“Everywhere you look, there is life. The beasts of the land, or the fauna of forests. Most interesting to me however, is the life which resides in the little people of the cities.” The man’s bones groaned as he stepped towards me.

“You don’t think yourself human, no wonder you’re being hunted. That rhetoric will get you killed, old man.” I unsheathed my sword.

“I think you’ll find that rather difficult, young Hunter!”

The being straighten its back, causing a series of violent cracks to emanate. It’s desolate rags fell away to reveal its looming eight foot stature. It’s skin was too tight around the bones, the eyes sunken in, glowing white. I could see it’s heart, beating so slowly under its sickly ribcage. The thing was reaching for me, one of its skeletal arms outstretched.

“exorior carsus mortuus!” No words came from its mouth, nevertheless I heard the spell resound through my mind

I did not waver, I stood my ground a raised my sword with both hands clasped around the hilt. I expected something to happen, for some human spectre to appear before me to fight. I made the mistake of thinking the being a fool. I heard the wind shift behind me but I was too late.

A collection of bones bound together by spell craft pierced through my left arm. The shape of it resembled a tendril and this is where my thoughts stood still. There was a splitting sensation, pain unimaginable. I could have screamed, except I didn’t understand what I was looking at.

My own arm was lying on the flowery field. Blood dripped from my open wound and soaked the ground. I was still holding my sword in the other hand, but my entire body was trembling.

“deus astrum auxilium sano,” I whispered the words and clenched my teeth over a piece of my garment.

There was light dancing in between my fingers. It was a pure thing, a holy light from above. I touched it it to the place my arm had been severed and felt it sear against my skin. It felt as though an iron brand was pushing deeper into my skin. As much as I tried to keep it in, sooner or later my mind disobeyed. I let out a guttural scream and doubled over. I breathed once, twice, and came back to my senses on the third. The wound was closed now, no more blood was coming out.

I heard the ground moving under me and rolled to the side and used my intact arm to stand. Where I was lying a moment ago, the ground shifted apart to reveal several of the tendrils. One of them had caught me off guard and lost me a limb, how might I fair against half a dozen?

“This field was once the standing ground of a mighty tribe of canus ligula, better known as silver-tongued wolves. A creature with a tentacle-like tongue which could wrap around their victims to pull them into their maw. Do you know what happened to them?”

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“You’ve brought them back?” I asked in a rage. I felt a fierce stabbing pain where my arm used to be.

“After you filthy humans killed them, for merely being in your way. Why not give them one last chance for vengeance!”

The creature’s hand thrust in my direction making the tendrils writhe towards me. More of them started to surface, I knew what needed to be done.

I parried and rolled, trying to reach. decent vantage point. There were far too many bone tendrils to hope for a victory. This thing, this Necromancer was far beyond anything I’d ever seen. Fighting an Adept was one thing, this creature was on a plane of its own. Perhaps it wasn’t human, too far gone to recognise humanity when it lived so long in this state.

“They’re one of the only animals with boned tongues, and what did the humans do to them? They cut them off, every last one!” The tone was pure venom.

“I think I ought to talk a class about them…” I concentrated on creating enough space between myself and the tongues.

“Die, now. Pathetic little hunter. It’s what you humans do best.”

The creatures momentarily halted while he was speaking. I saw my opportunity. I planted my sword in the ground, digging it deep into the soil beneath me. I really liked this sword, never thought I’d have to take such drastic measures until I found my final prize…

“denique terra cindo!” This might have been my final stand, but I would not die without putting up a fight.

The sword vibrated under my grip. The hilt was the first to turn the sickly shade of grey. Cracks begin to appear down the blade, spreading onto the soil around the sword. I dropped to my knees and held of the soil in my hand. This place would be ruined, changed completely once this process was complete.

The tendrils close to me, about to tear the rest of me apart began to slow first. I was glad that it worked, and that I would stay alive, but only for a moment.

How many times would I be able to get away with this? How much longer would I last before my sins came to haunt me?

I let the soil sift through my fingers and drew myself up once more. The scene was not so perilous now. The sword I planted was now nothing more than stone rubble, while the cracks continued to spread out further into the field beyond. The bone tendrils stopped as the spell crept into their design. Their structure was being changed, as if they always been made of stone. The flowers which might have bloomed once every year, were turning to black. Slowly, they all began to wilt, never to grow again. The soil itself was changed to stone rubble, the entire area around where I stood was now corrupted. Nothing new would grow here for decades to come.

I turned away. Like all the other times, I could not bare to watch this. This field was once a graveyard, now it was the site of another massacre. The land itself was dead, from the spell craft I enchanted into my weapon.

I looked around for any sign of The Necromancer. There was only residuals of his magic. The creature would be out there, licking its wounds. I presumed it was caught by my spell. Not very fast, but very old and powerful. Not many creatures survived so long without knowing when to retreat.

Now that I wasn’t facing my mortality, the pain in my arm began to flare. There was a long walk ahead of me, back to the coast, where I might catch a carriage. I was empty-handed and without a hand. I would begin my search anew, for my revenge.