"My lord, your wish is our command." The Excecutioner bowed deeply to the liche-lord. Hefting his axe, the massive Dreadlord made to leave.
"With your leave, master." he hissed.
Vekarin grinned ferrally as another Wight slid slowly to the ground, its skull crushed by Vekarin's massive strength. Within his armor, Vekarin was still faster than any mortal and blindingly fast compared to the undead and without the Plate of Kekarsarun's hinderance, he was a beast. Another Wight rounded on Vekarin, but before it could react and bring its cumbersome weapon to bear Vekarin had leaped over the fallen bones of his last victim, using the wall to propell him forward at his opponent. Vekarin was already running down the hall as the Wight's armored body fell to the ground with a clang.
Rounding a corner, Vekarin found what he was looking for; an ornate door guarded by two more skeletal warriors. Set into the wall and flanked by columns, Vekarin didn't need the Lahmian script engraved on the portal to tell him that this was what he needed. A fist crushed the first Wight's skull and Vekarin's pilfered knife cracked the face and baroque helm of the second. Both undead fell to the ground in heaps of bone and armor.
The knife had been forged to hack flesh and bone as easily as it did paper, yet as savagely and brutally as an axe. Putting his strength behind it, Vekarin thanked the Dreadlord's for leaving him such a sturdy tool as he drove it through the heavy bar on the other side of the door. Vekarin chuckled slightly to himself as he realized that Sentance was arrogant enough to leave the entrance to his most hoarded treasures unprotected by magic, and with a savage kick, broke through the remains of the bar. The door swung open with a thunderous clash.
Most of what Vekarin saw within the room held little interest to him. Dusty shelves of scrolls, urns, jars and tomes, racks of staffs, wands and scepters, jewels and gold with some properties of interest to the ancient Nechrarch sat gleaming in the light that now seemingly flooded the dark room, cast from lamps in the hall. Vekarin entered slowly, unsure that Sentance had not left any traps for would-be theives, but there were none. He looked around, and within moments found what he was looking for.
The Plate of Kekarsarun stood out from the rest of the room's contents quite well.
Centuries of practice allowed Vekarin to strap on the massive suit of armor within minutes, a task that would have taken a mortal much longer. Within the suit's confines, Vekarin felt at home, safe from a world that changed so much in so short a time. Now he was in control.
Faint footsteps in the stone hall behind him alterted him to the fact that his presence had been detected, and he began to look around the room quickly. A frantic search that left much of the room and it's priceless contents in ruins told Vekarin that his blade was not present, however his other weapons were. A sheild he found, and a long sword curving sword in the manner of Nehekharan weapons; too large for any normal man to wield comfortably with one hand, but Vekarin was trained in the use of such blades and he was anything but a normal man.
Vekarin turned to leave, but turned before passing through the door, striking his new weapon on the gauntlet of his armor. The Daemon within felt discomfort, but Vekarin cared not as the sparks it created lit the arcane scrolls that littered the floor of the chamber.
Vekarin grinned, Sentance would suffer greatly for his capture.
Framed by the light cast by the quickly-spreading inferno, Vekarin strode out the door to meet his enemies.
The Dreadlords would pay for their crimes.
OOC: Whoops, forgot to post this above. Oh well, the above post is too long anyway.
The great black iron gates of Nagashizzar swung open with a tortured groan, like the unearthly cries of some fell spirits. They did not do so to their full extent, not even a fraction of that width. They opened just enough to allow a single figure to speed out of them, riding on a dark Nightmare as full tilt, red cloak billowing out about her.