Heather relayed what Devlina said and how she needed grave moss. Frank and Quinny laughed to think of how much they could easily get at home. They agreed that making the trip home was too long and decided to find the graveyard. They followed Devlina's directions and walked down an empty road surrounded by tall pines and rocky fields.
“She said it was haunted?” Frank asked.
“That's what she said,” Heather replied. “She is hoping the ghost won't bother you or Quinny.”
“It probably won't,” Frank agreed. “We should be able to walk right in and collect the moss.”
“How much did she need?” Quinny asked.
Heather held up the small jar Devlina had given them and answered. “About this much.”
“That shop was amazing,” Grettah said. “There were ingredients for alchemy, herbalism, enchanting, rune crafting, everything!”
“Now I want to see it,” Quinny said.
“You probably could,” Heather said. “She knew you two were there and wasn't alarmed. It's why she made a deal with us in the first place.”
“She could be keeping us busy while she alerts the guard and has them waiting for us when we get back,” Frank suggested.
“Always have to see a lie or deception?” Heather said with a shake of her head.
“You said that when the adventurers came to the graveyard and stole your book,” He said. “And you said that when I told you, Moon couldn't be trusted.”
Heather sighed. “I know, but I want to believe that there are more people who can be trusted than not.”
“Ha, they all lie,” Quinny said.
Heather shook her head at them both and walked on carrying her basket and scythe. She put the jar inside and looked ahead as the road climbed into a narrow canyon.
“She said it was just past the canyon on the right.”
Frank scratched at his head as he walked.
“I don’t remember reading anything about graveyards and them being destroyed,” he said.
“Devlina said players used to respawn in them,” Heather replied.
“But why do I know nothing about it?” he asked.
“It happened before you came in,” Heather answered.
Frank shook his head. “I was reading news about New Eden every day for years as I waited to be old enough to come in. If something this major had happened, I would have read about it.”
They were all silent a long moment, and then Heather looked to Quinny.
“I don’t know anything about it either,” Quinny said. “He’s right, something that big should have been all over the news. There are entire website and video channels dedicated to New Eden.”
“I have never even heard of the necromancer kings,” Frank said. “Or that there was ever a player war. I read about large scale player conflicts, but never a war that resulted in the land being scared and an entire class purged.”
“That should have been on every news channel,” Quinny said. “It’s hard to believe any of this is true.”
Heather considered their points a moment and brought up a counterpoint.
“We didn't trust Moon to be telling us the truth, but now a second player has told us the Necromancers, and King Kevin fought. So we can assume that part of the story is true.”
“It must be,” Frank agreed.
“Then there is a good chance the rest of it is,” Heather insisted.
“But how did none of this get to the outside world?” Frank asked. “The collection stations all have a monitoring terminal. Dozens of them are relayed to the internet now. People data mine that information all day and night. It would take the willing consent of tens of thousands of people working together to keep this a secret.”
“Maybe it never went to the panels,” Quinny said.
“The panels report everything from the local weather to grass growth,” Frank said.
“I didn’t know necromancers were banned,” Quinny said. “Not until I got here.”
“And the counseling program you have to go through to get in never mentioned it,” Grettah added.
“Only America and some of Europe force you to take counseling before going in,” Frank said.
“My point was, I went through it, and it was never brought up,” she stated. “You would think they would have warned me that necromancers were banned and hunted.”
Frank scratched at his head and looked around as he thought about it. “A class of players finds an exploit that permanently kills players. A war is then fought to wipe them out, and ban their class, while also stripping the land of graveyards.” He paused to shake head. “How could that have gone unnoticed?”
None of them could answer the question as they walked through the canyon.
As the canyon leveled out, it opened into a wide flat area along the slope of a mountain. The trees to the right were dense, and just down the road, they could see an iron fence.
“That's it!” Heather said, excitedly.
“It isn’t very big,” Frank said as they approached.
“Maybe it didn’t have to be,” Heather suggested. “If these were only meant to be convenient spawn points for players.”
“So, if we had died in that cave, would we have respawned here?” Grettah asked.
Again none of them could answer the question as they approached the dark bars of the fence.
“It has ten gravestones,” Frank said. “No wonder she only wanted a little moss, there won’t be much to collect.”
“I see plenty on the stones,” Heather said.
Frank shrugged and looked around from the entrance. “So, where is the ghost?”
“Technically, she said it was haunted,” Grettah said. “She never said it was a ghost.”
“What else haunts a place like this?” Quinny asked.
“What are you four doing?” A woman called from their left. They turned to see a woman with long black hair and pointed ears. She had piercing green eyes and sharp features, with rose-red lips over pale, delicate skin. She had a circlet of gold on her head and wore a robe of dark blues trimmed with silver weaves and runes. She stood six feet tall and carried no weapons or armor that they could see.
“That’s an elf of some kind,” Quinny said.
“Probably one of the highborn ones,” Frank said.
“I was thinking about playing a highborn elf,” Grettah added.
“I asked you what you four were doing!” the woman stated firmly with intense eyes.
“We're going into the graveyard to gather moss,” Heather said. “We need it for some potions.”
“That graveyard is protected,” the elven woman said. “You will find it’s guardian formidable.”
“Yeah, we were already told it was haunted,” Quinny laughed. “But ghosts and zombies get along well.”
The elven woman frowned and put her hands on her hips. “The graveyard is for the dead.”
“That would be us,” Frank replied as he headed into the gate.
“You’re not afraid at all?”
Frank paused and held out his long rubbery arms and spread his clawed fingers. “Which is worse, the ghost or me?”
The woman made a face like she smelled something foul. She shook her head and let out a deep sigh. “This graveyard is mine,” she said. “There isn't enough room to share it with more undead.”
Heather looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “What do you mean more undead?”
The woman suddenly looked sad and paced in the road. “I am undead,” she said. “And this pathetic little graveyard is my home.”
“You don’t look undead,” Quinny laughed.
“Oh, don't I?” the woman snapped and threw out her hands.
They watched in awe as her form faded to a ghostly white, and her eyes became sunken red holes. Her outfit was suddenly a patchwork of tatters and rags that flapped as in a breeze. A black haze surrounded her form as she lifted into the air floating a few feet from the ground.
“Is this undead enough for you?” the woman said in a thin haunting voice.
“Wow!” Quinny said. “I want to play that!”
Heather stumbled back a step at the sudden transformation.
“What are you?” Heather stammered.
“I am a banshee!” the woman hissed. “And this is my graveyard! You undead will have to find your own!”
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Frank glanced at Quinny and then looked back to the ghostly woman. “Fine, my graveyard is ten times this size easily.”
“More like twenty,” Quinny said. “And you have mausoleums and tunnels. This place doesn’t even have a decent tombstone.”
“You… You have a graveyard?” the woman stammered.
“I am a grave dancer,” Frank said. “I can build my own.”
The ghostly woman folded her hands together and drifted back to the ground. In a moment, color returned to her skin and reformed as the elven woman.
“So, you're not here to live in the graveyard?”
“No,” Frank said. “We just want some grave moss.”
“Heather listened to the exchange and took note of the sad expression on the woman’s face.
“You live in this tiny graveyard?” Heather asked.
The woman nodded.
“Why?
“I don't have a choice,” the woman said sadly. “My class requires I anchor myself to a graveyard to respawn, and this is the only graveyard I have ever been able to find.”
“There are graveyards in the cities,” Frank said.
“Those are consecrated,” she replied. “You can’t haunt a consecrated area.”
“So, you have to have an existing graveyard to establish a spawn point?” Heather asked.
“I do,” the elven woman said. “It’s one of the limitations of my race.”
Heather realized that since the graveyards were destroyed, this woman was essentially trapped here. She was stuck in a tiny graveyard deep in the remote hills of an isolated kingdom. There was only one good choice to make given the situation, so she turned to Frank.
“Can she live in our graveyard?” she asked.
Frank looked at her and made her cringe as he blinked an eye. “What?”
“We can’t leave her here,” Heather said. “Look how small this place is. I would go crazy being stuck with nothing but this for even a week.”
Frank looked at her and then turned to the ghostly woman. “We are building a project together. It includes a large graveyard, a small graveyard, and a haunted forest. If you want, you can anchor to one of our graveyards.”
“You would let me lair with you?” she asked, tipping her head.
“If you want,” Frank replied. “It’s about two days away.”
The woman went silent as she thought about it, and Heather decided to press the point home.
“You can't stay in this dismal place. Come with us, and you can help build our graveyard into something bigger and better.”
“I can only establish a lair. I do not have a building class,” the woman said.
“What class are you?” Heather asked.
“A shadow weaver, as my prime class, and attuned as my mundane class,” the elven woman said.
“I have no idea what those are,” Heather replied.
“A shadow weaver is a spellcasting class that uses dark magic,” Frank said.
“You know, for somebody who didn't want to play spellcasting classes, you know a lot about them,” Heather argued.
“I had to wait three years to get in,” he replied. “You read a lot about a lot of things when you have to wait so long.”
Heather dismissed his explanation and turned back to the woman. “If you can't build anything but a lair, then at least lair with us. You will have a lot more room to haunt.”
The woman folded her arms and gave them an almost regal-looking stare. “And you want nothing from me?”
“We want the grave moss you have here,” Heather said.
The woman let out a sigh and stood tall and noble.
“I am Breanne,” she said in a firm tone.
“I'm Heather,” she replied, gesturing to herself. “This is Frank, Quinny, and Grettah.”
“So two monster players working with to hero players?”
Heather looked at Frank, who sighed.
“She is the last person to be shocked by what you are,” he said. “Go ahead and tell her.”
Breanne fixed her gaze on Heather with searching eyes. Heather felt like she was somehow reading her like a book.
“I am a necromancer,” Heather said.
Breanne's eyes twitched for just a moment, and she shifted her feet but otherwise betrayed no reaction.
“Necromancers are banned,” she said.
“So I have been told,” Heather said. “I didn’t play one intentionally.”
“What do you mean you didn’t play one intentionally?” Breanne asked.
Heather recounted the story of her arrival to which Breanne gasped.
“You’re a chosen!”
“I am,” Heather said.
“A chosen necromancer,” Breanne added as she began to pace.
Heather went on and told her about Moon and the subsequent accidental level that trapped her in her class.
“So this, Moon, told you about the necromancer kings?”
“She told us they found a way to turn players into undead,” Heather said.
Breanne laughed. “They did more than that,” she said.
“You know more about it?” Heather asked.
“Ha,” Breanne said with a firm smile. “I was helping them do it. All the undead players were.”
Heather with wide-eyed and looked around at the others. None of them had anything to offer, so she pressed Breanne.
“What were they doing?”
“I don't know what their plans were in detail. They were after something to do with respawn. They found a way to delay it so that a slain player might take a full day to come back. They were working on a larger plan, but they had a complication.”
“What was it?”
“The other players,” Breanne said. “Hero players kept wiping out whatever the necromancers built. So the necromancers all moved and established their own kingdom in the east. This was fine for a while, and most of the undead players moved there.”
“I can't imagine a whole kingdom of the undead,” Grettah said.
“It wasn't all that different than any other place. Most of the necromancers built normal towers or castles. A few committed to the doom castle look, with black walls and skulls, but most would look at home in any city.”
“So, what happened?” Heather asked.
“I don't know for sure. The Necromancers were all working on one project, combining their power to achieve something. We haunting players were asked to haunt the graveyards all around their lands. We were a sort of early warning for intruders.”
“So, there really were a lot more graveyards.”
Breanne nodded. “There were thousands of them. Most undead players who require a place to haunt need a graveyard or a ruin of some kind. I was in a slightly larger yard inside a forest just over the borders of the kingdom. It was a wonderful time until the breaking.”
Heather looked at the others who once again know nothing about it.
Breanne studied their reactions and paused in her story.
“None of you know what the breaking is?”
Heather shook her head.
“The necromancers broke the undead barrier. Normally when a player dies, and you animate it as undead, it's not the player anymore. It's just another NPC, and the player respawns naturally. They found a way to force the player back into the body. So long as the player was still in the buffer, it could be brought back as undead, and once undead, it stayed undead.”
“Just like Moon said,” Heather added.
Breanne modded and moved on. “This drove the hero players insane. Hero players began raiding undead areas in large numbers, intentionally breaking any spawning points they could find.
The necromancers issued a firm warning that if the raids continued, they would retaliate. The hero players laughed and formed into a guild dedicated to punishing the necromancers. They made one proper raid but ran into an organized force lead by the necromancers themselves. The hero players were annihilated, and all of them were turned into undead.
This got the attention of the dozen or so kings and queens that had nearby kingdoms. They threatened all-out war on the necromancers, and he necromancers retaliated by sweeping into towns and villages to convert every player they could reach. They were trying to raise an army that could keep their lands safe.”
“Moon said they wanted to turn the whole server undead,” Heather added.
“As far as I know, that was not the original objective,” Breanne said. “It certainly was in the end. Nobody at my level knew for sure what the necromancers were doing. Once the large battles started, they went into a panic. The paladins and holy clerics can consecrate things. They discovered that this disrupted whatever the necromancers did. If they consecrated a graveyard, no undead player could use it. If they consecrated a body, it couldn't be made undead. They began to consecrate everything they could, but this backfired on them terribly.”
“How so?” Frank asked.
“They began to fight with people who were forced to become undead. When slain, they would consecrate the bodies, and then the player wouldn't respawn.”
“Permanent death?” Quinny asked.
Breanne shrugged. “Nobody knows. Maybe the necromancers did, but I never learned of it. All I know is the necromancers started work on a huge project. They were working spells that caused the sky to turn purple and swirl over their towers. They found a way to break consecration on the graveyards and somehow linked them so undead could travel between them. They used this to launch massive attacks behind King Kevin's lines. He was so enraged he ordered the graveyards destroyed. Players like myself who need them suddenly had no way to set a lair.”
“Why didn’t the necromancers go into the cities and tear them down?” Frank asked.
“They were consecrated,” she said.
“But you just told us they found a way to break that,” Frank pressed.
Breanne shook her head. “I am not sure. I think a necromancer had to get to the graveyard first. They had to do some ritual there to break the consecration and then set up the magical link. There was also a limit to the range. You could only travel to graveyards within ten miles of each other.
“That’s why he destroyed them all,” Heather said. “And probably so they couldn’t use spells to summon skeletons and such.”
“Exactly,” Breanne said. “King Kevin launched a scorched earth campaign and burned everything in his path. He finally fought his way to a hold ruled by a powerful death knight. He stood with his dragon at his side against the death knight and his forces. They charged one another, and the two fought to a standstill.”
Heather was spellbound by the story, and nobody moved for fear of missing a detail.
“Kevin had his paladins, but the death knight had dozens of other death knights. Shadow weavers like myself countered Their wizards. Classes of every kind were on both sides, lashing out at one another.”
“How did it end?” Frank asked.
“The necromancer kings showed up and turned the tide, slaying the dragon and nearly Kevin. He was rescued by a wizard who ported him away. The necromancer kings then turned on the dragon and brought her back as a zombie dragon. They used her to guard the gates of their final city.”
“This story is sad,” Grettah said.
Breanne nodded and started to pace.
“Kevin flew into a rage when she didn't respawn. He ordered every player in every kingdom massed as one final army to wipe the necromancers out. When that army came, it vastly outnumbered us. They cut through us, consecrating everything to prevent respawns from joining in. They destroyed graveyards and respawn stones as they went. Whenever they fought a necromancer, they bound them and dragged them off, but the saddest moments came at the gate of the city.”
Heather felt her stomach turning and chewed on her lip as Breanne continued.
“Kevin met his dragon at the gates. She pleaded with him to forgive her even as she tried to kill him. Eventually, he had to slay her himself and then ordered her consecrated, thus ensuring she would never respawn.”
“How awful,” Heather gasped as she covered her mouth.
“Wait a minute,” Quinny said. “She can’t have been a player. Players can’t be dragons or giants, or anything big.”
Breanne shook her head. “I would have bet my soul that she was.”
“Why did you go along with all of this?” Grettah asked.
“I didn't go along with it,” Breanne said. “I moved away from the hero players to find peace, but they followed us. They refused to let the undead have a land of their own and kept mounting raids in and burning our towns. We all assumed the necromancers were trying to turn them to undead to make them stop. If everybody was undead, they would have no reason to discriminate.”
“I actually see the logic of that,” Frank said.
“How did none of these details make the news?” Quinny interrupted again. “This was a major thing, and we knew almost nothing about it.”
“None of this is known to the real world?” Breanne asked.
Frank shook his head. “We knew that an undead kingdom formed and then broke up a little while later. None of us know why it broke up, they never reported on it.”
“How strange,” Breanne said.
“So, all of this turmoil was caused by players tormenting other players?” Heather said. “It's the same problem only on a massive scale.”
“Players are competitive,” Frank said.
“It's pointless, though,” Heather said. “What do you gain by ruining things for others?”
“They aren't ruining the game. They are playing it. A lot of people respect those who climb to the top.”
“Who would respect somebody if the power and status they have is gained by abusing others? Don't we call people like that monsters in the real world?”
“It's just how some gamers are,” he replied. “Most online games pit players against one another. Even in RPGs, there are usually kingdoms pitted against kingdoms. Players are always encouraged to war on one another.”
“Why?” Heather pressed.
Frank shrugged. “To give them something to do.”
Heather sighed and let it go. This path of reasoning was making her angry and reviving her desire to be out of this world. She turned to Breanne and spoke.
“
You are welcome to join our graveyard,” Heather said. “It's much bigger, and you will have somebody to talk with. Oh, and adventurers sometimes come in, and we let them level up on the skeletons.”
Breanne nodded. “I would be delighted to have something better than this.”
Heather smiled and leaned on her scythe. “Then I have one final question for you.”
Breanne looked confused for a moment.
“And what is that?”
“Do you like pizza?”