Prometheus trudged along with the dead, their joyless eyes, hollow-cheeked skulls, and decaying flesh a stark contrast to the fine landscape of rock, mist, and nature – now filled with the discordant sounds of clattering teeth, creaking bones, and bellowing roars from an array of grotesque chimeras. They marched without songs, battle cries, or drums – a sea of black, rolling out like relentless waves, and beating upon the shores of the living without fear, and no reason but hunger.
The necromancers moved their fingers languidly, almost like a dance, as they used the skill that would command the undead to march. Prometheus had no part in it; he felt almost invisible as the hordes of rotting creatures moved forward in choreographed precision, pressing against him until he followed them blindly into the dark, damp bowels of the mountain. He heard their putrid moans and smelled their foul stench, and yet still, he trudged on with only the memory of the general's orders to guide him into whatever fate awaited further ahead.
"Our master wants me to train you, to teach you what you need to survive to serve him well. He values sentience above all else in his servants, but in his wisdom, he forgets that the most important thing is not sentience itself – it is the climber and his will to climb upward. So I will not teach you, I will not coddle you, Live or die, breathe or suffocate – climb or fall – it is up to you and you alone, yes?"
A palpable shift in the air, a surge of hunger rippling through the marching dead, as a sound came from further inside the mountain. Now they were running, rushing, and tearing themselves out of the narrow pathway toward the life ahead.
Pouring out of the dark tunnel, the soft yet unkind glow from the cavern roof blinded Prometheus. He staggered and fell, pain shooting across his limbs as the legion flowed over him. Only by squirming and crawling like a mewling dog did he escape death by thousands of feet. Gasping, he sat against the jagged stone, looking out at the scene before him.
In the dim light from the hanging stalactites, Prometheus saw the legion of the undead throw themselves at an enormous barricade of solid rock. The looming walls were manned by dark figures of short stature but stout build who brandished metal rods and fired projectiles with each upward motion. They stood atop the walls, protected by their height, as below them, wave after wave of the dead fell to their strange weapons.
Soon, the legions of the dead began to form a rampart of their fallen brethren, over which they advanced ever higher until they were close to where the dark figures stood.
At that point, tiny figures – half the height of the dark figures – emerged from behind the wall, their hands glowing gold. As they gestured with each movement, a wave of heat was released—growing in force until it reached a blinding crescendo—which caused the undead army at the front, and that which they stood upon, to sizzle and melt. The undead army recoiled from the light, and Prometheus observed how the fallen undead beneath the walls began to burn and blaze until they were charred remains. Then, as the legion advanced again, they crushed these black outlines into dust and had to start over from the bottom of the barricade.
The tiny figures stepped back as their task was complete, and the dark figures raised their rods again. So it went on: wave after wave of undead advancing only to be decimated by the defenders' weapons, superior defenses, and tactics.
Prometheus sat against the wall, lips pursed, as he studied the battle in the cavern. An hour must have passed as he was rooted to the place, stunned by the gravity of the situation.
If he hadn't fallen down when he had, the black ghoul would be but ash in an unknown cave right now.
For all his wisdom, he could not think of why the necromancers would send in their forces like this each day, but he didn't have to think about it, nor why he had been sent here to die. For there could be no reason other than to die that he had been sent here. Someone must want him dead, someone very high up. If not Erafros, it was someone that was in that tent yesterday. A certain image of a black-haired giant crossed his mind, but he dismissed it. There was no time to dwell on such unnecessary things.
The black ghoul lurched forward and, with an iron grasp, plucked a single skeleton from the horde of undead that had gotten less and less over the hour. A yellowish hue blanketed its brittle frame, which ended at Prometheus' midsection. Its empty eye sockets gazed up at him as the creature writhed and twisted in his grasp, desperate to return to the pointless task of storming the wall that would never break.
Prometheus shook his head before burying his talon-like nails deep into the creature's cranium with a sickening crunch.
You have killed 1x skeleton.
He had to get stronger and knew this was the only way. He didn't have the strength to storm the wall, nor did he know what the aftermath of said charge would be. Maybe he would be able to escape the tunnel, maybe he would not – he wasn't willing to take the chance.
Luckily, the necromancers had done something to him that made the legion think he was a part of it, as he wouldn't have been able to enter with it otherwise. And so, he began killing them, bludgeoning each creature with no resistance in return. Their faces bore either emptiness or hunger, but none offered any challenge. For each one slain, the boxes of blue core blossomed in his visions, toned down in the corner at his request. By his fifth kill, he achieved what he had been hoping for.
You have gained a level.
You are now level 3.
Prometheus scanned through the symbols and letters depicting each root until he found the one he was looking for.
You have chosen the Root of illusion.
Sleight of hand (Active): Redirect a target's focus.
Stolen story; please report.
Targets with a perception higher than the caster's mind attribute may not be affected by the skill.
Cost: 5 mana/cast
Discerning eye (Passive): See through visual deception and falsities.
The effect varies on the caster's mind and perception attributes.
Cost: N/A
Alter presence (Active): Decrease or increase your perceived presence.
The scope and effect vary upon the mind attribute of the caster. Targets with a higher perception attribute than the caster may see through the illusion.
Cost: 10 /cast. Additional cost: 1/mana second
The first one was simple enough, a trick to fool the eye. Hermes had been very good with this kind of thing – pulling grapes or rabbits out of his feathery straw cap at feasts had been seen as the peak of divine entertainment. Perhaps he even had the skill himself. Had.
The discerning eye was more abstract and hard to judge, while the alter presence skill was simply strange.
The black ghoul was stumped by the options. He thought over the implications of choosing a path. Once you choose a skill, the next crossroad will be influenced by the same skill. That means choosing the Sleight of hands, for example, would affect the next selection, giving him something in that area.
I really want that skill, though. Sleight of hands felt like a skill that would be ever useful in deception, trickery, and maybe even battle. Even if it didn't do anything right now, it was just perfect for him.
A sifting of the earth stirred his mind to the now, a slight tremor to the cavern floor. Something happened at the barricade, where the waves of undead had thinned and slowed in their pursuit of the top.
The figures atop the walls were nowhere to be seen. And what Prometheus had thought were walls of rock were, in fact, not walls at all but big, lumpy things that now began moving, their arms and legs consisting of interlocking boulders. They had been standing still to serve as protection for the defenders, blending into their surroundings—but now they stirred, revealing gemstone eyes that sparkled with mesmerizing colors.
One of the titanic creatures stood up from the ground, casting aside undead as if they were sprawling playthings while its kin reformed the barricade, and began to trudge. But slow steps became faster and faster, and soon the mass of rock would be the entrance to the cavern.
Prometheus felt his black heart thumping. He calculated his chances of outrunning the creature if he chose to make a run for it, but in the end, he knew they were slim. Instead, he ran for the corner of the cavern trying to stay covert and unnoticed.
Thinking quickly, he chose the alter presence skill and invested another path point in the Root, unlocking the next crossroad further along the root system.
Alter sensory information (Active): Alter perceived sensory information.
The scope and effect vary upon the mind attribute of the caster.
Targets with a higher perception attribute than caster’s mind attirbute may see through the optical illusion.
Cost: 20 mana/cast. Additional cost: 1 mana/s]
Alter emotion (Active): Alter the emotion of a target.
The scope and effect vary upon the mind attribute of the caster.
Targets with a resistance higher than the caster's mind attribute may not be affected by the skill.
Cost: 20 mana/cast. Additional cost: 1 mana/s]
Alter dream (Active): Alter dreams of a sleeping target.
Scope and effect vary upon the caster's mind attribute.
Targets with a resistance higher than the caster's mind attribute may not be affected by the skill.
Cost: 20 mana/cast. Additional cost: 1 mana/s]
The options were incredible, but he chose the first one without hesitation. This was what he needed right now.
As he came halfway, the hulking figure stepped forward and jammed its meaty fist into the tunnel entrance, sealing it off with a loud thump. The air filled with the sound of stones and rocks rearranging themselves as if by some unseen force, and moments later, the mouth of the tunnel had been replaced with an unyielding wall.
The scattered creatures of corpse magic were no match for the dark figures that appeared in their wake - stout, cloaked men with flowing beards of red and black, carrying axes and hammers, and bizarre two-legged canines accompanied by the pint-sized, fire-wielding children. Together they formed an unstoppable force, decimating the hordes of undead that remained standing.
Prometheus found a narrow crack in the rock at the far end of the cavern, his heart thumping wildly. He willed the [alter sensory information] skill to activate, and imagined the shape of the wall around him and that he was, in fact, a piece of this wall, and him being just another protrusion of many. His skin took on a jagged, gray hue, and as the defenders began to hunt down the stragglers, he activated his [Alter presence] to make himself very, very small.