Roswell Hammond carefully made his way through the putrid caves that -
until now - had been serving as a hideout for the necromancer who had been
terrorizing his village for the past several weeks. As a devout follower of
Heironeous and a competent man-at-arms, it would have normally been his job to
eliminate the undead threat to his family and friends, but as the youngest of
three sons, he had to wait until his elder brothers deemed it necessary.
Today, finally, his brothers had deemed it necessary.
"Alright, everyone," his eldest brother Colin had announced to the ragtag
group of hopeful heroes he had gathered that morning. "We have put up with
this nonsense long enough. Tonight we head out to the necromancer's lair and
show him what we are truly capable of! Are you with me?" The group let out a
roar that seemed to come from far more than a dozen weary villagers. Aside
from Colin, who was armed with the family's treasured longsword and shield, no
one was armed with anything more advanced than a scythe.
"Ross, you ready for this?" Roswell looked up at his brother. "I know
you've been training a long time, but this is going to be a lot more dangerous
than sparring with me and Alan."
Looking at his own equipment, Ross grimaced. A sturdy club (actually a
table leg), a wooden shield (made from a pot lid), and an ancient suit of
leather armor that exposed more than it covered were hardly what he had hoped
for, but they were the best he could get. "Of course, brother. You know I've
been wanting to do this since the attacks started. Even if I'm as unprepared
as you seem to think I am, my faith in Heironeous will serve me well.
Confessor Lucas taught me as much."
"Dammit, I wish you wouldn't hang around that crackpot so much. You know
he's just going to..." Ross shook his head to clear the memories from earlier
in the day. He had to stay focused on the task at hand. "Come on, lads, we've
got ourselves some evil to slay!" The three villagers - people Ross knew, but
had no real relationship with until an hour ago - seemed no more enthusiastic
for the encouragement.
At the entrance to the cave, there had been a three-way
branch, so Colin had decided to split up and have each brother take part of
the total group with him. "It'll go faster this way," he had explained. Ross
wasn't so sure, but he knew better than to argue with his brother. Alan would
always back Colin, and he would he outnumbered two to one.
A sizzling sound and a cry of pain brought everyone to attention. "Come!"
shouted Ross. "The sounds came from this way!" They all perked up at the
thought of something to do and nearly ran to catch up with Ross, his eagerness
getting the better of him.
The sight that awaited him was hardly one to anticipate, however. They
arrived just in time to see Alan attempting to fend off two of the walking
dead. He was favoring his left side heavily and was surrounded by the
skeletons, who were taking advantage of their position to slowly chop away at
Alan through chips and bruises.
"ROSWELL HAMMOND!" his brother shouted desparately from between his two
foes. "OVER HE-" he was cut off as a magic missile, tinted a putrid shade of
green, shot out from the back of the room and silenced his voice forever.
Ross was stunned, but knew he had to act quickly. He ordered his men to
finish off the living skeletons and was about to charge in after them as
something grabbed his heel. Whirling around ready to strike, Ross stopped his
blow as he saw the broken visage of Colin staring up at him from a mound of
debris.
"Heh...just great," his brother coughed. "This is just like...in one of
those stupid stories Confessor Lucas is...always telling you. Here, take
these, and...honor our name, alright?" Colin nodded towards the sword and
shield on which he was still maintaining a feeble grip. "Now go on. Fight with
honor, and mourn us afterwards...brother." After finishing what Ross felt
would be his last words, Colin's eyes closed, exhausted from the effort.
Eyes filled with a steely resolve he had never before known, Ross grabbed
his brother's - or rather, his family's - equipment and turned to face the
enemy. Staring back at him was a creature that could only have been his
nemesis for the day, the evil wizard who had been terrorizing the village. The
men he had sent in to battle the undead were on the ground at his
feet, seemingly asleep. "WITH VALOR!!!" he screamed, the war cry coming from
somewhere deep within himself of which Ross had never before been aware, and
charged in towards the villain.
The wizard made some motions with his hands and Ross felt like yawning,
but he managed to shake the feeling off and continue his charge. He thought he
could detect a trace of fear in the wizard's eyes as he bore down upon his
opponent. He pulled his sword back, preparing for one thrust that would both
begin and end his battle and stared deep into his opponent's eyes. They were
full of an untold malice, and then...nothing. Nothing but fear and a little
bit of confusion, but it was too late for Ross to anything now but attack.
Or perhaps not. His hands refused to move, and he suddenly heard a voice
in his head. "Roswell," it spoke. "You have done well in following me, and
you have fought with honor this day." Somehow, he knew it was the voice of
Heironeous speaking directly to him. "But this man is not the enemy. He is
an unknowing pawn, one of hundreds that the forces of evil are using against
innocent people like the inhabitants of your town. You know what you must do."
With that, the force keeping Ross from moving Ross disappeared, along with
the rather frightened-looking wizard. "Nice job there, bro," said a familiar
voice from behind Ross. "Now wake those guys up and let's get out of here."
And so they did, with the newly-energized Colin limping behind, although on
which foot Ross could never remember.


Weeks later, Ross was about to leave town. Confessor Lucas was leaving
to visit the Church of Heironeous in one of the larger nearby cities, and he
had invited Ross to accompany him. Ross' family had kindly offered to give him
the family sword and shield - he had made better use of it than his brother,
who had been avoiding him ever since the events inside the cave. They had
given Alan a hero's burial to honor his sacrifice.
As the pair strode off in the midafternoon sun, Colin turned to his father
and said, "Finally. I thought we'd never get rid of him. Shame we had to give
him our stuff."
"It was worth it," replid his father, and they strode into the house.