The Iron Tower
Rowri was too dazed and in too much pain to think, let alone do much. Perrima, at his side, was all the more agitated. She tended to his wounds, adding something that spread a numbing chill through his hurt arm. Then she left him for a while. When she come back, she brought three White Berets with full packs on their backs. Quickly, she explained that she was leaving this troop to go to the Iron Tower, but first, she had to find Tindri and the others and help them if it was still possible to save their lives. Still in confusion, Rowri allowed the group to lead him away. For some reason, he noticed that the monk with the purple eye joined them quietly as well.
It was impossible to say how long they spent trudging through the wet White Moss forest to circle around the battle lines, but eventually, they spotted the dying embers of the camp fires near the battleground. The ground was littered with body parts and corpses from both sides. At first, they could see no trace of their companions, but then Tindri stood up in front of them. They thought that grey outline had been a stone, but it was her, hiding under her elven cloak. To their relief, the found both Albrich and Sir Rolande alive, albeit barely. While the wolven set up a perimeter and gathered supplies, Perrima and Tindri went to work tending to the wounded.
Suddenly, something stirred at the desolate place. Tindri saw it first. The corpse of Abrelax....was.....moving. Twitching. It was like a ripple across the field as body parts and corpses suddenly jerked, and then slowly move. Tindri's quick reflexes gave them some extra time, before some of the soldiers, now undead, rose to their feet, and they scrambled as fast as they could to assemble everything they could grab and leave. The wolven had to carry their own packs as well as the fully armoured Albrich and Sir Rolande. There was just not possible to run under the heavy load, but step by step, they slowly made some distance between themselves and the undead, who seemed completely unconcerned by them, turning towards the West instead.
Tindri's agitation was palpable. There had been no necromancer there, no spellweaving over the battlefield yet the dead rose. It was not natural. It was a flagrant violation of the order of the gods. She had never seen anything like it. How could it be? The night had no answers.
They made themselves a temporary shelter among the White Moss trees to get a little bit of rest. When they woke up, it was already noon, but as quiet as before. Between Tindri and Perrima, the three wounded warriors were soon on their feet again, still hurting from the battle, but able to at least walk on their own. Thus began their journey to the Iron Tower, across the glacier.
It took just more than a week. On the way, they managed to meet up with the Kvur tribe, which sent about two dozen warriors, hunters and healers, including two fuzzards with riders, and the two giants. The dragon was nowhere to be seen, and Perrima, who now took the lead, eager to avenge her order, would not wait. Ice cracks and blizzards could not stop her, only slow her down, as she was now in her element.
Finally, they arrived at the volcanic crater where the tower stood. Sir Rolande has taken command of the troops and asked the giants to remain out of sight for now, while the Kvurs and wolven did scouting ahead. Nothing stirred, and they could press forward all the way to the bridge unopposed. They found a closed tomb, covered up by a mound there, but also some barracks, with the unmistakable remains of orc warriors. Tindri snarled at this, suddenly as intent on revenge as Perrima was.
They took position there for now, to do scouting missions in the area as they needed more information about what they were up against. There was no sign of the flying demons, no sight of orcs wandering about, and no one spotted any undead shambling about. Still, for now, they did not dare to venture out on the bridge, which was obviously exposed and had no cover to speak of.
The afternoon was slowly giving way to night when the gates of the Iron Tower swung open, and a procession emerged. Orc warriors and undead, both skeletons and zombies, surrounded the group, which was led by about a dozen red cloaked shagulites, their green skins reflecting the lights from their torches and lanterns. Tindri spotted Sir Roland's brother in the crowd, marching right next to some form of leader, judging by the strange staff he was holding. To her dismay, she realized his skin was green already. While Perrima dug into her pack to get the mumified head of the holy man of her order, Sir Roland clenched his teeth in rage and agreed that they were too late to save his brother. Thus, Tindri snuck down the cliff face towards the crater surface. Cautiously, she ventured out across the warm by solid lava crust, making her way to the first bridge pillar.
She found the dwarven rune easily enough, pulled out the stone and drew the sprint hidden inside. Then she hurried back. Behind her, the pillar cracked, then swayed, then collapsed forwards, bringing with it the rest of the pillars down like dominos, all of it crashing down through the crust. In an instant, the heart of the shagulite sect burned to a cinder, leaving only a pool of frothing lava behind.
Tindri and Rowri jumped in joy, but Albrich and Sir Rolande were somber, thinking of all that had been lost on the way and the long journey home. The moment did not last long, however, as they were disturbed by a rumbling sound behind them. Looking back, they saw that the tomb in the mound had opened, its door fallen out on the ground. They approached very cautiously, weapons at the ready, the tombs of Cruri in fresh memory.
Some light did emanate from the darkness inside, and when they had acclimatized their eyes, they saw a dusty chamber with purple wall-hangings and a purple rug on the floor. Tindri noted that someone had been walking across it, back and forth, so much that it had been worn out in a circular pattern. A closed wooden door led further into the tomb.
It swung open, revealing a human. He was very thin, dressed in simple black robes, bald and with a purple eye that looked at them with bemused interest. He looked exactly like the monk Mogerland, who started mumbling and muttering, wondering what was going on. The man explained that he was Shagul, and thanked Sir Roland and his retinue for their help. He then turned to the monk and explained that they were the same, which Mogerland just would not accept. Instead, he broke down, desperately trying to untangle what was going on.
The man that called himself Shagul addressed Sir Rolande and explained that he had filled an important role in completing the objectives Shagul had set out for him, lifting the curse over king Ottar in Cruri. This, Shagul said, would allow himself to become the ruler of the world. With that, he said goodbye and invited them to leave and go to Clusta Noba, as Arhem was no doubt destroyed by now.
Sir Roland was not amused, nor was anyone else in the retinue. They exchanged looks momentarily. Then they charged. Shagul only had time to get a surprised look on his face before they tore into him with their weapons, and a moment later, his head rolled across the ground.
As they prepared to put away their weapons, Shagul appeared again in the same doorway. He had not teleported, as his body was still on the floor. There were two Shaguls, three if Mogerland was one, too. Shagul simply said that they could not kill him, but they didn't give him the chance to finish his sentence before they charged and once again gave him a messy death.
They decided to proceed further into the tomb to see if they could find more Shaguls. The next chamber was a mess. The floor had torn up clothes, shredded books and furniture all across the room. In a bed, an ancient woman lay. She raised her hand to talk, but was too weak, and could not produce any sounds.
The tomb stretched further into the mound, and in the next room, they found a long table, where every seat had a glass waiting for a guest. On a stone throne at the far end sat another Shagul. This time, he started to invoke some spell, but before he had a chance to complete his weaving, Tindri nailed his neck to the back of the throne with a well aimed arrow, and the others charged again to kill him quickly.
They saw no more Shaguls, but suspected that there might be more, and that there was something that allowed Shagul to keep reappearing. Maybe it was the woman. She was still in her bed, hardly a live, but not dead. When Tindri came to her side, she weakly gestured with her finger across her throat. She wanted to die. And Rowri fulfilled her wish. Moments later, they heard Mogerland outside suffering a heart attack and fall dead as well. It seemed that they were right.
As a final reassurance, they took all body parts and material from the tomb and threw it in the lava. As they did, they saw Perrima coming running across the lava crust. She had come out of the Iron Tower, and behind her, it collapsed into the lava, following the bridge. Just before it was swallowed, a demon flew away with a shagulite in its claws.
And that was the end of the Iron Tower and Sir Rolande's and his retinues adventures on Marjura.