The sun was warm upon his pallid flesh as he marched..
The temple had been abandoned. He was alone.
The black marble hallways that had once been his home were devoid of marching steps of soldiers, the vexing chants of highpriests, and the wailing screams of prisoners and sacrifices.. All that remained was the pale magical light that enchanted the stones.
A wisp of ghostly white slid from the wall and formed into a figure before him, a spirit of the ages past.. A banite priest he did not recognize, but whose robe was torn and the side of his face burned away.
"OUT! YOU FILTHY WHELP, GET OUT OF HERE!"
The floor rumbled as the spirit shrieked and rushed him, but faded into empty air.. A shower of cold air rained on his flesh as a large fist of stone smashed through the walls on either side of him. Diving forward into a roll, the stones rained behind him and scattered over the floor. Reaching a standing position, he turned to see stone guardians clamoring noisily from their resting places. Guardians meant to guard the temple from enemies..
They turned their large granite heads towards him and charged.. He fled. Pillared temple areas filles with rotted tapestries, meeting rooms filled with dust that swirled, and rusted iron bars of jailrooms, he ran as fast as he could and followed the path he knew by heart, even after all these years..
Behind him, the slamming and screeching of stone against stone.
As he turned down the hallway to one of the primary entrance chambers of the temple, he stopped dead in his tracks.. The chamber was full of the undead, but they did not stir at his arrival. They surely saw him, as their dead eye sockets scanned the area lazily. Behind him, the slamming grew louder as the golems caught up, as they rounded the corner.
He leapt into the crowd of undead, seemingly invisible, as the golems crashed into them, flinging them left and right. The clatter of rusted helms, breastplates, swords, and spears all rained over the crowd of baneliches and banedead.. the former Zhentilar soldiers.
