The once filled with life city that fell to silence after the rampage of the Deadfire in the Upper Stratum of the Bottom Layer of Mount Dhaugrúz is once again teeming with the noise of being lived in. Aivha watches from the distance as large groups of undead leave and enter the city, led by Undead Construct, some of which she has seen while there are one or two that she sees for the first time since she started keeping an eye on them.
In some cases, the undead group returns with less of their members while in others they return with more while dragging in defeated yet alive prey which fills her mind with questions on what the necromancer is aiming for with those creatures. After days of watching the city that she once visited as part of her tutelage under her former teacher in the arts of magic, she decides that it is time to take her chances and starts descending from the cliffside, slowly climbing down the cold dark jagged walls until she reaches down to the dimly lit bottom with grass possessing an ethereal cool light bluish glow.
Just as she arrives at the bottom, hear moderately long, sharp elven ears pick up on the heavy creaking footsteps approaching her position slowly. Her heart starts picking up its pace, a slight feeling of dread assaults her being which she tries to shield herself from as she picks up on the magical energies of a mind spell being used in the vicinity of the decrepit walls. She quickly spots the jagged rock formation large enough to serve as her hiding place, and without a second of thinking she silently jolts towards it. Her slender figure quickly crouches down and hides inside the naturally caved in part of the formation offering protection.
Then the gradually increasing noise of the footsteps get close enough for her to hear it even without the aid of magic. She coats herself in her own mana, her dark armor clad body turns completely transparent while she slowly crawls out of the hole peeking over the jagged edges. The slight dread she felt a moment ago returns even more intense as she notices the collection of five undead all malformed skeletons with their bones turned dark grayish, their necrotic energy corrupted souls dark as the starless night sky, wearing armors of all kinds including the elegant yet wickedly designed dark elven.
They are standing almost motionless, clearly looking around for something, cold sweat starts to condense on the dark bluish smooth forehead of Aivha as she sees one of the malformed skeletons turn towards her direction, a cold empty stare piercing into her straight. Then the dread starts to subside within her as all five of them turn to face the east and continue their patrol almost silently. A soft sigh of relief escapes the soft dark bluish lips hidden behind her facemask made of a leathery material and Aivha crawls fully out of the small hole in the formation, slowly sneaking towards the walls she starts climbing with the help of a pure aspectless spell that strongly sticks her palms and bottom of her foot to the dark marble of the wall.
With a graceful and fluid movement Aivha jumps over the decaying guardrail on top, landing elegantly and most importantly, silently on the wet appearing stone surface a few meters away from the undead patrolling on top, an orc zombie whose pale skin lost even what little color it once possessed, multiple wounds gruesomely decorating its body under the armor furred armor that seen better days after days of being exposed to the constant necrotic energies filling the undead.
For a moment the orc zombie turns back, like he heard the soft landing of the dark elven scout who is currently frozen in place staring right back at the orc zombie whose empty eyes slowly dart from up to right before it turns back and continues forward to the old tower at the west corner. Aivha lets out another sigh before she continues, quickly dropping down behind a moderately intact dark elven building.
She peeks out at the edges where she spots numerous undead seemingly resting near the walls of the building, their macabre, rotten heads lumped down, for some it almost falling down if not for the necrotic energies, while their empty eyes stare at the ground. Aivha gulps down a bit then she starts slowly sneaks between the two rows of undead while maintaining invisibility on herself. With each step her mind creates a fake creaking noise resembling the sound of their movement which often makes her turn her head to the sides, with each time the same scenery of the undead resting entering her vision.
Then she suddenly stops after turning her head back forward once again. She almost lets out a yelp as the towering figure of an ogre who’s upper left body’s skin is completely missing, exposing the dark reddish dry muscles and bones oozing with darkness that blocks what is beyond it, its brutish blank eyes staring right down at her with an anger that plastered on its face the moment life slipped through it. The rest of its body is cracked and the skin putrefied while its tusks are broken with one completely missing.
“Get up!” It’s deep guttural and dry voice echoes through the cavernous space of the street as it escapes its maw filled with the tusks and the moderately sharp decaying yellow teeth in an empty darkness that may serve as its voice, carrying an otherworldly authority within it. Aivha slowly backs away from the raised ogre while her eyes dart left to right witnessing the undead at the walls slowly get up, listening to their dented armor clanking, their bones drily creaking and their rotten, foul-smelling muscle’s mushy almost wet like sounds while also carrying an uncanny coldness with themselves as they pass by her.
For several minutes she holds back her breath, silently watching and listening as they move away in the darkness. She remains still, fear keeping her muscles stiff before she regains some semblance of her bravery and starts moving towards the alley nearby that is seemingly empty of the undead. She carefully courses through the relatively enormous underground city, evading the patrolling undead while also surveying the city. At certain points she stops and takes mental notes on things like the undead dwarves and dark elves working at the forge restlessly, making new armor for their brethren. After content of being seen enough she hears dry steps coming from behind her which she ignores after confirming twice at least that her invisibility protects her from the eyes of the undead.
“Guh” The pain of being hit on her head quickly jolts true her head, her consciousness drifts away in a blink of an eye. Then the undead construct with a body reaching two meters in height, an exposed upper body filled with magical runes glowing in the same dark light while its head is shaven and featureless with its mouth, eyes and nose seemingly grown in with skin blocking the way, fixes the posture of its dark spear reaching from the ground to its shoulders ending in a single pointy obsidian end and picks Aivha effortlessly up, dropping her over its shoulder.
**
“And so she went on her own journey?” The Arch-Magus Cacmieh says with a clear assertive tone in his deep voice mixed with four different demonic whispers that reverberates through the room filled with four thrones magically grown from the dark ground with jagged edges and a padded soft seating added post conjuring.
He looks down at Rodersha with his deep purple eyes, a sign of great magical prowess within the dark elven race, his face wrinkling while he is in deep thoughts after hearing his disciple setting off to their former border city. His robe rans down along his body with an almost oily texture thanks to the underground Void Rose used as one of its base materials, a living plant that feeds on the magical energies of dying or weak monsters. Brass etchings glowing in a strange orange light resembling demonic runes frame the middle parting while at the back they are sewn into a pentagram which’s edges curve into each other, almost stabbing through.
Under the robe he only wears a loose pants of the same gleaming dark material, while his exposed upper body is filled with rune scars pulsing with menacing lights, inscribed with various Disorder spells granted to him by various Primal Demons of the Abyss.
“You can leave now” The low and husky voice of Acniss, The Matriarch of the Deep resonates within Rodersha’s being, filling him with a mixture of dread and arousal at the same time. He looks up at the beautiful ageless figure of Acniss, blessed with ebony dark gleaming skin and a voluptuous body to go with it, long white hair braided and drenched in an ethereal aura adding a wicked divine look to her while contrasting her skin tone. The seven braids are each tied by wicked shadows that if one looks closer can make out the veiling faces of those who fell to her charm. Her body clad in long dress made of same material as Cacmieh’s ending in a long skirt open at the sides while on the top it forms into large, towering gaudy collars folded down, gently stroking her perfectly shaped jawline. Most of the dress is dyed in a dark violet color while the edges, trims are coated in liquid Vicidium possessing a dark silver metallic color. The back has her House’s symbol engraved in its smooth, gleaming texture, a blooming rose with spider legs sprouting and curving around it while the middle of the rose contains a demonic eye wide open, and according to some the pupils lock on to any who stare back at them. Around her neck, between the gaudy collars she wears a loop of dark silver thorns inset with dozens obsidian gems.
“So, is she a lost cause?” Acniss turns her deeply seductive looking head towards Cacmieh after the large stone double doors close with a short yet loud bang. The Arch-Magus starts stroking his long beard hanging from his chin reaching down to his exposed abdomen. “Possibly, but Aivha is a resourceful and promising student so for now let’s just wait for her return.” He turns his head, staring straight into Acniss, his young appearing face remaining motionless and cold seemingly in thought.
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“Now onto the more interesting topic. What do you make of these undead?” Her voice slowly shifts from the previous bored to one that has a tingling of curiosity in it.
“Without seeing an actual specimen, it is hard to say. But from their description I can deduct two things.” Cacmieh says, his motionless beautiful face contorts slightly as he searches through his memories, old ones in which he studied the forbidden aspects of magic, recounting the visible signs of all three.
“The necromancer has the backing of a being from between the planes, granting them the power to raise and take over the undead of the Traitor or there is no necromancer but an actual being moving in this plane without the Gods being aware thanks to the Deadfire’s spell.” He continues while starting to bruise his long white chin beard. “In any case with their behavior we can conclude that whichever it is they are not on the side of the Nightscale.” He shifts his body from a stiff position to one, more leisure, staring at the large door through which Rodersha left the two of them behind mere moments ago.
“Good, let’s hope that they won’t just aggravate the Deadfire.” Acniss slender hand reaches to the table beside her with an exquisite looking chalice resting on it with a dark liquid filled to almost to the brim of it. She takes a gentle sip, her lustrous soft lips covered in the dark liquid which she quickly licks off with her almost serpent like tongue. “Oh, should we inform them?” Acniss says while the two empty thrones between them enters the borders of her vision.
“Unnecessary until we know more.” Cacmieh quickly replies while seemingly still in thought, a minute of silence following between the two.
“Then let’s wish for the best for now.” Cacmieh says after pushing himself up from the chair with a spell. “I’ll meet them to discuss further possibilities” He elegantly bows down his upper body, his long white hair kept in the back falls over his shoulders, then he quickly fixes them using a spell once again before he slowly walks out, leaving Acniss in their makeshift council room, staring at the three other empty thrones with a contemplating look on her face.
**
The head splitting pain awakes Aivha who feels her soft hair gently caressing her soft dark bluish cheeks. “Uugh where am I?” she slowly sits up with her back resting on cold stone she feels even through her armor made of a dark hard leather like material. She starts massaging the back of her head, crudely rubbing her hair reaching down to her neck after being untied. Her vision remains a bit blurred but after a few minutes she manages to make out the dark details of the bars belonging to the cell she has been thrown in with two undead still retaining some of their flesh restlessly standing guard.
“Better than being dead” she thoughts to herself while letting out a sigh the softly echoed through the empty space of the cell. The next few minutes are spent in an awkward silence with the occasional sound of bones creaking coming from the undead whose meat already decayed to a point where part of its endoskeleton is exposed. Then the zombie human with the left side of his face missing, skull included, turns around and opens its mouth, or at least it resembles that.
“Let’s talk” It said with a low, raspy and distorted voice with the eerie echo mixed in, an effect of the spell that binds it to its master rather than the area’s, in a completely mechanical way, almost sounding like the automatons of the southern dwarves Aivha heard about from her master. For a moment Aivha feels a shiver run through her body, but she quickly dispels it, replacing it with excitement.
The one with part of its endoskeleton exposed turns towards the cell with the keys in hand and quickly opens it up in a fluid way not usual for the undead. “This way” The zombie human stands in front of Aivha who just stepped out of the cell, raising its arm towards the exit before it starts walking without making any sound.
**
The two arrived at the former residence of the last governor of the city. Without saying a word to her the Human Zombie leaves Aivha in front of the doorway with a creeping darkness inside that would otherwise would be thick enough to not see through if not for her dark elven eyes. For a few moments she stands in complete silence then she gulps one and slowly walks inside the spacious chamber with four columns holding the decrepit ceiling with a mural depicting the exile of her race to the deep.
Facing her is a long dark hallway guarded by tall undead constructs clad in well-crafted armor made in a sinister design, decorated with sharp edges, the surface clean without any engravement, the cold darkness oozing through the few openings between the pieces. Their mismatched heads are covered by a dark grayish ragged hood with some wearing featureless jagged helmets hiding their grisly features. Each of them holds a shield in their left hands and a long spear reaching above their heads in their right.
Aivha gets stopped just as she is about to enter the hallway, spears crossing in front of her while the two undead heads remain still, facing the direction of the entrance. Then a few moments later she starts hearing footsteps slowly approaching from the darkness where she makes out two figures, a shorter vampiric undead clad in a strange armored robe with marks unfamiliar to her with crimson red woven hood casting shadows over the bat like face half decaying.
The other a much taller figure clad in common dark elven Magus linen robes with an androgynous face veiled in shadows under the bulky hoods with dark golden edges with empty eyes, snow whitish elven pupils surrounded by an empty dark sclera. At first she though the figure is a moon elf but then she got unsure as she took a better look, noticing the jaw contrasting the almost albino white skin of his upper face, the dark skin almost dark elven extending down to the throat and even the lower chest above the loose pants seemingly dark.
Unconsciously she starts walking backwards while keeping an eye on the figure, a strange warm feeling dwells within her chest as he approaches behind the vampiric mage. “Welcome in my humble home.” The decaying jaw of the Vampiric Mage slowly opens revealing the fangs, one of its trademark features, appearing in front of the pitch black darkness filling its mouth, a mixture of fourteen different distorted voices, some guttural almost bestial, others high pitched, feminine while others deep, masculine. The warmness in her chest is slowly mixed with a hint of cold dread that makes her shiver, but she quickly gets over it and bows down elegantly.
“Excuse my insolence for the way I entered the city. Your city.” A moment of silence follows after she straightens her posture, staring into the hollow eyes of the Nameless while responding with a slightly shaking voice, feeling a heaviness in her throat for the first time in her relatively long life. “But my curiosity took the better of me. Your undead are exceptional.” She continues on with an admiration in her voice.
“I know, but before we go on a tangent. What do you seek here?” As Aivha’s soft lips start to move, the Vampiric Mage raises its almost skeletal hands and its distorted voices cutting into the start of her sentence. For a second a slight distressed look appears on her face. “I seek to know if we can be allies.” She answers back after looking down at the floor, noticing the feet of the Nameless seemingly covered in reptilian like scales dark as the night, and noticing his right hand oozing in darkness and ending in strange claws.
“An alliance.” Moments pass before the mixture of distorted voices escape the jaw of the Vampiric Mage. “Interesting.” This time the voice comes from the far left, distorted but a bit muffled an echoing as it comes from one of the Guardian Undead Constructs. “What are the benefits? For each of us.” Another speaks from the left followed shortly by one on the near right. Their heads moved slightly to face her, feeling their hidden empty eyes staring right back at her.
“We could share our knowledge, offer guidance in the Stratums below and with our forces combined we could easily take back the Upper and Lower Stratum and kill the Deadfire and his minions.” Aivha hastily replies, her deep voice echoing through the silence. “And after that?” the Vampiric Mage speaks this time. This time Aivha stays silent, for some reason she can’t come up with any answer. “Thought so. I am going to be honest. I have no need for an alliance. Especially with on involving your kind.” The four Guardian Undead Constructs speak in unison, each of their voices planting a feeling of uneasy in her.
“What I need is fodder.” A moment of silence follows, and Aivha notices the darkness inside the chamber slowly deepen swallowing the few features inside. “And one whom I can turn my back to, one who carries out my will unquestionably.” The Nameless slowly walks towards Aivha while the five undead speak in unison, their voices soothing her headache while settling an odd calmness inside her. “While you lack in some ways, you are still a promising one.” With each step the Nameless gets taller and taller in her field of vision, his androgynous face starts twisting and distorting with each step he takes. His eyes sink into dark, empty hollows and his mouth widens into a silent scream while his skin tightens around his skull, the bones pushing through in sharp, jagged edges. Dread propagates within Aivha as she watches his face twist into a grotesque, skeletal mask. “I need a myrmidon” The Nameless speaks as he towers over Aivha with a single dried, deep distorted voice that strangely stops the shivering of Aivha and fills her with a cold happiness as she feels his hands fold her tunic’s soft, gleaming collar down with his hands that are neither cold nor warm.
Without letting her answer, she feels the sensation of small needle like teeth piercing her neck. As the teeth pierces her, she immediately feels a sudden weakness assault her, stiffening her body. Then an indescribable pain batters making her want to scream from the bottom of her being, feeling something cold, piercing and mincing pain that is not of her bodies, but her souls. Her eyes gape wide open with tears forming in them while her lips contort into a silent scream while feeling her cold blood dripping down on her neck, but cleaned off by something wet that is neither warm nor cold. Then her muscles lighten and the world around her goes dark while her body falls to the ground with a soft thud.
The Nameless reaches looks at his palm with a maw filled with razor sharp teeth and four fangs with the lower ones a bit shorter. Then it closes and disappears while his androgynous face stares coldly at Aivha whose face slowly changes. Her previous small, pretty dark elven nose slowly elongates into a twisted snout, her closed eyes deepen while her skin stretches tightly over sharp, angular bones creaking under it. Her dark bluish skin fades into an almost corpse like paler bluish tone, still remaining glossy in a strange way.
As the transformation finishes he walks back to the dark hallway in silence and after his form disappears in the shadows, the Guardian Constructs grab the unconscious Aivha and leave through the tall and once ornate entrance door.