The Crypt of Kulthas

A gentle hum filled Elisdrasil’s mind as he plucked the strings of fate, deep within his prophetic meditations. Something was coming, an event that held the potential to change the very course of his destiny. It had been skirting the edges of his visions for some time and he was just now beginning to get the edges of it in focus. Tentatively, gently, he probed the edges of it with his mind’s eye. And then a knock at the door intruded and the vision fled.

Sighing, Elisdrasil opened his eyes and cast an annoyed glance at the door. The knock was repeated again, a quick series of three raps that Elisdrasil knew could only be coming from the Silver Oak’s owner, Othrick. There was a certain animosity behind that knocking which Elisdrasil knew came from the fact that Othrick blamed him for Elissa’s running away. She was back now, but nothing would change the fact that she had run after Elisdrasil in the first place. Grudgingly, Elisdrasil rose from his meditative position and answered the door.

“He’s here,” Othrick said and departed. Elisdrasil frowned at the man, annoyed at his behavior. But far be it from him to scold the old elf. Long lived creatures held long lived grudges. Fortunately, he was expecting this visitor, and Othrick’s simple pronouncement was expected.

“Finally,” Elisdrasil muttered and grabbed his pack. He’d been waiting at the Silver Oak for two weeks, and though the accommodations were nice enough, the atmosphere was beginning to get to him.

The man waiting for Elisdrasil in the bar downstairs was a plain looking human, average in almost every way. Though it was a different face than the one who had met him in the Silver Oak the last time, Elisdrasil knew that it was the same person. He smiled and waved at the man, who returned the gesture. Elissa rushed over with two freshly drawn tankards of ale as Elisdrasil made his way to the table, an eager look on her face.

“Did you find it?” she began enthusiastically. The Keeper smiled patiently at the girl as he took his tankard and made a long draw from it. His eyes flicked from her to Elisdrasil, and the sword mage could see the humor behind them. Elisdrasil, who had been about to ask the same thing, merely shrugged and picked up his own drink.

“I did, young miss,” the Keeper replied, though his words were directed at Elisdrasil. “But there’s a problem. The Crypt of Kulthas was in the area taken by Xem’Xund’s forces during the Corpse War. It appears that a particular general of the Necromancer’s forces took a liking to the ancient tomb and had had it made into his headquarters. Though Sarl Kreig perished, the wards he placed on the place still remain.”

“Wards?” Elissa asked as the Keeper paused to take another drink.

“Patience, Elissa,” Elisdrasil said. “I don’t think our esteemed Keeper would simply leave us in mystery.”

“He’s right,” the Keeper chuckled at the red beginning to color Elissa’s cheeks. “As far as I can tell, there are a number of wards that have been set over the place. But the most troublesome is that the Crypt of Kulthas can only be opened by a creature of the undead.”

Elisdrasil and Elissa frowned and looked at one another.

“How do we get around it?”

“Simple,” the Keeper said, finishing his ale. “I’ve already contacted someone who should fit the bill. He should be here soon.”

Krugor’s feet felt like bricks as he approached the tavern. He couldn’t remember the last time he was able to get blisters, but he was sure this biting pain he felt came quite close to those pestering bumps. His bony toes longed for the comfort of a warm bath. As he closed in on the wooden entrance door of the tavern Krugor already pictured himself slowly sinking into a deep sleep, catching up on some well-earned rest.

The Silver Oak, Krugor thought to himself, this is what the man said.

Weary from a full day and night’s worth of travel he mustered his remaining strength and pushed the door open, almost stumbling into the tavern. As he regained his composure Krugor stepped forward, carefully navigating the crowded bar. He caught several glimpses of the customers, some of them only a bit agitated, but most of them stared at him with pure hatred.

Krugor grabbed one of his wrists firmly, checking to see if the wrist band was still there, knowing it could be the only thing stopping the entirety of the establishment from lunging at him. A sigh of relief escaped him as he felt the red leather, easing a bit of his discomfort. The Bladesinger’s insignia was a bit faded, but still visible.

“I have no affiliation with Xem’Zund whatsoever. Look!” he said, as his he tightened his grip on the wrist band and held it up for all to see. “I’m an independent undead”.

He maneuvered himself across the room, making his way towards a small table near the back of the bar. Krugor could feel his confidence returning as most of the piercing eyes started focusing on something else. A few ruffians spat in his direction, uttering curses under their breath, but they knew that even though a skeleton walked among them, there was no way he could be wearing the Bladesinger’s insignia without earning it.

It all still felt a bit off to Krugor when he reached the table. The same man that had approached him a few days ago was sitting there, grinning, accompanied by a devilishly handsome Elf. The Keeper, he called himself. And he had need of Krugor’s assistance.

Krugor dropped into the chair he had pulled up, resting his feet and feeling the touch of a nearby fireplace warming his aching bones. He had been travelling quite a distance to get to the Silver Oak, fueled only by the promise of riches. The Keeper had requested his help in an endeavor of which Krugor did not yet know the details, but the idea of making some coin to help start his chain of restaurants was all the specifics he needed.

“Alright, I made it. What’s the plan, boss?” Krugor said, nearly out of breath but with a grin across his face.

The tankard of ale covered most of Elisdrasil's frown. Like any Raiaeran, there was a hatred for the undead within him which was hard to overcome. His rational mind saw the feather token and understood its significance, it wasn't the first time that an intelligent undead had been declared independent, but the sight of the skeleton still caused an emotional reaction within him that he suspected would never fully go away. Still, assuming the Keeper had been correct about the warding over Kulthas' Crypt, he would need to work with this creature and he shouldn't judge him unfairly because of his nature. Though he wouldn't be turning his back on it any time soon.

"Welcome, Kurgor Vath-darr," the Keeper launched swiftly into introductions. The man knew that the sooner he got Elisdrasil and the skeleton on equal ground, the less likely it was that the situation would take a downturn. "Thank you for accepting my invitation. I know that you had a long way to travel to get here and understand that this is less than friendly territory for one such as yourself. Because of this, I hope you'll allow me to get right into things. This is Elisdrasil, the last of the Phoenix, and he needs your help."

The human smiled patiently between the two of them, completely undeterred by Krugor's nature. Elisdrasil sighed, finished his ale, and set the empty mug back on the table with a solid thump. He closed his eyes and breathed out, forcibly mentally realigning himself as he had been taught. When he opened his eyes again he had taken hold of his emotional state and locked it away. He gave the skeleton a respectful, if not friendly, smile and extended his hand.

"Kulthas Shuul was a true master, both of weaponry and art. His legend states that the wealth he amassed in life went into the creation of his last and final work of art, his tomb. When he died, he was buried inside with many of the pieces that he had created but refused to sell." Once into the swing of his narrative, Elisdrasil noticeably relaxed.

"Weapons, armor, countless works of art," Elisdrasil went on, his hands becoming more animated as he delved further and further into his story. "Kulthas buried a vast amount of his treasures with him. I've been searching for the Crypt of Kulthas for quite some time, and I'm under no illusion that the majority of his wealth has already been stolen and secreted away from his tomb by Xem'Xund's minions. Still, it is my understanding that there is a particular item which Kulthas was rumored to have taken to the grave with him and Sarl Krieg never brought it out. It is my hope that it is still inside, secreted away."

"I plan to travel to the Crypt of Kulthas and investigate it, but I need a creature such as yourself to breach the wards at the entrance. Whatever payment you might seek can be taken from the crypt and whatever remains inside."

Elisdrasil watched the skeleton, unsure of how to gauge the featureless reactions of a creature such at it. The uneasy feeling was creeping back. He would certainly have preferred to not have had to rely on one such as Krugor, but it seemed inevitable in this endeavor.

"Is this arrangement acceptable?"

Less than friendly. Ha.

It was quite an understatement Krugor knew, for every single person in the room would kill for a chance to put a blade to the skeleton’s temple. It was a strange sensation to be surrounded by people who hated him to their very cores, without ever having seen them before. Even Elisdrasil, who was apparently in need of help, looked as if he would rather have this conversation with a starving Allorin.

The Corpse War ended years ago and Krugor proved his worth to the Bladesingers many times before, why did he still need to feel afraid someone would club him in an alley just for being undead.

He slouched further into the chair, tilting his head back and letting out a small sigh.

Krugor’s mind wandered even farther as he listened to Elisdrasil making his pitch. He tried to make sense of the words, but the tiring journey made it hard on him. He couldn’t understand, even after all these years, how he could feel so tired. To feel at all. He had no skin to bruise, no muscles to tear and no blood to lose, but ever since he was stabbed to death by Izvilvin and raised from the darkness for a second time he could feel all of those things. He was dead, but with none of the upsides a walking corpse normally experiences. Krugor actually felt jealous as he thought of all those cadavers running around without a care in the world, going about their business not having to deal with an itching back or shin splints.

“Is this arrangement acceptable?”

Krugor noticed a human and Elf both looking at him.

He felt as if he had been awakened from a deep sleep and tried compose himself. As he familiarized himself with his surroundings again he hoped not to reveal he hadn’t heard a single word Elisdrasil had said. He was sure it must’ve been important, because he saw the high elf staring at him intently.

“S-sure,” he staggered, taking his time to try and remember at least some details of the story. “Sounds great!”

The whole room suddenly got very cold and very hot, then cold again. It also seemed to be spinning a little bit. Krugor got increasingly anxious. The elf already disliked him and now he made a slightly worse than terrible first impression. It would be just the excuse the man needed to crack Krugor’s skull on the table. He tried hard to think back and pick up something from the waterfall of words that was Elisdrasil’s pitch.

“I-I didn’t know elves could get them,” he started, “but I’m your guy if you want your warts removed”.

That had to be what Elisdrasil was talking about.

“I know some mushrooms that have all kinds of healing abilities, probably even for skin problems. You’re in luck sir, I’m the expert when it comes to rashes, moles and warts.”

Krugor felt confident and proud of himself for just having saved his behind. His didn’t even feel all that tired anymore as he got up and grabbed his backpack and quarterstaff.

“We’re burning daylight here guys, let’s go deal with these warts.”

"Warts?"

Elisdrasil frowned and gave the Keeper a skeptical look. The Keeper, in turn, smiled wryly and shrugged, as if to say "it is what it is." Grumbling muttered curses under his breath, Elisdrasil pushed himself back from the table, grabbed his pack and the map the Keeper had laid out for him, and stalked after the skeleton. If this delve turned out to be a bust, he would see to it that the Keeper received more than a few harsh words.

Hurrying, Elisdrasil caught up with his newest companion just outside The Silver Oak. He slung his pack over one shoulder, checked to make sure his curve blade was sheathed tight, and set off towards the fabled Crypt of Kulthas.

The next two and a half weeks passed quickly enough for the duo. Years of blood, sweat, and toil had freed this region from the remnants of Xem'Xund's undead horde. While there were some places in the ancient elven homeland that were still overrun, and while it was always prudent to stay on guard even in the so-called safe zones, there weren't too many undead left in this portion of Raiaera. Bandits and the like were a far greater concern when travelling on these roads. There were many elves who had turned to a less than savory lifestyle after the war. Many disenfranchised folks with no normal life to return to found that the only way to make a living was through force. But even the toughest of bandits tended to look the other way when an experienced sword mage and a skeleton came down their way together.

Elisdrasil used their time on the road to get to know Krugor better. Independent and intelligent undead were not unheard of, though skeletons with those qualities were far rarer than liches and vampires and their ilk. As it turned out, Krugor was far more experienced than Elisdrasil had given him credit for and the Raiaeran grudgingly came to admit that he his prejudice had overshadowed his rationale on their initial encounter. And while Krugor was an expert in the art of removing warts, his level of attention was much better when not surrounded by hostile people. Now that they were all squared away about the purpose of the expedition, Elisdrasil was feeling much better.

"I think this is it," Elisdrasil said as the two of them finally made it to the mark that the Keeper had put on the map signifying the turn off point. From here they would have to travel another half a day into the forest before they encountered the stone totems which indicated Kulthas' Crypt was near. From there, only the dead Sarl Krieg knew what traps and guardians had been left behind.

"Let's hope this goes as easy as the trip down here," Elisdrasil muttered. He loosened his sword in it's scabbard and stepped off the path.

Krugor watched as Elisdrasil took the first steps into the magnificent forest. For a single moment he second guessed his decision to join the Elf on this quest, as the safety of the open trail would soon transform into dangerous vulnerability along an untraveled path through the darkness.

The forest towered over them, with trees so thick they could hide at least two grown men shoulder to shoulder behind their trunks. The canopy was dense, blocking out much of the afternoon sun. Sunrays touched the ground only here and there, much like a pin cushion of little dots of light scattered around the damp, leaf covered floor. They would need to battle their way through many thickets and bushes, as the dirt path that split from the main road seemed to be swallowed by the wild growth only a few feet into the forest. If anybody wanted to stop the duo from reaching the crypt, this would be an amazing spot for an ambush.

“I wouldn’t count on it, Elis.” Krugor responded, as he quickly waved away any thoughts of turning tail.

He had grown quite fond of the Elf in the last couple of days, even though their initial meeting had been less than smooth. The hatred for the undead seemed to have subsided in Elisdrasil, at least for the moment. Krugor knew better than to abandon the ones who gave him a chance. Those people were few and far between at the moment.

“Don’t worry though, I got your back.” Krugor said.

He tightened his backpack, making sure the pots and pans hanging from it were securely fastened and attaching his staff to the side of it. Almost three weeks without a single Raiaeran trying to bash his skull in was pushing it, he knew. From this moment onward they had to be extra careful, a single sound at the wrong moment or a step in the wrong direction could mean the end of their crypt investigation before it even started.

Krugor followed Elisdrasil in the forest as he grabbed his plynt dagger from his belt. He didn’t have a lot of experience with close combat, but in this massive, overgrown and oversized shrubbery there was little room for a quarterstaff. He had to resort to more primitive measures.

At least three hours had past and Krugor and Elisdrasil were making steady progress through the thickets, gaining traction on more or less open dirt paths here and there and it all seemed to be going along nicely, when a they noticed a handful of stones stacked on top of each other.

“This could be it!” Krugor yelled excited.

As he sped towards his sighting a giant boulder suddenly flew by, straight across his face, barely scratching it but destroying his nose if he still had one. The stone completely wrecked a tree to his side, leaving it as nothing more than a pile of splinters. As if struck by lightning Krugor came to a halt, tightly holding on to this dagger and scanning the tree lines to catch a glimpse of his attacker.

“Undead. Elf. Trespassing!” a broken voice said.

From the brushes Krugor and Elisdrasil could see a shadowy figure emerging, looking to be at least seven feet tall and crushing everything he stepped on. As the being stepped into a lost ray of light they could see it wasn’t human.

“Sorcerer’s balls. A golem…” Krugor said.

Branches bent and snapped as the golem crashed through the underbrush towards the intruders. It was roughly man-shaped, though only a fool would have made the mistake to believe that it was anything other than a magically constructed creature. Stone ground on stone as the creature’s massive head pivoted back and forth between Krugor and Elisdrasil. Flat black stones studied each of them for a moment before the creature bent and plucked a heavy block of stone from the ground.

“Trespassers, die,” the golem rumbled, hoisting the stone overhead.

“Move!” Elisdrasi yelled, though Krugor was well ahead of him, his bony frame already disappearing into the foliage. He himself fell off to one side, removing his travelling pack as he did. The stone crashed through the brush where the pair of them had been only moments before. There was a sharp crack as the stone bounced off a thick, ancient tree taking a hunk of bark with it.

Elisdrasil came up in a crouch, his crossbow in hand. He snapped the weapon up and took aim at the creture’s eye, the only portion of it that didn’t look like it was carved from a single block of stone. The bolt leapt toward the creature, but it’s massive head pivoted once again to sight him and his shot splintered against the golem’s heavy hide.

“Damned wizards,” Elisdrasil hissed, rolling away again as the creature plucked yet another stone from the ground and hurled it at him. He could see now that the ground had been peppered with the things, obviously intended for use as ammunition by the guardian construct. Waiting for the creature to run out of rocks to throw was obviously off the table.

“Krugor, get its attention” Elisdrasil yelled as he ran from one spot of cover to another. The creature’s motions were faster now that it had had enough time to shake off the years of inaction, and its throws were striking closer. He and Krugor had to find a way to bring it down before it landed a lucky shot, and Elisdrasil though he knew how to do that.

They’d never get close enough to the creature to physically assault it. Not only was it faster than them, but it was stronger and had a longer reach. He doubted his light crossbow would do much more than scratch the golem, if it even did that much. But there was another idea that Elisdrasil had, something that might level the playing field.

For all the power in the golem’s throws, they seemed to do little more than scar the old growth trees of the forest surrounding the crypt. There were thick, heavy trees which had lived for hundreds of years. If anything here could bring the golem down, it would be them.

A stone flew through the air just ahead of Elisdrasil and he caught himself only moments before being clipped. The sudden stop threw him off balance and he fell, heavily, into the brush. Something heavy and jagged caught him on the hip as he tumbled and his entire leg went suddenly numb. A dull ache throbbed at the edge of the numb area and Elisdrasil knew that there’d be a lot more of that coming as soon as the feeling returned. Assuming he was still alive by that time.

“Elf, smash!” the golem roared, hefting another stone. But before it could throw, a dagger hurtled out of the brush on the opposite side of the clearing and hit the golem in the wrist. It did little damage to the massive creature, but the weight of it was enough to cause the stone to miss Elisdrasil. For the first time in a long time, Elisdrasil found himself happy that there was an undead creature lurking in the brush around him.

The golem, finding itself under attack from a different direction, turned and scanned the surrounding area, seeking to find Krugor. It did so in short order, the enchantment animating it somehow allowing the creature to see through the vegetation as if it were a clear field. Krugor dodged as the golem began directing attacks towards him, but Elisdrasil had no intention of leaving his companion to be crushed.

Knives of fire stabbed into his leg as sensation began to return, but now was not the time to give into weakness. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Elisdrasil pushed himself to his feet and hobbled over to one of the nearby trees. The golem wasn’t paying him any attention now, since Krugor had been the last one to attack it, and though he hated to sting the skeleton along, Elisdrasil took a few moments of much needed time to clear his head and figure his plan out.

The bark was rough beneath his hand. He could feel the ancient life of the tree flowing under his fingertips. What he was about to do wasn’t something that he really wanted to do, but unless he wanted both of them to die, it was necessary.

“You have lived long,” he muttered to the tree’s spirit. “And your death won’t be in vain.” In one smooth motion, Elisdrasil drew his curve blade and called upon the Breath of the Fire Dragon. Brilliant energy encased his blade, burning like a white-hot furnace. The golem’s stones might not have been able to do more than dent the trees surrounding it, but they were little match to a spell that could burn straight through steel.

Elisdrasil swung hard and sure enough, the blade passed effortlessly through the massive trunk. The energy faded from his blade as soon as the swing was finished, but Elisdrasil’s need for it had passed. Putting all of his effort into the tree, Elisdrasil pushed against it’s now freed weight. It took a moment, but then the massive growth toppled, coming down right on top of the golem with an earth-shaking boom.

Panting, Elisdrasil slumped down behind the freshly cut stump.

“Damn wizards,” he muttered, rubbing at the pain filled know swelling rapidly on his hip.

“Oh balls!”

The golem immediately turned around, redirecting its anger from the Elf laying in the bushes to Krugor, who had just flung his priced plynt dagger at the creature. The gods had to be with the both of them as the knife found its target on the golem’s wrist and saved Elisdrasil from being crushed by another massive boulder.

Unfortunately though, the animated rock now focused his attention on Krugor. Not wasting anytime playing hide and seek any longer, the creature picked up a boulder and catapulted it towards the bushes which Krugor had chosen as his hiding spot. He barely managed to crawl out of harm’s way as the stone came crashing down, making another innocent part of the local vegetation victim in this scuffle. As he popped his head up through the adjacent underbrush he rolled into in his escape, Krugor could see the golem getting ready to charge once more. Contemplating his next move he noticed Elisdrasil staggering behind the golem. His companion seemed to be wounded, quite so indeed, but still determined to fight as he felt up one of the many ancient behemoths of trees.

“The trees! Of course!’ Krugor whispered, figuring out the plan Elisdrasil had cooked up. He realized he needed to keep the golem in place just a second longer for the Elf to effectively spring his trap.

In one fluent motion he grabbed his favored ‘quarterstaff of shrooms’ from its attachment on the backpack, jumped out of the thicket and pointed the tip of the staff towards the monster. As Krugor stood there, staff in both hands and staring viciously at his attacker, the golem hesitated for a second, startled by the skeleton suddenly rubbing a fist sized mushroom in its face. That second proved to be all the time Elisdrasil needed for only a moment later a mighty tree fell down upon the golem. Crashing and thundering the tree came down, burying the golem in a grave of branches and leaves.

“Sweet lumberjack skills, Elis!” Krugor yelled cheerily.

With a light prod of his staff he made sure the golem was a goner. It didn’t move or even flinch as he poked the stone body of the creature here and there.

Brushing some of the leaves, branches and other remnants of the once mighty and ancient tree aside, Krugor went in for a further examination of the creature, hoping to find some clue of where to go next. The body looked eerily human like, although fully sculpted out of stone, as if a man had plastered all kinds of rocks to his body. The only difference being its head, which seemed to be greatly out of proportion to its already massive body, and its hands, which looked like they could crush a small chariot.

Continuing his investigation Krugor noticed a small symbol on the creature’s forehead, carved into the stone. A small triangle, in the top corner of a larger triangle, which was in turn placed in large square.

“There’s something here!” Krugor called out to Elisdrasil. “I think I know this symbol… I’m fairly certain it means ‘protection’. Or ‘to protect’. Something along those lines, I’m sure!”

“What do you think it was meant to protect?” he asked his companion.

When no reply came Krugor realized that in all the excitement of defeating the golem and discovering the symbol he forgot about the wound that Elisdrasil had sustained in the battle. He immediately made his way towards the stump that had formerly held a great tree and found the Elf laying against it, hands on his hip.

“Ouch. That looks like it hurts.” he said. “But don’t worry. I have just the thing for scratches and bruises!”

Krugor grabbed his backpack as he kneeled next to the Elisdrasil, revealing a small jar from its contents. The jar was filled to the brim with tiny mushrooms, no larger than an eyeball, with a white stem and bright green cap. Opening the lid uncovered a truly nasty smell, that even Krugor himself didn’t seem to get used to. He mashed a few of the shrooms together in a pot, added some water and poured the mixture into another empty jar.

“You’re lucky I never travel light, my friend” he said grinning as he handed the mixture to Elisdrasil.

The moment of relief was short-lived however, for as soon as Krugor handed over his creation the bushes near the body of the golem started to rustle. A creature of stone appeared through the thicket, stepping on and crushing the branches.

“Undead. Elf.” a broken voice said.

The creature stepped into the open and revealed itself, proving to be another golem.

However, this one was a rather small model, not even half the size of the former. Krugor observed the thing, estimating it to be smaller than himself and probably not even reaching his waist.

“Undead. Elf.” It repeated as he walked up to the fallen body of his kin. “Mother.”

Dumbfounded Krugor looked at Elisdrasil, back to the creature and back to Elisdrasil. The animated beings of rock and clay that were called golems were incapable of reproduction, that much he knew. But somehow the summoner of these beings had managed to get his two creations to form a bond, one that was maternal in nature even.

“Well, I’ve seen stranger things I guess. Do we kill it or capture it? Krugor asked.

Elisdrasil took the unguent with a thankful nod. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to eat the stuff or rub it over his wounded hip. After a quick whiff of the potent mixture, he really hoped that it was the later.

Gritting his teeth, Elisdrasil pulled the leather of his armor away from the wound. A swollen lump of black and purple told him that the wound was likely to hinder him through the rest of their journey into the Crypt, causing Elisdrasil to curse himself for his inattention. If the Crypt’s guardian proved to be too much for him to fight without becoming seriously injured then how much worse would he and Krugor fare inside the Crypt itself.

“Let’s just hope the skeleton knows his stuff,” he muttered. Two fingers scooped a thick dollop of the sticky mass from Krugor’s jar. Preparing himself for what came next, Elisdrasil puffed his breath several times and then rubbed the mushroom ointment over his injury.

The pain hit him like a hammer blow to the side of the head, sending an electric buzz through his brain that cut the rest of the world out. But Elisdrasil didn’t falter, and rubbed the wound until a thin layer of paste covered the whole thing. Then he scooped out another glob and did it again.

Surprisingly, his finger had started tingling by the time he finished and by the time he’d reset his armor in place, his hip had too. The tingling felt like tiny prickling needles at first, which numbed the area where the paste had been, but then it blossomed into a serious but comfortable warmth. Elisdrasil let it sit for another minute while Krugor finished his search.

Crashing stone cut Elisdrasil’s reverie short and he was on his feet the instant the baby golem made itself known. His hip still ached terribly, but the warmth from the medicine had definitely cut the intensity of it down.

“Handy stuff to have,” he thought, grabbing his sword. “Too bad it smells like rotten cheese soaked in cat piss though.”

He studied the baby golem with unabashed curiosity. Golems were constructed creatures, not naturally born. For the baby golem to exist, it had to have been created that way and then tied to the protector golem magically as a maternal figure. It made little sense to Elisdrasil, be it certainly fit with the oddness that had surrounded Kulthas Shuul.

“Bring it with us,” he finally said to Krugor. “The entrance to the Crypt has to be around here somewhere. He might prove useful once we can get Sarl Krieg’s wards down.”

Sheathing his sword, Elisdrasil gritted his teeth and limped further into the forest.