Chapter 2
Cursing under his breath, Drevyn ducked back behind the large stone. It was just his luck to find grave-robbers, probably working for a rival necromancer. They might have been harvesting individual organs or whole corpses, but regardless, they had to be dealt with. Drevyn needed the noble’s boy whole, not in pieces. Thankfully the severed head did not belong to the dead young human, but it was likely the Dunmer would move on to his grave next. That meant they had to be dealt with, one way or another.
Wiping away some of the mud from his dark cloak, Drevyn emerged from his hiding place and approached the two diggers, boots still silent on the damp earth. His attire blended so seamlessly with the shadows that the two darks did not at first register his approach. This might have been beneficial if he planned to kill them directly, but his ideas were of a much more grisly sort. The dagger hidden in his robes was deadly, but the spell on his lips would be far worse.
The exhausted, shovel wielding Dunmer was the first to see Drevyn’s arrival. He called out to the other, and they both sent piercing stares in the necromancer’s direction. At once, the one with the shovel held it menacingly and the other produced a short tanto blade. It’s hilt shone black in the full moon’s light, but further up the blade was strange, glowing a hazy green. Enchanted weapons could be rare, and this one had surely been expensive. Drevyn would need to avoid the wretched blade if worst came to worst.
Gnashing his ugly blackened teeth, the Dunmer holding the head growled, “Leave here, stranger. This does not concern you.” His tired friend chimed in, “Unless you’re looking for a knife in the gut!”
Obviously, they expected Drevyn to run, and when he did nothing, their anger flared. The gaunt necromancer pushed a graying hair out of his face and whispered hollowly, “What are two respectable types like you doing in a graveyard at well past midnight? Not pillaging the dead are we? Stealing corpses? The Imperial Guards won’t like that very much, friends.”
“They also won’t like finding a skinny Breton dead among their loved ones,” hissed the one with a shovel. His companion put a dark hand up in protest and said, “What makes you think we’re doing anything wrong?” As he said this, his tanto came up with a waving threat.
“Well, you are holding someone’s decapitated head,” said Drevyn matter-of-factly. “Most people wouldn’t like that very much at all.”
“No I guess they wouldn’t,” said the more menacing of the Dunmer, edging closer. “But master Vahn pays us well to bring him treasures, pays us well to make sure no one finds out about our little enterprise.”
Drevyn gritted his teeth at the thought of Vahn. He was a rival necromancer to be sure, but also the most loathsome of creatures, a vampire. To think that one of the undead would so enjoy manipulating his cohorts was an unsettling thought indeed. Drevyn still remembered his last nearly fatal encounter with the vampire, as well as the wretched thing’s lifeless, pupil-less eyes.
Before he could speak once more to the two Dunmer, the first gave a toothy grin and said, “Sorry, Breton. You can’t leave here, tonight. Leastwise, Lord Vahn will be happy to have a snack. Maybe then he won’t look at the two of us like food anymore.”
With that, both dark elves moved forward, one still brandishing the shovel and the other with his poison blade. Drevyn smiled at them both and said, “I’m sorry about this, you two. Who would want to die in a cemetary?”
They were unphased, and moved on with threatening strides. Drevyn brought up a hand and whispered, “Davos!” Immediately, the rotting severed head in the Dunmer’s hand erupted to life, biting at his knuckles and forcing him to drop the tanto. Meanwhile, the other dark ran at Drevyn, but was violently stopped when the headless corpse he had been digging up sprang to life with as much fervor as its missing member. It had been buried with some type of jagged ceremonial sword, but now that same weapon was used to skewer the defiler of its grave.
The second of the Dunmer managed to rid himself of the animated head, but lost two fingers in the process. He snatched the tanto back up into his good hand and ran at Drevyn, screaming. The necromancer’s cloak billowed as he sidestepped and something white flashed in the darkness. The dark elf fell to his knees, and a cascade of blood rushed down from the gaping wound at his throat.
:confused: :shocked:
Drevyn put away his bloodied dagger, and trudged toward the young noble’s grave, removing his spell to animate the dead man. He reached it, and was about to begin digging, but then had a better idea. He said, “Davos!” once more, but this time directed his spell at the dead, shovel wielding Dunmer. The dark immediately sprang up and began to work for Drevyn. The necromancer smiled as his puppet gradually unearthed his prize.