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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Jon Potter" data-source="post: 293827" data-attributes="member: 2323">Part 7: Two on TwoKarak took a step back, jostling his brother in the process."This might be a good time ta pray, me chalak," the warrior muttered but the cleric had ideas of his own."Ye take tha left, I'll take tha right," Malak answered.The first of the walking corpses swung its stiffened fist at Karak but the dwarf fended off the blow with his axe. As he swung back, Malak was surprised to hear his brother praying under his breath."Shaharizod, guide me axe ta be true," he said, "tha blade sharp, and me swing swift."The Silver Queen apparently heard his plea, because the war axe bit hungrily into the corpse's groin. It was a blow that would have crippled a living opponent. The walking dead jerked in the doorway and came on, advancing even as Karak fell back.Malak ducked in behind the animated corpse and swung at the creature behind it. His scimitar whistled through the air near the thing's left shoulder. The undead thing swung back at the cleric, its fist missing the dwarf's chest by a few inches.Karak held his axe defensively, fending off a blow meant to connect with his head. As his opponent gathered itself for another swing, he struck again with his war axe. The heavy blade severed the creature's right hand and cleaved through its chest in one blow. All at once, the unnatural light went out of its eyes and it crumpled - lifeless once more - to the cold floor.Malak dodged another clumsy blow and his scimitar flashed out in response. The blade bit through the frozen flesh on the thing's left shoulder. It staggered but seemed otherwise unaffected."Step aside, me chalak," Karak called and the Battleguard dodged to the left. His brother took the opening to come back into the room axe first. His footing was poor amid the broken furniture, however, and his great blade missed its target by a wide margin.Malak's plunging scimitar opened a massive wound in the thing's chest. The blade lodged momentarily amidst the corpse's ribs, making the Battleguard pause to pull it free. The corpse, seemingly unperturbed by the weapon buried in its torso, backhanded the dwarf's head. He staggered backward, freeing his sword as he went."For tha clan's honor!" Karak roared, swinging his war axe in a huge arc that took the walking corpse's head from its shoulders. The body crumpled to the floor as the head careened off the far wall and landed with a thud among the shattered furniture in the corner.The dwarves' eyes met and Malak smiled."For tha clan's honor, huh?" he asked, touching the corner of his mouth. His fingers came away wet with blood. "I've nae heard that battle cry since we both took tha Rite o' Leavin' tha Hearth."Karak looked to make sure his axe was free of gore and shrugged."Sometimes tha old words be tha best words," he said. "Are ye badly hurt?""Nothin' a dwarf kinna handle," Malak replied and fished out his medical kit. While he attended to his split lip, Karak poked around cautiously through the debris and found nothing. As he looked down at the staring, glassy eyes on the severed head he scowled."What do ye think our next move should be, me chalak?" he asked.Malak glanced up at his brother."Let me ask ye this," he said, "how many o' them beasts do ye suppose are walkin' tha halls o' this place?"Karak looked at the scattered remains on the floor and shook his head silently."Surely, Arngrim dinna expect th' brothers would be greetin' us like this, so what be goin' on here?" He applied a bit of styptic to his lip and scowled at the bitter sting. Again his pause was met with Karak's silence."We'd best be checkin' on tha weather," the cleric added and went about the process of packing up his kit. "I'm feelin' that we might be overstayin' our welcome here.""A goodly idea," Karak nodded and grimly trudged back to the hallway.There was another door on the right hand wall, almost across from the one that they had just exited. It was firmly closed, however and showed no signs of having been battered. Malak approached it and checked it for any obvious traps, found none and pulled it open.Beyond was a small room, perhaps ten feet on a side. The door was set into the left-hand corner of the room and door was set in the opposite wall. Pegs on the walls held several robes in both brown and white, and several pairs of slippers were lined up beneath them on the floor. As soon as they opened the door, a cold breeze began to swirl around their ankles, howling beneath the door in the opposite wall."Outside?" Malak muttered hoarsely into his brother's ear."Sounds like it," Karak growled in response.They crossed the small room to the opposite door and Malak performed his usual checks. The sound of the wind was very loud around the door, and the icy fingers of air clawed at their exposed flesh. With a hesitant glance at Karak to make sure the warrior was ready, Malak pulled the door open.The doorway was in the back of a small alcove that opened in turn onto a larger room. They walked forward to get a better look at the place. An empty hearth was set directly to their right, forming one wall of the alcove. A closed door and two open windows were set in the opposite and left-hand walls of the room. The windows' shutters were waving back and forth in the wind.They could see that night had fully settled in outside but the storm seemed just as bad - or worse - than before. If they hadn't gotten to the monastery, dwarf or no, they would have died from exposure if they'd stayed camped out in the weather.Piles of snow covered the floor of what the dwarves assumed had once have been a library; the shutters of the two glass-less windows must have been blown open by the wind. In some places, the snow had drifted to chest-height in the room. Several tables were visible above the snow and pieces of fluttering parchment poked out in some places. In the far corner of the room, near the door, a crumbled shape was leaning against the wall - the preserved corpse of another monk. Clutched in its frost-covered hand was an unlit torch held out almost like one would hold out a holy symbol to ward of evil. Despite the fact that the body hadn't been ravaged as the other two had, the well-preserved face of the corpse was frozen in a hideous rictus of fear and hatred."This just keeps gettin' better an' better," Karak muttered under his breath.A gust of wind kicked up, grabbed one of the fluttering sheets of parchment, and sent it flying toward the dwarves. Karak raised his axe and caught the sheet on the blade. Whatever had been written on it was smudged into illegibility, but both dwarves could clearly smell the fact that the sheet had been completely soaked in oil.</blockquote>

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