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I tried to get up.

A tremendous pain shot up through my leg. It was broken just below the knee. I lit a torch and surveyed the damage. Accustomed to horrific sights, though I was, I almost fainted from the view fo the wound the flickering torch light revealed. The bone of my lower leg was sticking out of my calf. I could put no weight at all on the leg without mind blanking pain.

I went back down and Cor Angar's words came to me. About how a warrior can use his mind to fight through any pain. I broke the torch heads off two torches, reset, and then and splinted the leg.

I thought of the transformation spells I carried, but the mere thought caused me even more pain. For some reason I knew transformation would not work. I might be able to change but could I change back? The leg splinted, I began crawling towards my destination, the middle of the swamp.

I could see the familiar lights of the sect camp nearby, they were enticing but unreachable. I knew there was no aid for me there, until I escaped from this damnable plane.

Through the night I continued to inch my way towards the shrine of the Swamp Witch. Towards midnight I reached it and pulled my crossbow. Many torches lit the scene above me. It seems I was expected but the witch was not in sight. I called out.

Above me I could see skeletons dancing around the shrine. Was I dreaming or was this real? I could not tell. Out of dim hazy consciouness I saw a shrouded figure appoaching me. I turned my wavering crossbow in it's direction.

"Fear me not, man of destiny, I come to your aid," spoke a soft voice. "Lower your weapon."

"You speak of aid," I croaked. "Then aid me."

"Very well," came the reply. A potion bottle slid across the mirrorlike surface to me. I cradled my weapon and greedily ingested the blue liquid. I immediately cast a healing spell and felt some of the strength returning to my broken body. I gingerly got to my feet and thanked the witch. "Now return me to the surface world."

"Of course," hissed the witch, "but first the pendant." She pointed a black nailed finger at my chest.

"The Surface," I demanded.

"Without the pendant I am powerless to aid you," she retorted. I pulled the pendant off and slid it to her.

"Stand directly beneath the shrine," she instructed, examining the artifact. I did so, noticing the dream warriors had gone, and wondered if they were ever really there.

She spoke a word and a bright light erupted from the pendant and hit me. "Now cast rain of fire and climb the shaft to the surface," intoned the witch.

Once again Milten's words came to me. I cast the spell and clutched the resultant fiery shaft. I felt no pain but was locked helpless in the embrace of the fiery column. I felt myself being pulled upwards. My head broke the surface and in moments I was standing atop the shrine as the column of fire dissipated around me.

I raced towards the swamp camp as quickly as I was able with my still damaged leg. It was not long before I ran into Balor and the weed pickers. They helped me to Baal Cadar. Baal Netbek even showed up to see what all the excitement was about. Cor Angar congratulated me on my return from the dead.

I spent the night in the camp retelling my adventures from the past days, and getting a good dose of northern dark into the bargain. The Baals attended to my damaged leg, and were still fussing over me as I fell into a deep healing sleep.

*

The next morning I departed with many well wishes and cries of 'Awaken' ringing in my ears. I strode with confidence towards the temple of the Sleeper, remembering to don the Ulu-Mulu when I came within sight of the orc holds.

The rest of the story is rather tame when measured against what I had just been through. With Uriziel, for that is its correct name, I easily dispatched the remaining undead orc shaman.

With little difficulty I defeated the apocalyptic templars that guarded the final approach to the Sleeper's nest. It was a giant amphitheater with the Sleeper at it's center surrounded by his insane, misguided, followers. With little risk to myself I used a number of scrolls of summoning stone golems I had received from the Baals.

The golems at my side I strode into the fanatics and easily dispatched them and their fallen guru Cor Kalom.

The Sleeper never awakened.

I pierced the final orc heart and used the power of the mystical Uriziel to seal the breach. The Sleeper was banished back to the abyss from which it came, never to return.

The End

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