Quartz sits facing a corpse, wearing strand after stand gems around his neck, rings on his rotting fingers, for what’s left of him does appear to be a he.
Quartz: So you were once Caerac, a mighty warrior who founded Caerac Keep. Surprised no one has stolen your gems off your corpse.
Caerac: Let me tell you a thing or two, little fellow. In my day, stability and wealth weren’t taken for granted. Once Serena Jasior, the Imperatrix died, the alliance she’d formed, the empire she’d conquered cracked. Kalanthia, her great rival once subdued, split off and splintered between its more misogynist and misandryist extremists. They formed the countries of Graeca and Aethyria. Rowenda, once my home and the heart of the Jasior Empire was overrun with marauding monsters from the icy north. Every person who wanted to survive learned to use a sword, a bow, or magic. Those who thrived took the fight to the monsters, like myself and my companions. The Age of Adventurers began, where the normal family unit was a group of wanderers willing to carve out their own fortune. Don’t be too obvious about it, though, because it paid to have a cleric in your party and you have to humour their moralizing nonsense.
Quartz: Right. About clerics, they usually belong to one of the two religious orders in your world, right? Two orders that hate each other.
Caerac: Right. There’s the old guard, the Order of the Dragon that worked with the Imperatrix. They were guardians of harmony in all things in theory. In practice, they often collared and enslaved the Serpent Born, when they weren’t enslaving non-humans and the undead.
Quartz: These Serpent Born you speak of, what exactly are they? Descendants of Nevalyn, the Serpent in your land who possess magic? Or anyone golden-haired.
Caerac: Yes. The Dragons themselves got confused on what the Serpent Born were. Especially when the Imperatrix’s own brother and heir appeared to Serpent Born. It was a blatant contradiction, grabbing golden-haired children and chaining them up for the good of the empire while a golden-haired man walked free, challenging all suitors to magical combat in the arena, killing everyone he defeated. One might say the Order of the Unicorn rose in reaction to this sort of thing.
Quartz: Right and how is the Order of the Unicorn different than the Order of the Dragon?
Caerac: The Unicorns’ goal is to stomp out the evil, the impure, the corruption at the heart of things. Or so they say. Personally I don’t see much difference between a Unicorn cleric and a Dragon cleric. Take Corwyth. He was obviously Serpent Born, a dedicated Dragon cleric, and equally dedicated to defeating the darkness preying upon all living things. Claimed the undead were magical manifestations of this darkness and those caught within this manifestation were victims? What does he go and do to stop this darkness? Becomes a vampire himself!
Quartz: You think he chose to become a vampire?
Caerac: Well, no. Not exactly. To be honest, I’m not sure what happened. I never quite understood Corwyth. He was a beautiful boy, a sheer delight to look up, but he was odd. Always reading and going on about matters too deep for me. Me, I’m a simple man, or I was a simple man. I liked stability. I liked walls and a roof over my head. I liked good food and things that sparkled.
Quartz: Aye, I like those things, too. Only you said you liked them in the past tense. Don’t you still?
Caerac: I’m dead. What point is there in liking anything? You ought to know that.
Quartz: I’m not dead!
Caerac: Oh, so you’re one of those, eh? Take my advice. Get over yourself. There’s no point in clinging to what’s rotten.
Quartz: Like you ought to talk!
Caeac: (gesturing to his own rotting body) This was not my idea! All I wanted was as good a life as I could make for myself with monsters running amuck in my homeland, forcing anyone who might be persuaded to build a castle, a tavern, or a wall to hide. Some adventurers took to guarding others so they could build while others took the fight to the monsters. We used our weapons to create a little stability, my companions and I.
Quartz: What companions were these?
Caerac: Well, Corwyth was one. Gwyneth was another. Plus, there was Aglae, our grumpy Aggie and sweet Willie. I couldn’t have fought all those monsters by myself, so I traveled with a party. All of us were capable of something. I fought with a sword and taught Aggie to do so. It was the Age of Adventuring, as I said, only my companions and I, we were particularly good at it. Gwyneth, Corwyth, and I all ended up ruling a Keep named after us.
Quartz: Only Corwyth Keep is a walled city filled with the dead or the undead, right?
Caerac: No one is sure what lies beyond the walls of Corwyth Keep. Its gates are sealed to those who don’t possess the blood, whatever that means.
Quartz: Sounds like the sort of restriction a vampire would like.
Caerac: Restriction, pah! As if younglings today had any respect for restrictions! I wouldn’t be a walking corpse if they did. I’m telling you, little fellow, you shouldn’t go around raising the dead. Dead men tell too many tales. The dead should be allowed to rest.
Quartz: Is that what you want? To just crawl back in your coffin and forget everything and everyone you ever loved?
Caerac: One, I’m lying in a sarcophagus in a chapel, which should have blessed by Unicorn rites, too. Two, why should I care about any of these things? I’m dead.
Quartz: I guess you truly are, you moldy old cramp.
Caerac: Who are you calling cramp? At least I have the good manners not to kick the coffin while I’m in it!
Quartz: I thought you were lying in a sarcophagus, not a coffin, you pretentious zombie.
Caerac: I am, you mouthy stub.
Quartz: What did you call me?
Caerac: You heard me.
Quartz: Why, you…better to be short and intact than tall and flesh-rotted!
Caerac: I’m dead, my flesh is supposed to rot. I’m not a freak like you.
Quartz: Oh, and how is being the walking dead not freakish?
Caerac: You tell me.
Quartz: I’m not dead!
Caerac: Aye, keep telling youself that, you delusional dwarf.
Quartz: Moldy crab.
Caerac: Stubby rabble-rouser!
Quartz: Smelly stuffed shirt!
Caerac: Delusional diva!
(They continue to quarrel, voices raised as the curtain falls down around them.)
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