s every eye strained to see what manner of man might speak so bold to the Paladin, for a moment it didn’t appear that they would get to find out. For though he moved out of his shadowed booth and into the middle of the room, the first several steps left him still shrouded in shadows. Morokai blinked, but still couldn’t make out the figure. There was the shape of a man, tall and slender, but for actual details, only a hooded figure in a cape was visible. Blackness was all around him, tenebrous tentacles of ebony that were drifting away and slowly dissipating, like living smoke.

Men at tables between the dark figure and the Paladin scooted their chairs out of his patch, gasping at the chill as the dark substance oozing off of the man touched them and faded away.

Even now, standing full in the light of the tavern’s torches, the dark figure remained an enigma. He was tall and very thin, with a ragged black cloak covering every inch of him. The hood wasn’t drawn over his face that far, but the darkness issuing forth from beneath it kept him from being seen. Only a slight disturbance in the darkness as his lips moved let Morokai be sure that there was even a face under there.

"Let your lesson begin now, Paladin. Prove to me, and all of us, that you can so easily defeat your so-called 'Soulless Devils'."

As he spoke, the dark figure began to weave his arms in a complex pattern of gestures, and accompanied this with low chanting in a language Morokai had never heard before. For the first time, Morokai noticed that the man was holding a staff. How could I not have seen that straight off? Morokai wondered to himself. It was a beautiful staff, carven of black wood and studded around the head and length with white and clear gems. They could have been diamonds and opals; or bits of glass and soap stone. Morokai could not assess their value without a closer evaluation, and that he was not likely to request. Whatever their class and value, the stones set into the staff began to shine as the incantation progressed. White light flared within them, shining like a flame through a heavy fog.

The Paladin stood at the ready, his hammer still clenched in his fist. The unwritten rules of a Lesson Taught prohibited direct physical attacks by either party, but it was clear the Paladin feared some mischief at any moment as the dark figure continued to weave his spell.

After several more seconds the dark one ceased his movements with a final slash of his staff, and one last shouted word. "Aahkathoah!". In response to his efforts came an awful screeching sound from the other side of the bar. Morokai turned and dashed to look, and his widening eyes were among the first to see the floor boards cracking and shattering from beneath. Chunks of thick wood blasted into the air, and a horrid stench suddenly filled the tavern. Men gasped and pressed their sleeves to their faces, and several dashed out the front door making retching noises.

As the smell grew stronger yet, dirt was forced up through the hole, and flailing from out of the soil came a greenish arm. Bone was visible through the rotting flesh, and Morokai could see worms and beetles crawling around and through the moldy skin. Morokai felt his own chicken sandwich, eaten several hours earlier, begin to crawl around the pit of his stomach.

Soon after the first arm, another hand appeared, and then the face, the worst sight yet. It was as rotted as the arms, with most of the skin missing, and what remained hanging in tatters. The teeth were grown to fangs, and they clicked and snarled as the reanimated corpse pulled the rest of its body free from the earth it had been buried in. Standing upon the wooden floor, straddling the hole it had clawed its way out of, the zombie fixed its one eye on the Paladin, and howled at him, the hatred in its near-human voice clear to all. Morokai was stunned, like the rest of the men in the tavern. They had all seen zombies before, or at least heard about them from the Paladin and other warriors, but few had ever seen one claw its unwholesome way out of the earth, and certainly not in such dramatic fashion.

For perhaps the first time ever, Morokai gave the Paladin some credit. Faced with this abomination, the man neither shrunk in terror, nor continued with his empty boasting. He instead went into action, drawing his long sword from his belt scabbard with great speed, and bringing it down in a whistling arc at the zombie that had advanced to within a few feet of him.

The undead beast never flinched, even as the long sword severed its right arm just below the shoulder, and penetrated its side as well, only stopping when lodged deep into the rib cage. Morokai stared in amazement as the severed arm flopped around on the floor until the hand caught hold of the leg of a bar stool and clung to it tightly. There was no blood at all, just a few drops of some sickly black ichor.

The zombie reached out its other arm at the Paladin, and the exposed bone of its fingers scraped on his plate armor until he kicked the beast violently backwards, moving very nimbly for such a large man, especially one in full plate mail. The zombie bounced off of the bar, knocked into a recently-vacated chair, (the man who had been sitting there had moved across the room at great speed when the zombie first appeared) and caught its balance, then came back at the armored figure. By now the Paladin had his war hammer ready, and good as his word to the dark figure, he knew how to use it to smite ‘soulless devils’.

The Paladin, now in full battle mode, moved with astonishing speed and skill. His first swing caught the zombie on the top of its working shoulder, and crushed the old bone, the impact dropping the monster to its knees. Another smash to the neck dropped the creature flat face to the floor, and the finishing blow was to the upper back, delivered by the Paladin straight down and with both hands, like a man using a sledgehammer trying to ring the bell and win the strongman game at a Spring Faire. His war hammer smashed the spine and chest, and dented the floorboards beneath the zombie, leaving a hole in the monster's back deep enough to hide a beer mug in.

And yet the zombie lived, or at least continued moving. It struggled to rise, but was failing as it had only one shattered arm remaining, and its upper body had been destroyed. The Paladin bent over to pick up his long sword, which had been wedged into the zombie’s ribs by the first strike, and only been jarred free by the final blow of the hammer. Holding the blade menacingly over the broken corpse, the Paladin growled at the dark figure, "Must I slice this horror to tiny bits to prove your lesson answered?"

The man in the black hood, who had seated himself on a bar stool during the confrontation and sat there still, answered quickly. "Chop it to bits, would you? Well, even that would not end its existence, so therefore would prove nothing. But, as you have clearly defeated it, I shall allow it to return to the earth."

There was a crafty tone of curiosity to the dark one’s voice, and he fluidly got to his feet and made a short series of gestures, intoning a few foreign words in with them. There was a great cracking sound, the zombie suddenly ceased moving, and then an instant later, fell all to pieces. The skin dried up and cracked, and even the rags of clothing that had covered it turned almost to dust. The horrid smell vanished as well, and was replaced with just a dry smell of death, not much worse than rotting leaves.

No one moved for a moment, and the silence drew out as men's eyes shifted between the crumbled remains of the zombie, the hooded man in black, and the gloating Paladin. Morokai finally realized what needed to be done, and broke the frozen moment when he hurried around the bar and grabbed a broom from a corner. There was a deep, dark hole where the creature had clawed its way out of the earth, and into the pit Morokai kicked the torso, the severed arm, its grip now relaxed, and all the other larger pieces of the zombie, which were mostly bone and dust, weighing hardly anything at all. He followed those with dry scraps of cloth and flesh and burial soil, all of which he swept into the opening in the floor.

As he hurriedly replaced the broom and got back behind the bar, Morokai realized that the whole tavern had been watching him clean up the mess. "So Morokai, do you have any other bodies buried under here?" Some wit muttered from the back of the crowd, and there was general uneasy laughter.

Before he could even begin to sputter out an answer, for Morokai had absolutely no idea how a human corpse could have been buried under the Yellow Boar, the dark figure answered the question.

"Oh, I doubt very much that the good barkeep here knew anything about that body. It was difficult to bring up and rather weak, since it was dead at least thirty years. Probably buried here long before this fine establishment ever existed."

"Who was he?" another man asked.

"Well, I really have no idea," the dark figure answered "as our fair Paladin here was moved to smite the creature before we had the chance for any conversation."

There was some uneasy laughter at this, and it seemed to awaken the Paladin from the stupor he’d been in since the brief battle. He’d been sitting at a table, idly wiping clean his long sword and war hammer with a piece of cloth, and polishing his armor where the zombie had managed to touch him, for so brief a moment.

He now surged back to his feet, and raised his war hammer over his head. "I have triumphed over the soulless devil, and answered your challenge of a lesson, dark one."

"Hmmph. Hardly, fair Paladin. That was but the first portion of the lesson. Merely a chance for you to prove that you could indeed vanquish such a "Soulless Demon" as I believe you called it?"

"Soulless Devil, Soulless Demon. They are one in the same. I shall crush them all with my steel."

"Indeed. All the same, are they? Well, we’ll see about that soon enough."

At this the dark one began another series of incantations. As his arms moved, Morokai caught a glint of dull metal from around his neck and sleeves. It looked as if the dark one had on some sort of dirty chain mail beneath his great cloak, and as Morokai studied the figure more closely, he noticed that the hood of the cloak was a bit higher than the man’s skull should have held it. Some sort of helm beneath the black fabric, perhaps?

As the dark one neared the height of his new spell, a great, broken squealing sound began to echo through the tavern. Morokai noticed that the stones set into the man's black staff were again glowing dully, and then his attention was called elsewhere by the sudden appearance of a puddle of blackness on the floor near the doorway.

The puddle moved and grew rapidly in size, but rather than getting wider, it was growing taller as well. Already wider than a bar stool, it got to about serving platter diameter, and then shot rapidly upwards. At first just formless black vapor, it soon congealed into a ghostly shape. A human face, distorted with the jaw hanging down in a perpetual scream, and great basket-sized hands with fierce talons were its most distinctive features. The rest of it was smoke and shadow. It hovered near the doorway, seeming to scan the tavern. But when it sighted the Paladin, the reaction was immediate.

It howled, screaming to wake the dead, and that seemed to work, as shouts of horror from the corners of the main room ripped everyone’s attention away from the spirit near the entrance. There were several more of the shades converging on the entrance, joining the first one there. Three came from along the bar, two more from a back room, smashing open the door to gain exit. Another floated out of an upper room, flying right over the banister and descending gently across the empty air of the large room to join its fellows. One last one flew right past Morokai’s ear, the icy cold and greasy texture giving him a start and making him wipe madly at his ear and temple with a bar rag.

As he got a look at the face on it, Morokai felt cold again, for it looked sickly familiar. Like a man he'd known briefly when he was first hired on at the Yellow Boar, over ten years ago. A former cook and bartender, the man had died in a kitchen fire. Since then there'd been no main kitchen, as the burned out shell of a room had been replaced with an office and storeroom, and the only cooking now done was on the small grill where they made sandwiches and some breakfast foods.

"What demonic sorcery is this, foul Necromancer?" The Paladin demanded. Morokai gasped, feeling stupid. How could he have witnessed the events of the last quarter hour without realizing that the figure in black was indeed one of the fabled Necromancers of lore? It was said that they were the true bane of all Paladins, and that only a Paladin possessed of surpassing faith could hope to defeat one in battle.

"Just the next portion of your lesson, Paladin. These are revenants, non-corporeal manifestations of humans who died right on this very spot. Certainly easier for such a powerful Paladin as yourself to dispel than that zombie was. Why I’ve seen apprentice Paladins of no more than ten or twelve summers who were completely fluent in the lower levels of dispelling evil incantations. Or perhaps a simple holy aura such as Sanctuary would protect you from them?"

While the Necromancer spoke, the revenants hung motionless in the air, their claws clenching and gnashing at nothing, their empty eye sockets fixed on the Paladin, who said nothing, merely held his shield and war hammer at the ready, eyeing the floating horde with wide eyes.

"Well, whatever spell you choose to defeat them, you’d better pick it soon." said the Necromancer, as he made a swirling motion with his glowing staff, then spun to the side, far more nimble on his feet than one would have suspected.

At this motion the revenants were unleashed, and they flew right at the Paladin, their howls of blood lust worse than the stench the zombie had exuded.

The Paladin was clearly unnerved, but he was still able to swing his hammer with deadly speed and accuracy, the heavy steel head passing right through the face of the leading revenant. The spirit faltered a moment, as the smoke and illusion that made up its face was disturbed. But by the time the Paladin’s hammer had smashed into the table in front of him, the revenant had reformed itself, and with the next two of its kind, it descended upon the Paladin, claws outstretched.

The man gave a howl of rage, and waved his shield at the attacking shades. There was a clatter like steel meeting steel where the shield hit their claws, but as for the rest of them they just swirled like smoke, and reformed seconds later.

The Paladin again screamed, but this time it was more in horror than battle rage, and dove beneath a table, flipping the massive piece of solid oak furniture over like a saucer. It actually worked, trapping and bearing to the ground three of the revenants. Unfortunately for the Paladin, there were several more closing in on him.

As the first one reached him, it dove in low, beneath his shield and flailing war hammer, and raked its claws along his legs. The high shriek of its claws on steel was painful to the ears, and the Paladin jerked away just in time to take a slash from the next one across the back. This strike Morokai could see connect, and the non-corporeal revenant, as the Necromancer had called it, had very corporeal claws, for they were slicing right through the Paladin's white cape and grinding up the back of his steel breastplate. Morokai could actually see tiny curls of metal forming where the claws were biting into the Paladin's armor like an apple peel.

The Paladin soon jerked away, and ducked under the next two revenants that were both slashing at his face. The first one on his leg must have reached the back, where the plate mail was replaced with normal heavy woven cloth, for he leaped with a howl of pain, clutching at his backside with his right hand, the war hammer hanging from its pommel strap around his wrist.

Morokai saw blood already darkening the Paladin's heavy trousers, so it had clearly been a pretty deep slash.

The Paladin drew his massive bastard sword from his back scabbard and sent onlookers diving for cover as he swung it wildly overhead, slicing through two of the revenants, though this had no more effect than his war hammer had.  The Paladin backed up a step, nearly moving out the front door of the tavern, and then as five of the revenants closed on him, and the two still trapped under the oak table threw it free with a crash, he turned and leapt out the door into the street.

The revenants all followed him to the front door, but pursued no further, though they slashed in despair at the wooden door frame and the swinging saloon style doors, tearing into the aged wood with their razor claws.

Everyone inside the Yellow Boar desperately wanted to get outside to see what would happen next, but with the violently angry revenants floating there, no exit seemed possible, unless you were as armored as the Paladin had been. Morokai mentally traced his route out the back, in case the revenants finally realized that they had been denied their main target, and decided to settle for leftovers. No one in the tavern now was wearing much armor at all, and it would be a slaughterhouse in seconds if the revenants turned on them.

Morokai looked around the tavern, hoping to catch sight of the Necromancer and beg him to dispel the revenants before they turned on the crowd, but the Necromancer was nowhere to be seen! From out in the street there came a fiercesome clash of metal, sword on shield, from the sound. There were a few more shouted words, and as quickly as they had materialized, the revenants vanished, dripping like water to the floorboards, and evaporating from there as quickly as water on a tin roof in the summer. Even their metal-rending claws were vanished after a few seconds.  From outside there were more sounds of battle, as well as an inhuman screaming.  With the revenants gone and the doorway clear, the tavern patrons made a general stampede out the door to see what the Paladin was into now.

On to Part Three -->

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