“Straighten out the spine, damn it! You want this thing to look like some kind of gremlin!?”
“Maybe if you hadn’t fractured the skull, I wouldn’t be having so much trouble fusing the two together!” A reply arrived full of fury, “-And what in the Dragon’s name are you doing with those wings!? It won’t even be able to take off when they’re that size! You need to relocate more of the ribs!”
“You think that just because you’re a ‘Deathguard’, you can order me around like that!?” The other yelled, “I was melding flesh when you were still shitting yourself, so don’t go acting like you know anything about fleshwarping!”
“Oh, that’s rich! I’ve got at least 5 years on you! I’d bet my left-”
“Shut up, you two!”
Suddenly, a hand was upon each of their skulls, and the two were butting heads sharply enough to bring their argument to a traumatic close. Marché and Roland clutched their foreheads and stepped away from one-another while Drayya stood between them with arms crossed. She looked their specimen up and down, taking in the peculiarities of its design with a discerning eye.
“The flesh is overworked… the bone structure is weak… the wings are too small… the posture is hunched…” She listed, “Neither of you are in the right - this is all wrong! Weren’t you paying attention during Lieze’s lecture!? Stand back and really try to observe what I’m doing as I fix your mistakes - and if I hear so much as a peep from either of you, I’ll peel back your skulls and give your brains the beatings they deserve!”
Things were getting lively in camp. Drayya and Lüngen spared no quarter in educating those who hadn’t been paying full attention during Lieze’s demonstration of how to create a Grotesque. While they struggled to perfect the theory, more of the creatures were sculpted from Lieze’s own hands, taking flight to the darkened skies where their foul screeches echoed across the forest.
Her scale hadn’t provided her with a convenient breakdown of the Grostesque’s capabilities - probably because it was simple enough to put together the details herself. The newly-created thrall inherited the level of the Gravewalker used to create it, and while it lost most of its trademark durability, the boon of flight and a jaw capable of snapping down with enough force to crush bone more than made up for it.
Those who weren’t qualified to replicate her creation had been sent out to the meadow’s perimeter on the lookout for Elves or Rootborne, though Lieze had her doubts that either would be making an appearance - she didn’t intend to remain in one place for long. The final step on her long climb towards total victory was approaching, and there was no chance she was going to lose her footing at the last moment.
Unlike Tonberg or the Dwarven Mountains, she had no reference for the defensive capabilities of the Black City bar word of mouth from Baccharum, who insisted that its encompassing walls were the only bulwark separating its people from the beastly land beyond. If that was true, then Lieze would only have to force her way in, kill the Head Shaman, and steal his gemstone.
“...As if it will be that simple.” She thought, “If the Rootborne aren’t attacking us now, they’re probably gathering near the Black City to mount a defence. Not only that, but we’ll have the Elves and the Scion of transmutation to deal with as well… it’s bound to be a long fight.”
And yet, somehow, that thought excited her. A true challenge. She could only hope that the Head Shaman was intelligent enough to provide her with a satisfying battle.
“Hah… I can’t believe those fools.” Drayya’s voice creeped into her ears, “You ought to discipline them more, Lieze. They should be hanging onto your every word. They call themselves necromancers, but as soon as they have to sculpt something fresh and exciting, they’re no more than novices.”
“Hm. They’ll catch on.” Lieze’s shortness of breath only became apparent when her attention was diverted from the Grotesque she was working on, “...It’s a challenging thrall to create. One needs a delicate touch and a sharp mind to get the design just right.”
“I get it. This is your roundabout way of praising me for nailing it on my first attempt.” Drayya beamed and placed both hands on her hips, “It’s nothing special - the least that could be expected of a Drayya, really.”
She was fishing for a reaction, chiselling away at Lieze’s shell in the hope that she’d catch a glimpse of the sensitivity beneath. Lieze found it endearing, the way she sought compliments infallibly even at the advent of the world’s end. She half-expected the girl’s attitude to take a sour turn towards the end of the Order’s journey.
“Awkward silence, listless stare, unreadable expression…” Drayya sighed, “You’re overthinking as usual, I see. Or imagining me without my clothes on. I think your quality of life would improve significantly if you did more of the latter than the former.”
“Do you fear death, Drayya?” The question slipped Lieze’s lips unconsciously.
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“Death?” She paused, “Death? You want to know if I fear death?”
“That’s what I asked, isn’t it?”
“The cessation of all things. Worldly oblivion, separated from the shells of our flesh to coexist marvellously within the unknown, becoming one with a cosmic weave no mortal can truly understand. War, famine, disease, pride, passion, ambition - all of these ‘human’ traits, gone with the wind…” Drayya pursed her lips, “Mm. No - I don’t think so.”
She took a step forward and placed her hands on Lieze’s shoulders, “-But there was a time when ‘death’ meant something different to me. I didn’t seek oblivion, cessation, or nothingness, but some kind of divine immortality granted to me by the Blackbriar. ‘Death’ was never a means to an end - a salvation with the betterment of our souls in mind - but just another step on the journey to absolute power.”
Lieze couldn’t help but relate to those words. After all, she’d been raised under the same dogma, groomed to fulfil the outdated ambitions of necromancers she never knew, all too eager to shoulder the burden of meaningless slaughter without questioning her purpose. Sokalar trapped her in a world of delusions perpetuated by fear and her innocent desire to be loved. His praise was rare, but just common enough to string along her drive to please him. Unbeknownst to her, it was all a ploy to deepen her obsession with necromancy.
A father desires no ‘reason’ to love his daughter. His affections spring out naturally, offering everything and expecting nothing in return. But Lieze was not a product of love, and neither was her birth treated as anything more complicated than the latest in a long line of experiments. The fact that she’d only arrived at that conclusion more than two decades later made her heart swell with loathing. She was nobody’s daughter.
“If it wasn’t for you, I’d still believe all that.” Drayya continued, “Now the very same idea; sacrificing my body to join some dying God in the afterlife; obediently serving the cruel wheel imposed upon us… it terrifies me. With all we’ve discovered in mind, I’ve been tossing and turning every night, struggling to accept that everything I’ve ever believed has turned out to be a lie. I’m sure the others are the same.”
“I… I also don’t want to believe that.” Lieze turned around, “Everything was so much simpler before. I thought the afterlife would eliminate the need for suffering, but the ‘afterlife’ we know is nothing but a cage manufactured by cosmic forces. Now there is no ‘salvation’ - no ‘freedom’ or ‘enlightenment’ waiting for us on the other side. Only oblivion.”
Was the Order evil? She didn’t entertain the thought for long - of course it was. But their cruel acts of slaughter across the continent were all in the name of a better world. In that twisted way, Sokalar was more graceful in his intentions than Lieze would ever be. He believed - foolishly - in a perfect world beyond the material plane, blissfully unaware that he was playing right into the Gods’ fickle hands.
Lieze’s vow couldn’t be called ‘just’ by any measure of the term. She did not believe in the human soul; perseverance, heroism, and justice, she had witnessed, were all paths that lead to ruin in one way or another. She killed for lack of faith in humanity’s ability to coexist with the natural world. But how much of that philosophy was the child within her lashing out from jealousy at never having experienced the joy of life herself?
No matter the answer, she was truly evil. And however far her ‘evil’ could be justified was of no consequence to her psyche. If even the slightest inkling of doubt had inflicted her on the path, she would have already abandoned her quest. It was a small miracle that Drayya, Lüngen, and the others were still accompanying her.
“...I suppose we don’t have a right to complain about it.” Drayya resolved, “Whether it’s tragic or not, we’re the ones trying to usher it in. Our fates were sealed the moment we first killed in the Order’s name, no matter how young we were.”
“This is the only way.” Lieze nodded, “I was born without purpose, raised like some kind of automaton, content to die for a cause I believed in but never understood. Bit by bit, I can feel the self beneath myself unravelling now that none of those chains remain. I couldn’t be more certain that this is what I was born to accomplish - if I was born to do anything at all.”
Drayya opened her mouth, but hesitated, “That doesn’t… no - that’s good. That’s exactly right.”
“You don’t want to die.” Lieze finished her thought, “I won’t hate you for saying so. We’ve only been free from Sokalar for a matter of months, and now we have to sacrifice that peace of mind to accomplish something greater. It doesn’t seem fair - I understand that.”
Drayya’s grip on her shoulders tightened, loosening just a second later as if afraid of exposing the sensitive truth that Lieze already knew.
“If things were different…!” She began, lowering her head to consider her next words, “-If we were in a different place, born under different circumstances, then couldn’t we have just been happy!? Instead of all this! It isn’t fair! That’s what I wanted to say! It isn’t fair!”
The ever-defiant Drayya complaining about something so human and imperfect revealed to Lieze just how infatuated the girl must have been. And just like that, her frustrations were gone, masked by the familiar confidence that laced her every word, “...Sorry.”
“No. You don’t need to apologise.” Lieze shook her head, “I feel the same way.”
“Hehe… that doesn’t make it any less upsetting.” Drayya lowered her hands and stepped towards the half-disfigured abomination balanced on the grass, “Let me help you finish this one off. I bet Roland and Marché will ruin their specimen again, so I’ll keep an eye on them afterwards.”
“You can take a break, if you want.” Lieze offered.
“I never thought I’d hear you say something so considerate.” She smiled, “But I’ll pass. Keeping my hands busy is more helpful than sitting around. Plus, we can’t afford to waste time, can we? Not when we’re so close.”
There was a certain desperation to her tone. Lieze was sure she was a few well-placed words away from breaking down. Drayya’s infallible loyalty in spite of her fear enlightened Lieze to just how dependable her comrades were.
“...You’re right.” She nodded, “It’s almost time.”