For a long moment, the Witch Hunter said nothing. Then her lips curled into something that was almost a smile. “His attention is fixed on the shrine of the Raven God in the lower crypts. He believes a great ritual will be complete by the next new moon. His warriors guard the upper halls, but the tunnels beneath—” She traced a line in the air. “There is a way. A flooded sewer passage that leads to his sanctum. No one uses it. The smell alone is a garrison.”
He should have died. Instead, he clawed free three days later, half-blind, raving, his axe notched beyond repair. The dwarfs of Karak Kadrin had given him a new axe and a new name: Drengbarazi —the living dead.
Tomorrow, he would break the count. Or it would break him.
For a long moment, the Witch Hunter said nothing. Then her lips curled into something that was almost a smile. “His attention is fixed on the shrine of the Raven God in the lower crypts. He believes a great ritual will be complete by the next new moon. His warriors guard the upper halls, but the tunnels beneath—” She traced a line in the air. “There is a way. A flooded sewer passage that leads to his sanctum. No one uses it. The smell alone is a garrison.”
He should have died. Instead, he clawed free three days later, half-blind, raving, his axe notched beyond repair. The dwarfs of Karak Kadrin had given him a new axe and a new name: Drengbarazi —the living dead. return of reckoning
Tomorrow, he would break the count. Or it would break him. For a long moment, the Witch Hunter said nothing