Nordia: A history

The tower was abandoned at some time. That was apparent from the crumbling walls, bold rodents, spider webs in every corner, and a general feeling of disuse that settled upon the old thing. The beasts of the Eastern Plague Lands that once inhabited the tower, however, were driven off by humans in shining silver plate. Their shields bore the symbol of a lion traced in blue. The cleared the tower and planted blue banners around it to claim it. The unforgiving orange sky swirled around the tower as it always had, unnerving the new human occupants. The beasts and horrors that howled in the night intensified their worries. Whispers spread through the camp. "I feel like the sky is watching me." "The ground shakes with every howl and moan." "The food is starting to taste of decay." "Lady Nightlocke is sure to come soon… aye?"

Word spread through the camp of how they were sent there to capture an enemy. Not one in particular, but one of a certain kind. Forsaken, they said. More whispers about the horrors that they were. Rotting flesh, glowing eyes, and inhuman strength. Sometimes, by fate's cruel humor, they resembled your dead brother or sister. But they couldn't be… right? Your own flesh and blood would rather lay dead than be a monster!

Four nights after the humans arrived at the tower a woman arrived in the camp. Her robes were long and appeared to be a light brown with black stripes. Her hair was tucked beneath a black cowl. Her face, under the mud and blood, was smiling and beautiful. A unit of four men followed her. They carried with them a corpse. Two men were on each side of her, holding her by her arms.

Hours later, the beautiful woman was bathed and in a clean robe. Her hair was silver, but her face said that she was in her mid-twenties. A small bump foretold of a child on the way. Blue eyes twinkled with joy and intelligence, and maybe a bit of ignorance. She confidently walked up the stairs of the tower to a door that closed off the upper room. She dismissed the guards with a wave of her hand and entered the room.

Before her, the corpse was sitting in a chair and placed at a table. The corpse was holding her head up well for a dead person. Her hands were shackled to the table, and her legs to the chair. The skin on her jaw was completely rotted and her bottom teeth showed in a perpetual grin. Her hair was purple in the soft lighting of the room, graciously provided by the moon through a gaping hole in the wall behind the corpse. The top was smoothed down and neat, but the back stuck up rebelliously. Her armor was dark leather and a torn red and white tabard covered most of it.

The silver haired woman sat at the table and cleared her throat. The corpse's eyes opened with a snap, revealing black pits where eyes should be. She just sat there for a moment before she began jerking on her restraints. "You vile hussy!" the corpse whispered in Gutterspeak, spitting at the woman before her.

"Now, if you please, I'd like to continue this conversation in Orcish- I am much more comfortable in it." The priestess had a patronizing tone, as if she was speaking to a child. The corpse snarled and jerked in her restraints. The woman sighed and shook her head. She raised her hand and a soft blue glow extended from her to the corpse.

"This is so much more exhausting… but you are unwilling to cooperate with me. Come now, close your eyes and let me in…" The blue glow encompassed the corpse and the woman, connecting them by a shimmering thread of magic. The corpse's lids closed and so did the woman's.

Darkness. Cold. The scent of death. Sounds of a village echoed around her. The small woman gasped and sat up in her hard bed. Her eyes shot open and she looked around frantically. She must have fallen asleep outside, watching the moon or tending her garden… But wait, this was not outside. This was a tomb. Her breath caught in her chest. She had been buried alive! Oh, Light preserve her! She threw her legs off of the slab that she was laid on and promptly screamed when she caught sight of her rotting flesh.

Petrified, she slumped against the slab and took a look at her hands. They were no longer the scarred and nimble fingers of her life, but claws meant for gouging eyes. Her blue skin shined bright with the oils of decay. She still had yet to breathe since she screamed and she felt no pain in her chest or urgency that told her that it was needed. She ran her hands up her arms, finding patches of rot along her elbows and shoulders. Her neck was mainly intact, but her face felt awful. The entire lower half was rotten through. Her jaw bone could be felt clearly and the top half was close behind in decay.

She took a few minutes to just feel her self out. She needed to get home… But where was home? She needed to get to… get to… An icy haze settled over the undead woman and she slumped farther down the wall of the tomb. She attempted to organize her jumbled thoughts of home and self, but it felt like she was trying to hold onto smoke. "Ugh…" she sighed, rubbing her empty eye sockets more for comfort than purpose.

"Oh! Good! Here I am worried that you had arisen mindlessly from the way you were so slow to moving about." A voice had from about ten feet before the woman. Her hand immediately went to her hip, where she found a dull dagger. She drew it before she knew what she was doing and lowered herself into a defensive stance. She scanned the dark room with care. She saw spiders and mice moving slowly, as if ill. Dust and dirt seemed to be covering everything, including the bodies that were laid down there. "Bother, don't get all hissy at me. I'm here to watch over the bodies down here. You'd think it'd be terribly boring, but really, I've had to deal with my share of mindless ones. Quite exciting…" The man continued to talk while the newly risen corpse tuned him out. She scanned the room for where he could be. Out of the corner of her eye she saw two yellow lights flicker. She rushed to that spot in the corner of the room.

She was lifted off the floor and tossed over someone's shoulder before she even registered that she missed her target. "Come now! Let's go outside." The man who held her was much taller than the woman. He kept a happy voice, but his fingers bit into her sides. The woman was vaguely aware of how she was carried up the steps and set on the ground. She blinked her empty eyes, taking in her new environment.

She was surrounded by gravestones. Some were new and simple, while others were eroded away to just a stump of stone. A green, sickly sky cast a green, sickly light over the graveyard. She stared up at it for a few moments before her attention was caught by the snapping of fingers. "Light save me, I think you ARE mindless. Or daft. Either way, you won't last long and no skin off my nose, aye?" The woman watched the taller man crouch down to her. She looked him over, scowling. In life, he would have been handsome, for sure. Even now, his face was relatively intact. His hair was the color and texture of straw, coming down to his chin. His armor was leather and very dark. At his hips he held two daggers of the same make. "Stop scowling at me, it won't do you any good." The woman stopped. "Now, your name?" The woman's blank stare caused the man to sigh. "Alright, how about your home?" Silence. "Do you recall anything?" The woman shook her head. "Oh, bloody wonderful… We'll start from scratch then." He got up from his crouch and motioned for the woman to do the same. "Find a headstone that catches your fancy."

The woman got up and turned around. Directly behind where she was sitting was a newer looking headstone. She traced the writing with her forefinger. "That one? Hm… Nordia. A good name. She was a good fighter. Damn good card player. She was one of our first casualties, I suppose…"

The man continued to talk as the woman thought the prospect of a new name over. "Nordia," she said with a bit of difficulty. The man smiled a crooked, toothy smile.

"Yes, that name will work."


The next few months were a blur as Nordia began to train in combat, stealth, and tactics. She was to be initiated into a skilled group of Forsaken known as the Deathstalkers-
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The silver haired woman's brow glistened with sweat. The blue glow that had previously encompassed the two women had dissipated. The corpse had a snarky smile on the top, unrotted half of her face. "That information is classified." Her voice was taunting. It was clear that she reveled in throwing the human out of her head.

"All the more reason for me to understand it, dear."