Man, this took me a lot longer than I thought, apologies for keeping you all waiting. Also, apologies for not commenting on the other stories, this part took the absolute majority of my time from this weekend. I'll get to it tomorrow. For now, enjoy this very long part. Edmond's PoV won't have a choice, but keep in mind that Yveshin's does and it is quite an important one.
Yveshin
Yveshin had seen them before, the places were humans put their dead to rest. Acres of Boron, they called it, and they were unlike anything he had seen in his people. When an elf died in his tribe, he was put to rest in a crystal tomb, but never below the ground. The hidden valleys of the Brazen Sword were often covered in ice, the ground frozen solid. The whole idea that anyone would break it open to put their dead to rest was still very new to him and admittedly fascinating.
He knew, the Acres of Boron were solemn and quiet places and at least the ones he had been to hadn't been very well-visited. This one was different, despite the fact that Runhag was only a small village by human standards. Roughly a dozen humans were walking all over the place. Some of them were crying, while others seemed furious.
It was only him, Thea and Iiro. Mother Linai and Vittorio had moved into the village itself, where they wanted to seek shelter for the night and converse with the people on what they had heard about Drakesfield. “What is going on here?”, he asked, to which Iiro shrugged. “Let's find out”, the mercenary growled.
As they came closer, long before Iiro noticed it, Yveshin spotted weapons on some of the people. Not blades, but cruder types, axes and hammers, two pitchforks. These very same weapons were pointed at them the very moment the people spotted them. “Halt!”, a woman shouted in their direction. “State your business, or we will drive you from these lands!”
Iiro narrowed his eyes. “Is that how travellers are greeted in these parts?”, he replied sharply. “My name is Iiro, these are my companions Yveshin and Thea. We're passing through and noticed the commotion” It was in this moment that Yveshin noticed something new. There were holes in the ground, freshly dug, as if these people were preparing to bury more of their kind. Or perhaps someone had dug up corpses?
The woman stepped forward. She was middle-aged and stout, her copper hair tied into two thick braids and showing the first signs of grey. With a sigh, she raised her hand and the people around her lowered their weapons. “Apologies”, she mumbled. “We feared you belong to the Man in Black. But you got elves with you. Never saw an elf with him before”
“We're not working for the Man in Black”, Iiro clarified. “Though we heard that name before. He took people, over in Salthel” The woman gave him a nod. “And here as well”, she explained. “Hans and Wilbur, two of our guardsmen, they disappeared three weeks ago. Just last week, the young Mariella, a huntress, left the village and didn't return. She's always been a wild one, but we fear she was taken as well” With a look of anger, she pointed at the holes around her. “And just yesterday, he came back. Close to sunset, he took something else from us”
“He raised the dead”, Thea mumbled and the woman sighed. “People say he is in league with demons”, she confirmed. “That he commands death and decay. But we never thought it would be this bad. Over half a dozen of our people, of our loved ones, torn from their graves, now serving evil incarnate”
“Where did they go?”, Iiro asked and the woman pointed down the road. “East”, she revealed, confirming what Yveshin had been fearing. “At least this time, the village was spared. He and his companion, they rode around it, but we spotted them back on the road a mile to the east”
“They are heading to Drakesfield”, Iiro assumed, to which the woman gulped. “Something evil happened in that village”, she mumbled. “They had always been good neighbours, before that witch came and settled in their midst” Yveshin raised an eyebrow. He had heard of the witches of Meadows before. Humans feared them, but his kind spoke with respect of them and their knowledge. “What witch?”, he asked.
“Her name is Laniare Armand”, the woman explained. “Called herself a priestess of Tsa, but I saw right through her lies. No respectable woman would dabble in the things she dabbled in. She was interested in magic, in the old lizard empires, in rituals which, I am certain, are not permitted by the Church of Praios” Her expression hardened. “Not long after Laniare's arrival, the people in Drakesfield changed”
She placed an odd emphasis on the word and it caught Yveshin's attention. “In what way did they change?”, he asked. Elves of his tribe, or well, all of his kind, they were capable of changing their form, into that of an animal they felt a bond to. However, he knew enough of the humans by now to be reasonably certain that this was not the change the woman had in mind.
“They became more reclusive”, she spoke. “Rarely left their borders to trade and when they did, they were all dour-faced and grim. And their visits became rarer and rarer. At first, they spoke highly of Laniare, but last time I met one of them, about a month ago, that had changed” She glanced around. “The trader I talked to, he told me I was right. Told me Laniare is a witch and that she brought ruin upon the village. He left to the west, vowed to never return to these lands”
“And there's the land itself”, the man closest to her growled. “If you plan on going there, do not. It's a three-days ride to Drakesfield, but for the last week or so, none of us have managed to ride into that direction for more than a day” He seemed grizzled and tough, not the type of man to give up easily. And yet, Yveshin could tell he was shaken, probably not just from what happened at this Acre of Boron.
“I can hardly describe it”, he mumbled. “It's... as if all life is slowly sucked out of the land the more you go east. The air is stale and behind the bridge, I haven't seen a single animal” He frowned. “I don't even want to imagine how much worse it has to be in Drakesfield itself. And even then, we haven't heard anything from the village itself”
“It's the same we told the other group”, the woman now spoke up again. “They came here a few hours ago. Six people, they had a dwarf with them. Their leader wore a fine coat and he spoke with a darpatian accent. Fine manners on that one, but he was stubborn. Told us he'd hunt the Man in Black down for us, but I fear he fell victim to him instead”
“Sounds like someone we know”, Iiro replied, as he glanced at Yveshin. “I wonder if Agent Delian regrets his decision by now. The Formidable Six don't seem to have done him a favour so far” He placed a hand on his heart. “Thank you for telling us about this”, he spoke towards the woman. “If we can bring the man who did this to justice, I swear we will”
The woman gave him a crooked grin. “The Darpatian said pretty much the same thing”, she revealed. “Stay in our village for as long as you want, stranger. But when you move east, take care. You seem like decent folk. It'd be a shame if the Man in Black claims you as well” She turned to the rest of her men, who were still inspecting the graveyard. “Though if you stop him, our gratitude will be yours forever”
She and her companions turned back to the graves, as Iiro saluted slightly. Then, he and the elves turned to the village. Yveshin had his fists clenched. “I don't know about this”, he admitted towards Iiro. “Your kind is prone to blow things out of proportion, but I have seen enough, the rumours, the nightmares. I fear we travel straight into a disaster”
The mercenary gave him a nod. “You and me both”, he mumbled. “I can handle myself, Vittorio is a mage and you two are elves. We can deal with whatever is going on in Drakesfield” He sighed. “But Mother Linai? You saw her, you think she can handle this?” Thea narrowed her eyes. “She looks bad”, she spoke up, before she realized how this sound. “I mean, not ugly, not more than most old humans”
Iiro chuckled without any joy. “I know what you mean”, he confirmed. “She looks drained. Hasn't slept properly in days. I fear this'll get only worse the closer we come to Drakesfield” He looked from Thea to Yveshin. “What do you think about this? I... well, I don't think we can risk it. If we take her with us all the way, who knows what happens. She might die from exhaustion”
“This is her journey”, Thea said slowly. “She wants to do this. Denying her would be wrong” Iiro raised an eyebrow. “Now, I know, you folk got a different opinion on death, but that ain't no joke”, he told her. “She might not like it, but if enough of us argue with her, maybe we can convince her to stay here in Runhag. She's a good woman and I don't want to risk her life”
“So, you think we should leave her here”, Yveshin asked, to which the mercenary gave her a nod. “That would be perfect”, he spoke. “She brought us far enough, we can do the rest on our own without putting her in danger. Are you with me on that one?” Thea shook her head. “I am not”, she clarified. “Do what you must, but I think that applies to her as well. She wants to do this and she should make her own decisions” Both of them looked at Yveshin. “What do you think?”, she asked.
[Agree with Iiro] [Agree with Thea]
Edmond
Shimmering air, heat, desert. It is vast, reaching beyond the horizon into all directions, a cloudless sky above. Blindingly bright, without any water or shapes. He climbs a gentle dune made of crusted sand, spotting the barren wasteland beyond. He wanders... for an eternity. Hours, days, weeks, he cannot tell...
Finally, he stops. He looks up at the infinite sky and waits... He doesn't know for whom or what, just that it won't be long. It is not over yet. Far in the distance, barely visible, he sees something. A figure. It is the Man in Black, the one he is waiting for. The time has come. It must be finished, here and now.
Time slows down, then it stops. The man is masked, his equal in height and build. Red twilight covers the world around them in darkness. A glaring light. A single enemy. A fight with sword and spell, with feints and spins. Over and over, his enemy is hit and yet, he does not go down. He deals blow after blow in return, while their spells gnaw at each other's mind.Finally, he manages to tear down the mask. A face glares at him with naked hatred. His own face. With clenched teeth, he drives his blade into the face. Where it shatters, his own does as well. He feels unfathomable pain, as his face reforms. A bolt of lightning hits his leg and scorches it to the bone. The enemy growls in pain, as his leg scorches just as well. Pain beyond description.His sword pierces the heart of his enemy. His own heart. He dies. They both die...
Edmond nearly jumped up as the dream ended without warning. He felt a hand on his shoulder and it took him a moment to recognize Korobar, as he almost lashed out at the necromancer. “Gods...”, he gasped. “By the gods...” He noticed the dark expression on Korobar's face. “I... I had...”
“A nightmare”, Korobar finished his sentence. “I know. So did I” Edmond narrowed his eyes, as he looked around. He was at their camp, a few hours beyond Runhag, in a grove near the road, surrounded by twisted trees. It was the last day of Ingerimm's month, the height of summer and yet, the air felt stale and almost cold, the ground was dry and the trees had lost almost all of their leafs, the few that remained being brown and withered. The whole land, it withered. He didn't need to be a druid to realize this.
“You don't dream...”, Edmond mumbled, remembering what the necromancer had told him several days ago. He also immediately realized what this meant. “This means... your dream wasn't your own” Korobar nodded grimly. “Indeed, what you and I have dreamt of, what this whole duchy dreams of, those are not our dreams”, he explained. “It took me a few weeks to make the connection, but it all makes sense now. What we see in our sleep, they are merely echoes of the true dreams”
“Then who is the dreamer?”, Edmond asked, even if he could already guess the answer. His heartbeat quickened, as he wanted to hear it from Korobar. The necromancer glanced into the distance. “What happens when a god dreams?”, he asked in return. “Imagine a puddle of water, perfectly still. Each dream is like a stone dropped into it and what we experience are the ripples. The closer we get to the centre of it all, the more intense it gets”
“A god... you mean...?”, Edmond gasped and Korobar gave him a nod. “What you saw is a fragment of what Borbarad sees, what he experiences in the prison his own brother threw him into”, the necromancer confirmed, which caused Edmond to shiver. “Borbarad's dreams...”, he mumbled. “He honours us with this”
Korobar chuckled. “I believe he cannot help it”, he brought up. “A god, a true god, radiates power, up to his dreams. Perhaps, in his current predicament, he cannot prevent them from leaking into the minds of everyone around He glanced at the ground. “Looking around, it seems Hamid has already started the ritual. It's the only explanation I have for why the dreams are getting worse”
Edmond narrowed his eyes. “He already started?”, he barked. “Then what are we waiting for? We have to get to Drakesfield. I won't miss out on this!” He attempted to jump up, but Korobar forced him down with one hand. “Easy, Edmond”, he spoke. “The ritual will take days. We don't have to be there for most of it, so we don't have to hurry now” He shook his head. “No, I woke you because there is something else we need to tend to before that”
His words caused Edmond to realize at once what the necromancer meant. And he noticed that almost all of the undead weren't present, the only exception being the one Edmond had raised. Even now, he did not trust the animated corpse, its lifeless eyes staring into the nothingness. In life, it had been a man, the only indicator of its advanced age being the few remaining strands of dirty, white hair.
“I sent them to the other side of the road”, Korobar revealed, having followed Edmond's gaze. “But I cannot command yours. Come, we might need it” Edmond clenched his fists. “How much time do we have?”, he asked, to which Korobar shrugged. “A few minutes. My scout saw them down the road, just a few miles back. They have horses and are determined to catch up to us” A fiendish smile formed on his face. “Oh, they should be careful what they wish for” His cold hand reached down, to help Edmond back onto his feet. “Now, come on”, he spoke. “It's time to get our vengeance”
Together, the two mages made their way down the small path that led out of the grove, up a small hill, to the road. They had left the imperial road behind completely by now. Instead, the road between Runhag and Drakesfield was still under construction, but in these chaotic times, neither realm nor duchy were putting much effort into finishing it, not when orks and usurpers had to be repelled.
The undead followed on Edmond's command, but the grey mage felt a chilling sensation as the creature obeyed. He could see why so many considered necromancy tasteless. In life, this man had a family, friends, hopes and dreams. And though his soul had moved on to Alveran long ago, it still felt wrong to use his body like this, to force him into such servitude. Wrong, but unfortunately necessary. Borbarad's world would be a better one, free of such injustice. Until then, Edmond begrudgingly had to use even such tactics if it meant a chance at bringing Borbarad back.
“Ah, stop crying, lassie!”, a harsh, deep voice growled. Edmond vaguely remembered it as the grim dwarf who had been riding with Plainsbridge. “Brodar's dead. Now pull yerself together and get over it” In the distance, Edmond could see half a dozen riders, slowly approaching. The dwarf was among them, talking to the blonde girl. And in front of them rode none other than Delian of Plainsbridge.
“You murdered him”, the girl hissed. “Shot him right in the heart. Now shut up and don't tell me to get over it!” Her voice was shaky, tired and tearful. The dwarf however sounded almost angry. “I shot him because I had to!”, he defended himself. “Dinnae know if ye saw it, but he had a spike in head. Poor sod was already dead”
The girl shook her head. “He wasn't”, she mumbled. “He always trusted you, he always wanted to give you a chance and that is how you repay him?” The dwarf chuckled, but before he was able to say something, Delian of Plainsbridge stopped his horse, raising an arm, as he glanced around. He was not almost next to their position and Edmond pressed himself onto the ground to avoid being seen, as the dry leafs gave barely enough cover.
“Fuck...”, the agent suddenly shouted. “Form ranks!” In this moment, on Korobar's silent order, his undead shambled out of the woods to their right. “It's an ambush!” The mercenaries were all on horseback, which gave them a natural advantage, but unlike mortal fighters, the undead were not intimidated by their mounted opponents. In fact, the roles were reversed, as the walking corpses caused dread within the animals. And Edmond realized in this moment just why exactly Korobar had to kill his horse, seeing how uneasy the trained mounts grew in the presence of the undead.
“Another ambush, Korobar?”, Plainsbridge shouted and Korobar used this moment to reveal himself. Dramatically rising from the ground, he spread his arms. “Why, Delian!”, he replied. “It doesn't have to end in bloodshed. We have you surrounded and outnumbered. Lay down your weapons and...” He was interrupted by the dwarf shooting a crossbow bolt into his direction. It failed to take the necromancer out, as it missed him by a solid two feet and he didn't even flinch as it flew past him.
“Damn...”, the dwarf growled and with this, the chance for talk was over. Not that Edmond wanted it either way. This man, he had to die. “Attack Plainsbridge!”, he yelled and his undead charged forward. “Take him alive!”, Korobar added. “I don't want him to get away so easily. Take them alive!” He and Edmond exchanged a brief glance, an unspoken agreement. A blade in battle, it was too easy for the man who murdered Liscom. If anything, Edmond trusted his uneasy ally to give Delian of Plainsbridge a true nightmare.
“Hyah!”, the blonde girl yelled, as she forced her horse into Korobar's and Edmond's direction. She wore a bastard sword, almost too large for her to wield it with one hand, though as Edmond began to prepare a spell, Korobar stepped forward, not the slightest bit intimidated by her charge. He merely spread his arms and as it came closer, Edmond noticed how something changed within the horse. A determined charge turned into blind panic, as the animal changed direction. The girl desperately tried to get it back under her control, as it instead carried her off down the road to Drakesfield.
Meanwhile, the other mercenaries had issues with their animals as well. The dwarf, in the process of reloading his weapon, was downright thrown off his mount. The other three, a brutish, short-haired woman and a man with similar features, alongside a lanky boy, each attempted to charge the undead, but quickly realized how their animals would disobey the command. With a heavy heart, they dismounted, just in time to stop the undead in their charge. The zombies weren't particularly fast or graceful, but terrifyingly unstoppable once they started to move. They knew no fear, no pain and could shrug off injuries that would immediately kill any living being. Though Edmond might not like them, he had to admit that they were truly proving their worth right now.
Armed with crude weapons, which Korobar had stolen from an abandoned watchtower on the way, they were outmatched by the skilled sellswords, who in return were outnumbered two to one and soon, all three of them found themselves in a desperate fight against two opponents, while the girl still tried to get her panicked animal under control again and the dwarf slowly got up from the ground, his own horse already charging back to Runhag.
This left Delian of Plainsbridge. Wisely, the Middenrealm agent had dismounted. If there was a single good thing Edmond could say about the man, it was that he was no coward. In fact, while his sellswords were more busy with mere minions or with themselves, he bravely drew his sword, pointing it at the two mages. “Ready to surrender, Delian?”, Korobar chuckled.
Defiantly, Delian glared back at them. “By the authority bestowed upon me in the name of Dexter, Baron Nemrod, I, Delian of Plainsbridge, hereby order you to surrender!”, he barked, as he slowly approached them and Edmond's lone undead. “Resistance is a capital crime” Korobar grinned at him in obvious glee. “What, another one?”, he asked. “Please, my old friend, surrender and you can save your men”
Delian did not reply. Instead, he mumbled something, which Edmond supposed was a brief prayer to the Twelve Gods, before he charged at them. His zombie was in the way first and Plainsbridge's fine blade clashed against the crude axe. Behind him, the brutish woman managed to beat down one of her opponents, but Edmond suspected that the blunt force was not enough to finish the zombie for good.
“Ser!”, she yelled, as she immediately attempted to run to her leader's aid. Another zombie quickly got in her way, while the other one, her punch having caved in part of its head, was slowly getting back on its feet. The other brute, likely her brother, held his own against two zombies, but he was more focussed with defending himself than taking down his opponents.
It was the other man, the lanky boy, who was the biggest liability. Edmond didn't have to be a tactical genius to realize this much. He was barely holding against two zombies and unlike the siblings, who fought with grim seriousness, he was almost as panicked as the horses. He was waving his blade around, barely parrying and keeping the zombies away from him.
As such, it was no surprise to Edmond that he was the first to fall. He unfortunately twisted to the side to evade a strike he could have easily parried, right into the raised knife of the second zombie. It pierced the thin leather that covered his side, digging deep into his flesh, between the bones and entering his chest. The boy screamed in sheer agony, spitting blood in the process, while Korobar, with sudden fury, turned to the fighters. “Take them alive, I said!”, he barked, as the zombie, unmoved by the order, pulled the knife from the dying boy. With careful, determined steps, the necromancer approached them. Edmond saw that he had his hand close to the bag at his belt, where he kept the silver needles.
“NO!”, the brutish woman yelled, as she began to hack at her opponents, who were suddenly a lot less focussed on actually fighting. Two held her back, while a third, the one who had just killed the young boy, was approaching from behind. Her brother was not doing any better, having to fight against three zombies at once.
Delian of Plainsbridge looked shaken at the death of his young companion. He bravely fought against Edmond's zombie and admittedly, he was doing a fine job at it, but there was a grim hatred on his face that matched to perfectly what Edmond himself felt for this man. His blade pierced the undead flesh, but it failed to cause any significant damage.
With a groan, the dwarf managed to get up to his feet again, the crossbow in his hands not reloaded. Korobar stopped for a moment and gave him a careful glare. For a second, the two stared at each other, before the dwarf did perhaps the smartest thing he could do. He did not even try to attack the necromancer, but instead, he turned to the grove and began to run as fast as his short legs could carry him.
Satisfied with this, Korobar did nothing to stop him either, as he instead continued to approach the siblings. The woman managed to strike a good hit against one of the two zombies in front of her, piercing the skull and this time, Edmond was sure the creature would not rise again. In return, the zombie behind her managed to grab her with his cold, dead, yet surprisingly strong arms.
The woman's eyes widened, as her brother noticed her predicament. “Alwina!”, he yelled and like a berserker, he began to hack at the three zombies around him, which prevented him from getting to his sister. It was to no avail and all he gained in return was a nasty cut at his upper arm, as one of the zombies used the new opening.
Edmond's attention was forced back onto Delian of Plainsbridge, as the agent managed to cleanly decapitate his zombie. Breathing heavily, the man immediately pointed his blade at Edmond, who stared at it with a cold, stoic expression. “Any last words?”, Delian growled, as Edmond gave him a nod. “Yes”, he merely replied. “
Fulminictus”
He felt the magic running through his fingers and into his staff, before it hit Delian of Plainsbridge, invisible, yet with the force of a formidable blow. The Fulminictus was among the most basic, yet most devious spells in Edmond's repertoire. A silent, invisible wave of magic, causing no external injuries, but hitting like a horse. With enough power put into it, he could easily kill a man without even causing a single visible injury.
In Delian's case, he deliberately spoke a weaker version of the spell. He wanted to incapacitate the man, not kill him. As such, the agent was shoved back, sinking to the ground and holding his stomach. A pained groan came from his throat, but Edmond was just getting started. “
Fulminictus!”, he yelled again, as he pointed the staff at his opponent.
This time, Delian outright screamed, writhing in agony. Edmond raised his staff, letting it smash down upon his defenceless enemy. Grim satisfaction rushed through him as he felt the wood hitting flesh and bone. Delian barely managed to shield his face, trying to twist away from Edmond, who shoved the end of the staff against the agent's back. “
Fulminictus!”, he barked again, unleashing another wave of magic, followed by a bloodthirsty chuckle. As if it by lightning, Delian twitched and writhed and as he opened his mouth, he involuntarily spat blood.
A triumphant grin on his face, Edmond raised his staff again. “Edmond!”, Korobar barked and reluctantly, the mage turned his attention to his companion. Korobar was kneeling over the captured woman, a silver needle in his hand, while she was held down by two zombies. “I want him alive”, he warned him. “Deprive me of my vengeance and you will receive the fate I desire for him!”
The warning was spoken in a chillingly cold tone, as he pushed the needle deep into the struggling woman's head. Her brother let out a roar of anger and in his blind fury, he indeed managed to sever most of a zombie's head, causing the reanimated body to grow limp. It wasn't enough, as the other two zombies finally overpowered him. Bleeding from several smaller injuries, he was forced onto his knees, having to witness Korobar driving a silver needle into his sister's head.
Immediately, she stopped resisting and Korobar chuckled. “So much better than the undead”, he mumbled without looking up. “You did well today, Edmond. The day is ours and soon, the whole world will know!” He turned to the other mercenary, who was still struggling desperately.
It was in this moment that Edmond felt something new and decidedly unpleasant. The tip of a knife, pushed against his throat, almost piercing it, a hand grabbing him from behind and holding him tightly and a woman's voice, barely more than an angered whisper, right at his ear. “Drop it!”, the girl hissed. “Drop the staff!”
He did not follow her order quick enough, still a bit surprised she managed to sneak up on him. Silently, he had to curse himself, however, for forgetting about her. He had been so preoccupied with Delian of Plainsbridge, who was now cowering before his feet in pain, that he ignored the girl as she had brought her horse back under control. He and Korobar both.
“Hey!”, she yelled and Korobar looked up, turning away from the final mercenary. He raised an eyebrow. “Oh”, he merely said. His captive started to struggle a bit more again. “Geshmine, what are you doing?”, he barked. “Get the fuck out of here, they are going to kill you!”
Edmond felt how she shook her head. “Shut up!”, she hissed in return. “I'm not leaving you behind” The knife almost pierced Edmond's throat. “Now, I won't say it again, drop it, both of you!” At last, Edmond followed her order. She wasn't exactly the commanding type, but anyone could be intimidating when pressing a knife to his throat.
Korobar remained unmoved, though he slightly tilted his head, giving her a smug grin. “How unexpected”, he spoke and she gasped in anger. “Let my friends leave!”, she demanded. “Do it right now, or I will cut his throat!” Edmond did not even dare to gulp, that was how close the knife was to his flesh. She didn't say anything about Plainsbridge, so he considered it a fair trade. His life for that of two random sellswords.
To his growing horror, however, Korobar did no such thing. Instead, the necromancer shrugged. “I will just raise him again”, he said and Edmond wasn't the only one caught by surprise by his coldness. He saw Geshmine's grip around the dagger tightening. “You won't do this”, she claimed. “He saved your life, over at the mill. I saw it!”
Korobar gave her a nod. “That he did and for that I will be eternally grateful”, he promised, his grin widening. “For that, I will raise him again, force his spirit back into his dead body and grant him a new life. In time, he will realize that you are about to do him a favour. Do you truly want to do this?”
“Let them go, or you will find out!”, Geshmine yelled. “I don't care for Plainsbridge, but these two are basically family. Let us go and we will never bother you again!” Korobar thought about this for a moment. “Oh, I do like your temper”, he complimented her. “Such ferocity. How about I make you a different offer?” He extended his hand towards her in a warm gesture. “Let him go and instead of driving a needle into your head, I will allow you to join us. A new era is coming and someone of your zeal can make it very far. The rewards will be all you can imagine. Gold and silver, riches and fame! You just have to follow my orders”
“You wish”, the girl replied. “I'm not interested in any new eras or in any reward you can offer All I want is to get out of this nightmare!” Korobar chuckled. “Wrong answer, girl”, he spoke and Edmond noticed a subtle change in his face. He seemed paler than before, more gaunt, almost skeletal. “The nightmare is just about to start”
“Korobar, what...”, Edmond dared to hiss slowly, as panic threatened to overcome him. In this very moment, the girl gasped and he felt the knife knocked away from his throat, as it slipped through her grasp. He immediately broke free, turning around, as Geshmine stumbled into his direction. He grabbed her by the shoulders, as her blue eyes gazed at him in confusion. Immediately, it turned to anger and her clenched fist hit him in the stomach, heavily so.
As Edmond groaned, Geshmine spun around, just in time to receive a heavy blow from someone standing behind her. She staggered to the ground, revealing none other than the dwarf, who had just punched her with the hilt of his crossbow. Before she could move, he pointed the loaded end of the weapon at her. “Don't ye move a muscle, lass!”, he growled.
“Berosh...”, she managed to gasp, blood flowing through the small gash on her cheek. As Edmond turned from the dwarf to Korobar, he realized how pleased the necromancer was at this turn of events. “A reward, ye say?”, Berosh spoke up. “Dunno why they are all against it, but I say that sounds fine by me. I wanna to work for ye, no needle or anything”
“Berosh, what are you doing?”, Geshmine gasped and despite her fearless anger towards Edmond and Korobar, the mage now spotted a hint of despair in her voice. The dwarf gave her a cold glance. “Shut yer bloody trap, Geshmine”, he spat. “Ye talk too much. Always got on me nerves” He shook his head. “T'is about respect. Don't ye dare claiming that I'm yer friend, that I'm family. I heard how ye and that ox Brodar laughed at me, how ye all looked down upon me” He placed a boot on her chest, keeping her down without effort. “Who'll look down upon me now?”
Korobar raised an eyebrow. “Who indeed”, he spoke in a tone so dry that only Edmond caught the subtle mockery. “A wise choice, Master...?” The dwarf saluted, still pointing the crossbow at Geshmine with one hand. “Berosh”, he introduced himself. “Son of Brumil, so they call me, but come to think of it...” He spat onto the ground. “Fuck Brumil. Never did a good thing for me”, he clarified. “Nah, just last night, I met a different father. In me dream, the Black Hand spoke to me. Promised me riches, promised me respect and revenge”
Edmond carefully gazed at the dwarf, as he recognized the term. “The Black Hand...”, he mumbled, as he spotted what he was looking for. The fine veins within the dwarf's eyes had turned black, the iris shimmering with a barely notable hint of red. “You made a pact with the Lord of Vengeance”, he realized and Berosh gave him a nod. “Ye can call me Berosh Son of Blakharaz!”, he proclaimed.
“Oh Berosh...”, Gesmine mumbled, the hint of tears forming in her eyes. The dwarf, however, looked solely at Korobar. “So, do we have a deal?”, he asked, to which the necromancer gave him a nod. “We have!”, he agreed, as he approached them, leaving the other sellsword still trapped by zombies, with his sister silently raising from the ground and following Korobar like a shadow.
“I appreciate a smart man”, the necromancer complimented the dwarf. “You will find that we don't look down upon you. Serve me well and you will be a part of the new world!” The dwarf shrugged. “Yeah, whatever”, he said. “As long as I get paid” Korobar extended a hand and the dwarf shook it. Then, he knelt down to Delian of Plainsbridge, who was just barely recovering from Edmond's attack. “My, my, Agent Delian”, he whispered. “It seems you should have chosen your companions with more care. This is the second time you're losing all of them, but at least this time, we have someone with brains among them”
He gave one of his zombies a nod. “Guard him”, he ordered the creature, which reached down to Delian. The Agent groaned in pain, as the zombie dragged him away a few feet. “And what about her?”, Edmond asked, as he stared at the captured girl. Even now, she glared at them with fury and he considered that to be a very respectable quality. And she was, indeed, beautiful. Killing her would bring him no joy.
“Just get it over with!”, Geshmine spat defiantly. “But you better make sure I'm dead, else I'll come back for you!” Korobar chuckled. “I do like you, girl”, he claimed. “So lively, so youthful. It would be a shame to put such energy to waste. There will be no needle for you today” He shook his head, as he flashed Edmond a grin. “My friend, I believe we have found ourselves the final sacrifice”
His words caused brief panic to flash over the young woman's face and she heavily bit down onto her lower lip. “Hamid will be delighted”, the necromancer spoke. “And why, you are exactly what we have been looking for. Maybe I owe your leader my gratitude” He reached for another needle. “Now, to your companion”, he said, as he turned to the other captured sellsword.
Edmond sighed, as he saw the despair in the girl's face. “It will be alright”, he tried to calm her down, only for her to shoot him a hateful glare. “You... you will be part of something good, something that will change the world” She opened her mouth to speak, undoubtedly another angry remark, proving that she was not yet understanding a word of what he was trying to explain. However, she was interrupted by a commotion to the side.
Immediately, Edmond raised his staff, as he noticed that Delian of Plainsbridge had managed to free himself. The man should be barely conscious by now, but somehow, using whatever strength he had left, he had managed to tear the zombie's weapon from its hands. It was a crude club and he had used it to smash open the creature's skull. For a moment, Edmond was amazed at such determination.
Then, he realized that Plainsbridge was free to run and he did just that. Despite his significant injuries, he charged past the zombies before the slow creatures could react, running down the road to Runhag without looking back. “Ignifaxius!”, Edmond yelled, unleashing another spell from his staff. The lance of flame missed Delian by a good three feet, scorching the dry ground next to him.
“No, don't kill him!”, Korobar ordered and Berosh lowered his crossbow again. The necromancer stared after the fleeing agent, before he let out a whistle. “I told you I want him alive” Edmond immediately rushed towards his companion. “He's getting away”, he hissed, as he readied another spell. Maybe Plainsbridge would survive another Fulminictus.
“It's a day's march to Runhag”, Korobar disagreed. “And he won't get very far with his injuries” Indeed, Delian was only dragging himself forward. His mangled body couldn't go on like this for too long. And out of the underbrush came Korobar's undead horse. “We have to go after him”, Edmond spoke, to which Korobar shook his head. “Not we”, he stated, as he approached the captured man, a silver needle in his hand. “The ritual has already started. I do not know if Hamid needs the final sacrifice, but if he does, you have to bring her to him quickly”
“You plan on going after Plainsbridge alone?”, Edmond hissed. The necromancer shook his head, as he shoved the needle into the head of the heavily struggling mercenary. Immediately, the man fell limp. “I will take this one and the undead with me. You take the woman and our new dwarven ally and bring the sacrifice to Drakesfield. Hamid is residing in the old tower near the village”
Edmond narrowed his eyes. “This is my vengeance too!”, he growled, noticing the subdued fury in Korobar's dark eyes. “Your vengeance...”, the necromancer hissed. “Had you been less focussed on your vengeance, perhaps you would have incapacitated Delian instead of torturing him to the brink of death. Perhaps then you could have casted a spell now without fear of killing him before his time” He glanced at the captured Geshmine. “And had you been less focussed on our lovely new sacrifice, perhaps you would have noticed this half-dead man breaking free and escaping!”, he added. “Nether Hells, I can hardly do all the work, can I?”
Edmond sighed, as Korobar shoved a finger into his chest. “I promise, vengeance will be ours”, he claimed. “But right now, I need you to swallow your pride. Right now, I need you to follow my orders, because it is what we need, what the Borbaradians need! It is what your bloody master would have wanted!”
For one second, Edmond was willing to reply harshly. Then, however, he quickly calmed down, as he realized, as much as he hated it, that Korobar was right. “Alright, I will do as you command. The girl will be brought to Hamid ben Seychaban”, he agreed reluctantly. “Go after Plainsbridge. But I want to be there when his life ends!” Korobar nodded. “I'll catch up to you in Drakesfield, as soon as I have him”, he promised, as he quickly climbed onto his horse.
“Forth!”, the necromancer barked and the brutish sellsword, as well as the four undead began to run down the road, after Delian of Plainsbridge. Korobar's horse raised up, standing solely on its hind legs for a moment, as the necromancer pointed his staff down the road. He turned around and gave Edmond a triumphant grin. “To our destiny!”
No Choices for this part