Virtus in unitate

Virtus in unitate

The ancient door creaked eerily under the midnight moon. "That’ll do", said the Warrior to his two fellows, a bearded Inquisitor and a female Elf magician. The temple was four hundred years old, but it was not meant to last that long. Thirty years ago, during the Dark Wars, it was initially overran by the undead horde and, when the tides of war turned, was subsequently burned down by the Inquisitors, to cleanse the sacred grounds from the scourge that had defiled them. Rumor had it that numerous treasures were buried in the lower levels of the structure, especially the Censer of the High Priest, a powerful and valuable artifact. But rumor also had it that not all abominations were purged by the sacred fires of the Inquisition. Those rumors had kept this place untrodden by villagers nearby. Those and the foul moans that were sometimes heard at night.

The heavy door now seemed like a gaping mouth, inviting them into the unknown.

“After you, ma’am”, joked the Warrior.

“Very funny”, said the Witch. “I told you I’m not going in there first. So, what’s the plan ?”

“We proceed carefully, as discussed. Dispatch all undead in each level, before proceeding to the next. We leave no one behind”, explained the Warrior.

“Are you sure it’s going to work ?”, said the Witch.

“Have no fear”, the Warrior reassured her. “The scattered parties of the undead are no match for our combined skills. We got crushing power in my mace, purging spells in his book and deadly fire at your fingertips. Our backpacks are full of healing potions, and the inn is only a few hours away, in case we need to replenish our energy and heal our wounds. What more could anybody hope for?”

“A good omen by our side, perhaps ? Look ”, said the Inquisitor, pointing a finger. Above the gate, carved in stone, stood the motto of the ancient temple: Virtus in Unitate. “If we stay together, we win”.

“Nothing like a good old dungeon crawl, consistent with adventuring traditions all over the continent. Perhaps not original, but certainly reliable”, ruled the Warrior self-complacently.

The party moved in and the Inquisitor commanded a Daylight spell, shining twenty feet across the stone corridor. “Nobody move”, said the Warrior. They stood and listened. Nothing. Just some mice squeaks, then silence.
"Knock yourself out", said the Warrior and nodded to the Witch. She moved her hands to create the "Detect undead" spell, to reveal any undead that might lurk nearby. She closed her eyes and looked into her nightmares, ready to identify them nearby by the help of her magic. After a minute, she opened her eyes and ruled: “nothing”.

"We move", said the Warrior and walked first forward. The Inquisitor took out a map and a pen, and noted their route with red ink. "According to the Chief Inquisitor's memoirs, the bunker must be just around the corner."
Indeed, they reached the corridor with a big room at the end. The door was, of course, locked.

"This is it", said the Inquisitor. "The door is locked, but that would be no problem, would it ?", he turned to the Wizard.

She chanted the Knock spell for a while, the lock creaked and grumbled but it did not open. "It's stuck, step aside", said the Warrior and kicked the door with his armored leg, so hard that pieces fell of the roof. The lock was intact, but the hinges on the other side were not.

"Well, what do you think of my magic ?", he blinked to the Witch.

Here it was, the storage room. They found some personal belongings, among of which the pendant of the Order of the Clouds, a unique golden artifact with a sapphire cameo in the middle, depicting a winged man coming down from the skies.

"This is priceless, I wonder what else is there for us to find ", the Inquisitor said.

"We will soon find out", said the Warrior.

The dungeon map was accurate, so it was easy to locate the stairs to the lower level.

"In this floor are the monk chambers", said the Inquisitor.

There were indeed eight small rooms, with nothing but a straw bed inside. They only found a skull in one of the chambers, and nothing else. The Inquisitor respectfully picked it up and hid it under his red-purple vestments.

"This should be buried where it belongs".

“What are you doing ? Are you crazy ? “, complained the Witch.

“Relax, there’s nobody around. They are clumsy, can be heard from yards away. “, replied the Warrior.

“You said we would not rush in. You said we would detect first, move second. That was the plan, wasn’t it ? What kind of a professional are you, anyway ?”

“You are right, I guess. Ok, get on with it”.

Another “detect undead” spell later, all was calm.

“See ? I told you”, said the Warrior. “They are not here. If they were crawling all over the dungeon, we would have known by now, wouldn’t we ? There is only one level left below. We are more than half into the dungeon and still nothing. What does that tell you ?”

“Maybe they were all purged. Maybe they were never here in the first place. Who knows”, said the Inquisitor.

The Witch’s attitude changed. “Then let’s not waste any more time. You are right, enough with this detection nonsense. Let’s grab the censer or whatever and get the hell out of here. Please!”

With heightened morale because of the ease of their mission, the party descended to the third and last floor of the dungeon. The end of the stairway was barred by an iron door. The Inquisitor touched the door while looking at his map.

"This is where my ancestors made their final stand", he said. "The Holy Water fountain. There could be plenty of artifacts to salvage from this place. Shall we ?".

The door was unlocked. As soon as they entered the wide room, the Inquisitor's holy light faded out and an aura of nightmare touched their face . The Inquisitor chanted again but no voice came out of his mouth. To their desperation, they discovered that not only they could not see, but they could not communicate with each other anymore.

"Silence spell!", shouted the Warrior, but nobody heard him. The party was no more. The Witchwas crying in fear, cuddling in some corner. The Inquisitor was praying to himself.

The Warrior frantically searched his backpack for a torch. When he lit it, what they saw froze their veins with fear. More than twenty undead humans, led by a Lich in the middle, were staring at them fearlessly.

With an evil grin permanently carved on his hideous face, the Lich snapped its fingers and the silence spell went away. Then he spoke, with a hissing, joking voice:

"We 've been waiting for you.. is this what you ‘ve been looking for ?”, it said, wiggling the sacred censer back and forth.

The foul picture broke the Witch down and she cried in panic.

“You said we would dispatch them easily! You said they would be scattered all over the place! You said that’s what they do!”, she accused the Warrior.

The Warrior did not reply. It was common knowledge among adventurers that any amount of undead could be destroyed, provided the party was armed with some patience and with enough healing potions stacked inside a backpack. Even children knew that ! How could everyone be so wrong ?

“Ha ha ha!”, the Lich read his thoughts. “This reminds me of the fables I used to read to my children, when I was alive! You know, ‘Dungeons and Dragons’ and the like. Do you actually believe this nonsense ? That we would aimlessly walk in pairs, waiting eternally for three cowards like yourselves to dispatch us bit by bit ? You! Priest man! You did read the inscription above the gate, didn’t you ? Well ? What did it say ? ”

Defeated, the Inquisitor recalled what they had perceived as a favorable omen.

“Virtus in unitate”, he said. “Power in unison.”

Now they realized, too late, that the omen was not meant for them, but for the dead. It was not a motto anymore. It was a warning.

“Now, my children. Feast on those fools! And … take your time. Let’s make the most out of this gift, that our foul fate has unusually saved us for tonight.”

The door shut behind them. Horrible screams would scare the villagers once more tonight.