Grimbrand was once a powerful Raevir warrior, vaunted for his bravery and indomitable will. He traveled far and wide, doing the usual boring adventurer things like rescuing maidens, slaying evil creatures, eating cakes, and the like. He was a popular fellow, and his parents and village were justifiably proud of him.
One day, as he was out seeking something new to relieve his boredom, he came across something he’d never seen or even heard of.
A great rend lay across the land, with sheer vertical cliffs leading down as far as he could see. Across the chasm, he spied magma bubbling out of tunnels. It was as though some unknown deity had reached down, taking a piece of the world as neatly as the middle brownie from a pan just out of the oven. As he marveled at this bizarre phenomenon, he realized that there was a strange chamber, deep within the earth, uncovered for all to see. And within that small marbled hall, entombed, there was a sullen blue glow emanating from an oblong pedestal of some kind.
Intrigued, Grimbrand spent the better part of two days, climbing down the crumbling vertical face, avoiding bats and Creepers, until at last he was able to scramble into the relative safety of the ancient crypt he’d spied. For in fact, that is what the room appeared to be: a beautifully sculpted marble mausoleum, somehow forgotten in the depths. In the center of the room was a stone sarcophagus, strangely unadorned with the exception of a glowing blue gem, inset into the lid.
While unafraid of any undead he’d ever run across, Grimbrand was typically respectful of graves and the like, so naturally he would never open or desecrate a tomb. But after all the effort he’d made to climb down to this forgotten sepulcher, he had a lapse of ethics, and curiosity made him decide that one little peek into the sarcophagus wouldn’t be so bad.
As he strained to move the stone lid aside, he lost his grip, and his hand brushed across the inset gem.
Suddenly, all the color drained from his vision, and the cold stone floor rushed to meet his face. Try as he might, he could not move.
Strange words, with forms he did not recognize, rang within his mind. Somehow, he could understand them.
“Fool. You disturb the tomb of Felonious Threnody! I was cursed to lie here in undeath for all eternity, awake but sealed in this tomb by the king, for stealing his beautiful daughter’s virtue! But thanks to you, the curse is lifted! I go to my rest, at last. But you?”
Dry, unpleasant laughter rang in his mind, as the words slowly faded away to nothing.
For a time, Grimbrand could not move – he knew not how long he lay there on the cold stone floor. But after what seemed many hours, he awoke. He had no sense of smell, nor taste, and he felt strangely weak and sluggish. To his surprise, the glowing gem, still as brilliant and blue as ever, lay within the palm of his hand.
In the days to come, he discovered that he could not physically part with the gem, as though some terrible geas had been placed upon him. If he set it down, he would become dizzy and faint, until he was in contact with it once more. Worse, his flesh rotted and fell away from his bones slowly, as he languished in the old ruins, until he was nothing but a skeleton. Thirst and hunger drove him to find a way out, despite his apparent undead state.
In time, he made his way back to town, but of course, no one there was glad to see him. Aside from the peasants screaming and running in terror from him, it also became clear that he smelled bad, and soon the town guards drove him away. He was lucky to escape with his life – if that even described what he had.
But, never one to wallow in self-pity, and discovering that he was tireless, if weak, Grimbrand set out to build a comfortable place to live in the countryside. And to this day, he can be found there, working underground, carving out new passages or building lavish structures in which to live, alone.
