It took me more than a few moments to catch my breath once I had left the graveyard. I had run back the way I had come, exited the graveyard and now leaned up against the familiar stone of Saint Ioven’s catching my breath. The metal door of the graveyard had slammed shut behind me with a clang and I had sighed with relief to be free of the place.

  Now, I felt as if I had been put through my paces by Sergeant-at-Arms Tofford. That bulldog of a man was always merciless in his training methods and he treated me no differently from any of the other young boys and girls whom he trained daily for service in the Ordheim Duke’s Guard. He had also not spared my feelings when he told me it was a good thing I had other prospects besides learning the blade.

  “Alarm! ALARM!” I forced myself to move after just a few moments of respite. I tore up the Chapel steps and threw open the door. Within, a few monks looked up at me with surpised expressions and some raised fingers to their lips or flashed me taciturn glowers at my shouting, but I ignored them. I then spotted Brother Cammon, the Sacrist, attending to folding the altar linen and I quickly ran to him.

  “Master Kenric, what ails thee? My, but thou are covered in filth! Diss’t thou take a tumble in the street?” The old Sacrist asked, the few wizened hairs that still remained atop his head standing at strict attention.

  “Brother Cammon, it is the graveyard! Something stirs within! Something fell!” Brother Cammon frowned. He may have been approaching eighty years of age, but he was still in full control of his faculties and unlike many men his age did not immediately dismiss the concerns of youth as frivolities. He had also once been in the Ordheim Guard and served under my grandfather. He took me seriously, Ord bless him.

  “Brother Hastings, run and fetch Father Wolric. Brothers Guy and Lancel, you will make all haste to the Eastern Tower and fetch Knight-Captain Esme. Go!” The young monks scrambled to follow the old monk’s orders. Obedience is one of the very first things taught to young members of the various orders, or so I hear. They neither complained nor rose any objection. I followed Brother Cammon as he strode to the Chapel doors I had just entered and I gasped at what I saw when I exited behind him. The entire street was covered in an unnatural darkness, deeper than the night, which even moonlight could not pierce. I could just barely see Brothers Guy and Lancel disappearing within it as they ran as fast as they could to fetch help.

  “Kenric, of all the ailments the weight of years presses down upon me, it is the gradual loss of sight that afflicts me the most. What dost thou see from yonder graveyard.”

  Trembling, I looked towards where I knew the graveyard to be, but could now see little of it for the darkness. Occassionally, I saw the flicker of witchlights, but even they seemed diminished and were only just barely noticeable. The air carried with it the scent of rot and with each passing moment it grew worse and I covered my nose with the hem of my cloak.

  “Brother Cammon, the darkness has grown so thick I can see little save strange lights as if there were mischevious children playing with the colored flames one sees during Summer festivals.”

  “Ah, thou hast a knack for description lad. We will make a Scholar of thee yet. Harken, do any of the lights have a red, blue or greenish hue? It will be bigger than the others.”

  “No Brother, I…wait!” There, further back into the graveyard, farther even than the tomb I had entered and slightly elevated, was a green colored light larger than the others. By my memory, I figured it to be upon Celemor’s Mound.

  “Upon Celemor’s Mound I see a green light, larger than the others, Brother. What is it?” Brother Cammon sighed and rubbed an age spotted hand across his forehead. He looked very old then, but his voice lost none of its firmness.

  “It is a Dungeon Portal, but a manageable one at least. Still, how strange that it should appear and immediately begin to decay as it is. Could there be some eldritch power in the graveyard affecting it?” The old monk was muttering to himself, but I picked up on some of it.

  “Decay?”

  I didn’t understand what Brother Cammon was saying, but I knew what a Dungeon Portal was at least. I had only just discovered a hidden one, after all! Unlike permanent dungeons, dungeon portals are temporary gateways to other places, some say other worlds entirely, where beasts, monsters and sometimes even other men await those willing to enter and face them in combat. Once defeated, they disappeared forever. The rewards were varied and sometimes predictable, even if the appearance of dungeon portals was often random.The economics of dungeons were part of my studies to get the Merchant class and I knew that the portals could be beaten by experienced and well equipped adventurers…or incredibly lucky novice priests.

  “A normal dungeon portal, you will have already noted its green coloration, decays if the creatures within are not defeated within a certain amount of time. Once the decay begins, the energies of the dungeon core that spawned the dungeon will start to invade the area outside the portal. To ill consequence.”

  “Take heart, Brother Cammon. We need only send word to the Adventurer’s Guild near the Market Center and they will send a group to clear it. Will that not stop what is happening?” I kept my voice lighthearted. I liked Brother Cammon and didn’t want to upset him with my own misgivings. The old Sacrist grunted.

  “Perhaps so, young Kenric. We are fortunate in that the portal is green for that symbolizes a dungeon of a manageable level or rather a lower threat. It may be that Knight-Captain Esme herself could clear the dungeon with a few men. Ah, but never has a dungeon portal appeared here before! Great Ord, it as an ill omen.”

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  I bit my lip as Brother Cammon went back inside to calm the younger monks who were beginning to gather near the door and casting nervous glances towards the graveyard. Several undead skeletons had risen, but so far none had attempted to breach the gate. I could just make out a few of them wandering about without any discernible purpose. Curious, I focused upon one particular skeleton standing still near the gate.

  Skeleton Warrior

  Level 3

  DMG: 2-5 blunt

  Speed: Slow

  Description: An Undead warrior reanimated by unsealed Eldritch Mana.

  I couldn’t stop my hands from trembling as I read over the screen’s text. I had opened the sarcophagus and shortly after the dungeon appeared. It was too much of a coincidence. This was likely my fault.

  O Holy Ord, forgive me for the sin of indulging curiosity without more care! Please let none be hurt by what I have done! Is this why you do not acknowledge me? Have I been an overly curious fool this whole time?

  It wasn’t long before Knight-Captain Esme and a full squad of Ordheim Guard arrived. I knew of the Knight-Captain, as I had seen her at our Citadel in the past to meet with my father and the other Ordheim Knight-Captains stationed at different parts around the large city. She was a tall woman of a fierce countenance. Her eyes glittered from her open helm as she beheld the graveyard with the aid of several torches and while I could not hear the orders she gave, I saw the Guard leap to carry them out.

  Several of the Guard set up a perimeter around the graveyard to keep the people out and ensure the undead remained within. I noticed Captain Esme approaching the steps to the Chapel and Father Wolric, the head priest, descended the steps to meet her. I might have stayed back with the other monks and Brother Cammon, but I was merely a student of the Chapel and wasn’t beholden to follow anyone’s orders, really. So I descended the steps behind Father Wolric, but maintained just enough distance that I could hear their discussion without intruding upon it.

  “Can you spare anyone with Healing skills? I will enter with three of my men, but it would be well to have Ord’s protection to ensure our success.” Knight-Captain Esme was saying. Father Wolric nodded solemnly.

  “I will personally accompany you. Let us handle this matter as quickly as possible before alarm spreads to the general population. I trust you have sent word up to the Citadel?”

  Knight-Captain Esme nodded and I noticed her eyes flicker to me for a moment. Did she recognize me? Father Wolric turned to regard me with a small smile as if he had already known I was there listening.

  “Kenric, would you be so good as to inform Brother Cammon that he should assemble the Chanters upon the steps of the Chapel? They will know what is expected of them until myself and the Knight-Captain return.”

  “Of course, Father Wolric.” I hastened to do as he had asked. I couldn’t contain my curiosity. Information existed in books on what skills Class holders received as they leveled up their abilities. I had read several. Classes bestowed by the Gods followed a different pattern. While Fighters, Scouts and even Mages gained access to skills, spells and abilities that could be trained and obtained by any, those who would serve the Gods had to achieve certain thresholds with their Gods in order to receive their powers and they were ofttimes specific, as I was now learning.

  The Chanter Class, for example, could only be granted to one who pledged themselves to Ord. From there, one needed a pure countenance, hence a high Charisma threshold. Also, a Chanter’s true strength came through synchronizing their abilities with other Chanters, so an adequate score in Perception was necessary. It was all very specific and detailed.

  Brother Cammon assembled the Chanters, six in all, on the front steps of the Chapel. Father Wolric, Knight-Captain Esme and three other Guardsmen stood before the very entrance to the graveyard I had so recently exited. I gasped as Father Wolric cast open the gate with a mere gesture and strode forward confidently.

  “Mighty Ord! We beseech thy blessing! Begin!” Brother Cammon ordered the Chanters who calmly folded their hands within the sleeves of their brown robes and lifted their voices in a single, powerful sound.

  You are under the effects of [Ord’s Mantle of Glory]!

  Fear effects reduced by 75%!

  Inspiration effects increased by 75%!

  You have received a temporary +5 to your Wisdom!

  My breath caught in my throat and I staggered. Everything I had read about the Chanter class had listed it as a common ranked class of the Ord priesthood. Not a rare class by any means, but listening to six Chanters raise their voices together in a song glorifying Ord’s strength and seeing the effect it had upon the Undead had a profound effect upon me.

  It was as if I were surrounded by the smell of scented beeswax candles, hear the crinkling of old vellum and the soft whispers of Brothers praying in their alcoves. The sound echoed as if it were not the sky above us, but rather the arches of a cathedral amplifying the chant a hundred fold.

  The skeletons within the graveyard screeched an unholy sound and shuffled away as they tried to escape the effects of Ord’s Mantle. Father Wolric led the Knights forward and no skeleton could stand before them. Everywhere the priest pointed, a skeleton was reduced to dust. The hammers and maces of the Knights left no enemies behind them. Then the darkness seemed to part like a curtain and atop Celemor’s Mound the portal to the dungeon was revealed shimmering with green light. Priest and Knights entered, but the chant continued.

  “This is why I am here. I was reborn into this world to be a part of this.” A smile touched my lips and I stood beside Brother Cammon and the Chanters for the duration of their spell. Though not a priest of Ord, I was one of them, a Prophet of the Gods. I felt a sense of excitement infuse every fiber of my being for what I might be able to accomplish with the rare class I had been granted.

  The spell faded at the exact moment Father Wolric and the Knights exited the Portal a short time later. The darkness retreated behind them, sucked into the portal like water through a drain. When the last of the unnatural darkness disappeared the portal winked out of existence as if it had never been.

  The monks cheered and I joined them. Neither Father Wolric nor the Knights seemed to have come to any harm from their short time in the Dungeon. My respect for the Ordheim Knights and Father Wolric in particular soared.

  “Well done Brother Cammon and the rest of you as well. I believe a little ale with tomorrow’s supper would not be out of order.” Father Wolric winked at one of the Chanters, a lad who looked barely older than myself. “Even Ord occasionally set aside his weapons and rested after his battles to take respite with his boon companions long ago.”

  “Yes, Father Wolric,” each of the monks echoed as Brother Cammon started shooing them back inside the Chapel to Matins prayers, then bed. I watched them go, chewing the inside of my cheek.

  “Kenric,” I turned as Father Wolric addressed me. “I believe in light of the evening’s events I shall pen a letter to your Father explaining your lateness in returning home. Come.” Dutifully, I followed after he said his goodbyes to Knight-Captain Esme who also seemed to be slightly in awe of the Priest. What had happened within the dungeon? My curiosity was getting the better of me again. I looked at Father Wolric and wondered what his class was? Unfortunately, such information was hidden unless willingly shared or unless one joined together in a party with other Class holding adventurers.

  We entered the Chapel, but I was dragging my feet and Father Wolric turned to regard me with a raised eyebrow.

  “Father, there is something I need to ask you and perhaps you might include something else in the letter to my Father.”