforted her, insisting it wasn’t her fault. He even admitted his own failure, and I could see the weight of it pressing heavily on him.
 
The lance, it turns out, is no ordinary weapon. Galiene told us it was once wielded by a knight of Keralon to slay a dragon. The implications are staggering. This was clearly the work of the cult that we had fought before as they had used undead creatures in the past, and have a penchant for targeting draconic foes to harvest their essence. We speculated that the cult might use the lance to take on someone or something in the Draconic Empire—perhaps even the great dragon Velora herself. The thought sent a chill down my spine. I cast a locator spell to track the lance, but it had already moved out of range. Of course.
 
As we walked away from the cathedral, Alistan seemed unusually downcast. Liliana tried to cheer him up by reminding him that he’d at least saved Galiene. It was a small comfort, but I could tell it didn’t fully lift his spirits. Hayley, always thinking ahead, suggested I visit the academy to research the troll lich. I groaned inwardly—the academy and I have a… complicated relationship—but I knew it was necessary.
 
At the academy, I combed through dusty tomes and ancient scrolls, searching for any information on the troll lich. What I found was unsettling. The transformation into a troll lich is considered barbaric, even by mage standards. It requires sacrificing a portion of one’s magical power in exchange for physical strength, regenerative abilities, and immunity to fire. The creature also gains truesight, making it a formidable foe. The only way to stop its regeneration is with acid or divine magic. The process is similar to creating a demilich—removing the head of a lich and placing it on a headless troll. The process can be reversed and both the troll and the lich can be restored. Trolls are often in the service of hags in the region, so that might be a lead to follow up on. Although I am not eager for another encounter with Mother Marblehook.
 
Meanwhile, Liliana headed to the Draconic Embassy to inform Ambassador Rachnar about the fire and the theft of the lance. He was visibly disturbed by the news and vowed to send a message to the Draconic Empire, putting them on alert for the cult and the lance. Liliana also invited Rachnar back to our keep to discuss a favor he had mentioned earlier.
By the time we returned to the keep, the others were exhausted from helping extinguish the last of the fires in Keralon. The city was safe—for now—but the lance was gone, and the troll lich was still out there. Whatever the cult is planning, it’s bigger than we imagined. And we’re running out of time to stop it.
 
The evening meal was a quiet affair, a rare moment of respite after the chaos of the day. But as always, peace doesn’t last long in our line of work. Liliana and Ambassador Rachnar arrived at the keep, their presence immediately shifting the mood. Rachnar, ever the diplomat, began by enquiring about the recent attack on our keep. He offered his help and resources without hesitation—his guards, the cells beneath the embassy, anything we might need. His gratitude for us revealing the theft of the lance was genuine, but I could tell there was more on his mind. He hesitated, then admitted he felt guilty asking for yet another favor.
 
What followed was a tale that sent a chill through the room. Near the Draconic capital of Latebra Velora, a black rider has been spotted. This figure, clad in a terrifying helmet and riding a black horse, has been challenging warriors to duels to the death. Those who refuse are left unharmed, but those who accept… well, their bodies are found beheaded. The description was enough to make even the bravest among us uneasy. Liliana and Alistan exchanged a look, their faces darkening. They wondered aloud if it could be the Black Knight—the very same knight who killed their brother. But this was unusual; the Black Knight rarely leaves Zwartkeep. Still, the similarities were too striking to ignore.
 
Rachnar asked us to investigate, citing our familiarity with the knights of Keralon as an advantage. Alistan’s reaction was immediate. He thanked the ambassador, his voice steady but laced with a quiet intensity. I could see it in his eyes—this was personal. The Black Knight had taken his brother, and Alistan had long dreamed of facing him. Rachnar, sensing the gravity of the situation, promised a favor if we could deal with the Knight. A favor from the Draconic Empire is no small thing, but I know Alistan isn’t doing this for rewards. This is about justice. Closure. Vengeance.
 
As the conversation wound down, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of what’s to come. The attack on the cathedral and the rumours of the Black Knight have only added to our list of problems. We still had to confront the emissaries of King Ulther in our district in a few days. And there was also the attack on our keep last week orchestrated by the mystery figure in the fox mask. My hireling Brenda also gave me some valuable information about Anaya, the sorceress whose prison we found empty in the Lorewood recently. She is tied to the elemental towers around Keralon, which is pushing me to complete the quest given by my mentor Amarra to find their locations as soon as possible.