Tomb Queens- Part 4

The sounds of the jungle surrounded the two adventurers as they made their way towards the angled side of a hill. Spanner was in the lead, Beckyann following along behind him, attempting to keep her dress from snagging on the exposed roots and vegetation on the jungle's floor. Every now and then, Spanner would stop, the gnome holding up a small hand to halt his companion as he surveyed pages of hand-written notes that he'd pull from his jacket pocket. He'd mutter to himself before nodding and the two would continue on.

They navigated around the jungle-covered hillside deep within Stranglethorn Vale several times, searching for a specific spot or clue as to the whereabouts of their goal. After a time, Spanner found himself feeling tired, and he signaled to Beckyann that they would take another break. For her part, the undead woman merely rolled her eyes at the frailty of the living, crossing her arms and waiting patiently for the gnome to catch his second wind. As she waited though, something caught her eye above her shorter friend's head. With a smile on her face, she moved towards him, grabbing several overhanging branches and pushing them aside.

With wide eyes, she uncovered a flat, troll-built wall of stone that had been cleverly disguised in the side of the hill. She looked down at Spanner, her glee mirrored on his face, “It looks like you chose a fortunate spot to rest Spanner. I think this is it!”

The gnome leaped up, eagerly helping Beckyann as she pulled more of the foliage away, exposing the trollish glyphs there. With a whoop of glee he dashed over to his pack, pulling out the troll death mask and approaching the wall with it. He looked up at Beckyann, as if asking permission and she shrugged and nodded. Happily the gnome placed the mask over his face, studying the glyphs through the eye sockets before reaching forward and placing his hands against two carefully carved glyphs on the wall. The ancient stone began to blaze with magical light as a spell many hundreds of years old flared into existence, the wall grinding as it slowly receded into the side of the hill, leaving a gaping opening before the two adventurers.

Beckyann smiled, actually clapping Spanner on the back as she peered into the darkness, “You did it! WE did it! By the heavens I can't believe we actually found it!”

Spanner nodded, reaching to his belt and pulling out a flare. He twisted the bottom, igniting the flaming stick and holding it up before walking towards the opening, still wearing the mask on his head. “Shall we then Miss Eastberg?”

Beckyann wasted no time, and soon the two had left the jungle behind them as they delved into the depths of a troll tomb that had not seen the tread of living people for longer than the two adventurers could imagine. The very start of the tomb was rather decrepit, weather and time having allowed some of the stones to be washed clean of the paintings that had covered them.

As the two pressed in further though, the light from Spanner's flare revealed masterful artwork painted on the walls, depicting the rise of a great voodoo priestess whom the two knew from their studies had later become known as the 'Hexmistress'. As they pushed in deeper, the paintings changed from a glorious display of the female troll's rise to the horrific end result of her seemingly endless power. Beckyann paused, turning to study several of the more morbid and sadistic drawings, enjoying the images greatly and thinking that they would likely fit well on the walls of Acherus.

For his part, Spanner ignored the paintings, pushing further ahead. As he came towards a sealed door, Beckyann's voice shouted out behind him, “Wait! There's a trap! I can sense the magic!”

Spanner froze in mid-step as he heard Beckyann's boots pounding on the stones behind him. The death knight ran up, grabbing him by the shoulder and roughly pulling him back. She looked him over once to ensure he was not injured before closing her eyes and turning towards the door. Her hands rose up as she tried to sense the magic. There was something familiar about it, something that tickled the back of her mind. She smiled as she realized that it was necromancy, and divined the purpose of the spell.

With a casual shrug she stepped forward, touching the stone door at the end of the corridor. Instantly torches flared to life up and down the corridor and likely throughout the tomb as its traps came to life, and a haze of deep purple energy bathed the death knight before filtering into the floor. Beckyann merely stood there, shrugging again before pushing the door open. She turned to look at Spanner, amusement on her face.

“The spell would have stopped your heart. Pity that such a trap is useless on me hmm?” she purred.

Spanner shivered once, thinking that his undead companion could be a bit creepy at times before he too shrugged and moved towards the doorway. Together they both passed into a larger, wider chamber that was illuminated by burning magical torches. The room seemed rather plain, with about five sealed doors around its perimeter and a tiled mosaic floor depicting a large troll warrior hurling a spear at a voodoo priestess inscribed on the floor.

“Well, we've many options to choose from,” Beckyann said with a smile, stepping into the room. Behind her, Spanner slipped the mask from his head, gazing in wonder around the room.

“We'll have to translate the markings over the door, it shouldn't be a problem,” he said as he nodded. “We just need to find the one marked as the tomb's throne room which is where the energy source was supposedly located. The mask might even have clues to such translations in it!”

As he spoke, he stepped onto a different part of the mosaic, his boot coming down on a triangular piece of colored stone. Rather than support his weight, it sunk into the floor with a click. For a heart-wrenching moment, Spanner's eyes met Beckyann's from across the room before a tripwire lashed out around his ankle, snaring it and then hauling him upwards. The unfortunate gnome found himself dragged upside down nearly to the ceiling, the death mask and many of his possessions raining down from his pockets as he dangled and spun on the wire.

Beckyann giggled with amusement as she watched her companion dangle from the ceiling. She quickly, but carefully walked towards him, checking the tiles by prodding them with her boot before putting her weight on them. She finally got beneath him, looking up with a smile on her black lips, she joked lightly “Spanner, this is no time to hang around, we've got more discoveries to make!”

As Beckyann reached up to try and grab her companion, his retort was cut short by the distinct sound of the hammer on a gun being primed, both death knight and gnome paused, turning to look back towards the tomb's entrance.

Standing there, a grin on her face and a pistol in her hand, stood the female goblin Bix. She looked somewhat worse for wear, her clothing torn in places and her hair singed from the fires that had spread along the docks in Booty Bay the previous evening. She leaned against the entrance to the room, casually covering the two with her pistol.

“Looks like you two morons did most of the work for me after all,” she said in a high-pitched squeak. “Sadly for you, no one crosses me and gets away with it. That'd be bad for business dolls. The mask is mine, and so's the power source in this tomb.”

Beckyann glared at the goblin, taking a step towards her. Bix casually brought her pistol up and pulled the trigger, putting a shot in Beckyann's belly. The bullet ripped through her dress, plunging deep in her flesh and causing black ichor to ooze out. Beckyann ignored the shot at first, still moving towards the goblin. Such weapons normally would cause her only a dull ache, and she certainly no longer needed the organs that the round had penetrated.

This time though something was different. She took two steps forward before unimaginable agony wracked her form. She convulsed, sinking to her knees and then falling on her side, twitching with pain. Bix smirked at her, walking up and standing over her for a moment.

“Got some light-blessed shot here doll,” she purred over the agonized death knight. “Figured it might come in handy dealing with you.” Her grin widened and she pulled the hammer on the pistol back again, pressing the muzzle of the weapon to Beckyann's head for a moment before pulling it away.

“I'd put one in your head, but then you wouldn't get to see me win the prize,” the goblin laughed. She kicked Beckyann once before walking beneath Spanner and scooping the death mask from the floor. She gave the upside down gnome a mocking salute before slipping the mask over her face and studying the doors to the adjoining rooms. Nodding to herself, she walked towards one, leaving a parting comment for Spanner over her shoulder, “Thanks for doing the legwork for me Spanner! Pleasure doing business with you as always!” With a laugh the goblin pressed her hands against a few carvings set into the wall near one of the doors, sliding the stone open magically and moving past the doors into the distant throne room beyond.

As Spanner watched helplessly from his position near the ceiling, Beckyann twitched on the ground. She rolled over, a muffled scream escaping her as she probed the wound in her belly. The flesh had healed over, the properties of the Light causing the shot to be sealed deep in her tainted flesh. She coughed, black ichor spewing from her mouth and running down her chin.

“L-little c-cretin is going t-to pay,” she managed to gasp out. She brought a shaking hand up to her head, Spanner watching curiously as she began to undo the tight bun that she kept her golden locks in. As her hair spilled free of its restraints, her hand grabbed a long, thin piece of metal that she used as a hairpin. The object was made of saronite, and came to a razor fine point that a living woman likely would not have wanted near her neck and head. It also had three death runes inscribed on it.

Without looking at the gnome, Beckyann brought the hairpin up and plunged it into her own gut, mercilessly penetrating the flesh to dig around the projectile lodged within her. Black ichor oozed out of the fresh wound, the death runes on the hairpin glowing with a purple light as they prevented healing. Within moments the wound had been widened, and Beckyann plunged her other hand into the opening, her fingers dragging out the light-blessed shot with a disgusting sucking noise before she gasped and let the little metal ball fall from her hand. It rolled across the room, coming to rest near the door frame as the sound of Beckyann's hairpin tumbling to the stone floor could be heard.

For a moment, the undead woman simply lay as a corpse on the floor, black, brackish blood oozing from her wounds and staining the stones. After a time, her eyes shifted, locking on Spanner before she braced herself and slowly dragged herself to her feet, looking more like an unsteady ghoul than a death knight in her stride.

“That hurt like all the fires of the burning legion,” she muttered. She took a step before stumbling sideways, reaching out and grabbing one of the torch sconces on the wall to steady herself. To her great surprise, the torch yanked downward, the entire assembly a secret lever. With a rumbling noise a hidden door in the chamber's wall opened, revealing a glittering display of gems, gold, and precious items piled in a secret room. Deadly spiders and other creatures crawled amongst the piled treasure, and Spanner shivered as he watched them, suddenly glad he was elevated above floor level.

For her part, Beckyann pushed herself away from the wall, looking at the treasure in wonder. While it represented a significant amount of wealth, something else within called to her. She stepped into the room, ignoring the creatures amongst the piles of treasure and even the valuables themselves. She reached into a pile, seemingly at random, pulling out a jeweled hairclip. She held it, studying its golden form and the sparkling gems on it, shivering as she felt the strong currents of magic flowing through it.

She knew without a doubt that it contained necromancy, but the form and strength of it was like nothing she had seen. The spells were intricate and made by the most advanced of necromancers; it would take her several days to determine its purpose if it was even within her skill. Not wanting to part with the treasure, she took the clip and placed it in her own hair, fixing the mess she'd made when using her hairpin to remove the shot from her gut.

She turned and walked back into the room, giving Spanner a look before heading in the direction Bix had gone. Spanner began to protest but she kept walking, her voice growing softer as she moved off, “I have to Spanner. We can't let her get whatever is in this place. I have to stop her now, or it'll be too late. I'll come back for you, I promise.”

With that, Beckyann moved into the corridor that Bix had taken, following the narrow space deeper into the tomb's structure. Up ahead, an eerie blue glow filtered down the passageway, and Beckyann picked up her pace, sprinting into the adjoining room.

As she entered, she skidded to a halt, her eyes wide with shock. Bix was in the middle of a large, columned throne room, a tomb throne designed to hold dead royalty or tribal leaders. At the other end of the large open space a huge throne had been erected of stone with golden patterns inlaid into it. Atop the throne sat the mummy of a dead troll, a field of swirling blue magic surrounding the structure. Before it, Bix knelt, chanting something with the death mask still over her face.

“NO! STOP AT ONCE! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING!” Beckyann yelled. She lurched forward, knowing even as she moved it was already too late. Everything fell into place now. The tomb. The traps. The artifacts. The 'infinite source of power'. She knew what sat upon the throne. It was clear as the clearest cloud-free day.

It was far too late unfortunately.

Bix completed her incantation and suddenly the blue glow around the throne failed, plunging the chamber into darkness for a moment. All along the chamber's edges torches flared bright purple as magical energies were unleashed within the chamber and a hideous laugh echoed through the room. A new blue glow began, and Beckyann faltered in its light.

Atop the throne, the mummy had shriveled, it's form collapsing onto itself as necromantic energies grew. Beckyann could feel them pulsing against her flesh and a cold thrill ran down her spine from a spot atop her head as her body and the objects on her person responded to the magic. She watched in horror as a form slowly condensed into existence atop the throne, a thing that was easily recognizable, despite its race and age.

A lich. The Hexmistress had become a lich in ancient times, and her tribe had thrown her down and sealed her away, her 'infinite power' locked safely beneath the jungle for all this time, only to be freed now by the bungling misdeeds of a group of treasure-seeking adventurers.

The lich hovered over her throne, her laughter mocking now as she looked down at Bix. She waved her hand and the little goblin shuddered, falling forward on her death mask covered face as her soul was torn from her flesh. The corpse trembled, rising slowly in undeath, even as the corpses of ancient troll guardians began to rise in the corners of the room, coming to the call of their tribal leader, to the call of the voodoo priestess that had taken things much much too far.

The lich pointed at Beckyann, the same spell washing over her but having no effect except perhaps that her eyes glowed a little more brightly. She paused, her gaze locked on the lich's.

“So mon, you be thinkin' to rob me tomb?” the lich said, the voice hollow and cold. “I be free now, and da tribe be mine fer all eternity. You be joinin' da tribe soon. You and da others. These be MY lands now.”

The creature gestured and slowly the tomb guards began to shamble towards Beckyann. Bix's corpse also turned, starting to walk towards the death knight. For her part, Beckyann merely stared at the undead walking towards her, completely unconcerned. The sight of Bix converted into a mindless undead servant actually made a small giggle escape her.

“You be thinkin' dis funny mon?” the lich said, sounding irritated. “Your soul be mine now!”

Beckyann rolled her eyes and pointed, death gripping the pistol from Bix's belt. She brought the weapon up, casually putting the second light-blessed shot into the unfortunate goblin, watching as the undead creature squealed and burst into flames. She tossed the spent weapon aside, staring the Lich down.

“I am a Knight of the Ebon Blade,” she said, her tone menacing. “Lesser undead do not command me. Withdraw your guards, or suffer.”

The lich began to laugh, the sound horrible and mocking, echoing from the stone walls of the chamber. It pointed, and the undead increased their pace, many dozens of them holding rotten, rusted weapons from ancient times. Beckyann merely shrugged and reached up, removing the hairclip from her head and holding it in the palm of her hand.

If a lich could look shocked, this one would have at this moment. It reared back on its throne, staring at Beckyann in disbelief, “How is dis possible?! Return that ta me at once!”

Beckyann smiled, holding the hairclip up, “Return what? Oh this? It looks good on me, don't you think? It definitely kept my hair in place. Of course, I wouldn't really want to go around with a phylactery on my head you know?”

The lich hissed at her, and the undead charged at her, howls rising up. Beckyann just offered the lich a sweet smile before her other hand came up and applied pressure to the hairclip. It snapped in half in her inhuman grip.

“Oops..” she said with a giggle.

The hairclip blazed with foul necromantic magic as its confines were shattered. Howling troll spirits flew from it, rising in a cloud around the death knight, their passing sending a wind that blew the hem of her dress wildly and made her hair flare around her face. The charging undead in the room cowered in fear as the spirits raged in a swirling mass around the undead human. They tried to claw at her, their dead hands passing through her insubstantially before their howling increased in pitch, their forms flying through Beckyann's body as they homed in on their true target.

As they homed in on the lich. The troll voodoo priestess that had sacrificed them in life to create a phylactery for herself in death. The priestess who had destroyed her own tribe for a mistaken grab at immortality.

Their rage was endless, and they swarmed the creature, each one tearing a little bit from her. The howling winds of their assault were so powerful that Beckyann actually shielded her face, the sound deafening. Within moments the attack was over, the vengeful spirits having torn the soul of the voodoo priestess to pieces, the lich scattered to the wind.

Light died in the tomb, only the dull glow of torches illuminating the place now as the dead tomb guards fell into crumpled heaps. Beckyann carefully stepped over them, walking towards the throne where the lich had been imprisoned. Upon it were the wrappings that had encased her body, and Beckyann swept them aside with a crinkled brow, cleaning the throne before sinking into it. Upon one of the arms she found a golden tiara that had been used to crown the would-be queen of the dead, and Beckyann smiled as she picked the object up, studying it. The thing was priceless, and even minus the costs of the losses that the gnomes had suffered she'd be able fund many future expeditions after this.

With a contented sigh, Beckyann took the tiara and settled it in her golden hair, leaning back on the throne and looking over the crumpled remains of her enemies and the goblin Bix. The room had, for a moment there, contained three forces vying for control of the treasure and power in this place. Only one had prevailed though, only one person still moved in the silence.

The tomb could have only one Queen after all.

Beckyann's laughter echoed down the long winding corridor, the giggling reaching Spanner where he hung upside down. The gnome found himself laughing as well, knowing that his companion had prevailed and that he stood a reasonable chance of being lowered down gently rather than shot down now. All in all, it had been quite the adventure, and by the looks of the treasure piled in the next room, a profitable one as well.

The end!