Alley quickly gathered her things, her eyes meeting Runner's with a silent agreement. They had work to do. The two of them made their way to the area marked with an X on the crude map Zavet had left behind. The journey was tense, filled with the distant sounds of the camp waking up and the occasional groan of the undead still wandering the ruins.
When they arrived at the marked location, they found Zavet hard at work. He was a whirlwind of activity, clearing the roads and killing any undead that crossed his path. His strength was evident in every move—he picked up large slabs of stone wall as if they were nothing, throwing them aside quickly to make the path clear.
Runner called out to him as they approached, "Hey, Zavet! They’re going to give you a team of people. They just want you to mark where the survivors or bodies are, and we’ll handle the digging."
Zavet paused in his work, turning to face Runner with a nod of approval. "I like that. That would be great," he replied, his voice calm but filled with determination.
Alley waved at Zavet, flashing him a reassuring smile. "I’ll go get the team. Oh, and Runner, can you gather some sticks and cloth from the fallen houses around here? Just don’t take too much—the people who lived here will still want their things once we rebuild."
Runner nodded, watching her as she turned to leave. He admired how she took charge, her confidence a steadying force in the chaos. As she disappeared into the distance, Runner set to work, carefully gathering what he needed without disturbing too much of the ruins. The streets were filled with remnants of lives interrupted, and he knew how important it was to respect that.
Alley made her way to Merlot’s tent, her pace quick but controlled. As she arrived, she saw Merlot stepping out, dressed plainly in trousers and a tunic. Nothing on him indicated his noble status; in fact, he looked like just another member of the camp, which was a deliberate choice. Two members of Razlond accompanied him, both similarly dressed in plain clothes, with only short swords and small bucklers hooked to their waistbands. Sir Ulrich, an imposing figure even in simple attire, was also with them.
Alley greeted them with a nod. "We’re going to need to be cautious out there," she began, her tone serious. "With the new threat of these prisoners, we’re going by different names. So, think of new names, and don’t reference anyone as a noble. We don’t want any added difficulties."
Merlot and the others exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable but clearly understanding the necessity of the precaution. The gravity of the situation had everyone on edge, and Alley’s directive was a sharp reminder that they were in a warzone where any mistake could be deadly.
Merlot was the first to speak, a thoughtful look on his face. "Understood. You can call me Clive."
With the team assembled Alley led them back toward the area where Zavet and Runner were working. The tension was palpable as they approached, each group member preparing themselves mentally for the task ahead. They moved with purpose, their steps careful but determined. The morning sun cast long shadows over the ruins, a stark reminder of the destruction that had taken place.
Zavet was still hard at work when they arrived, his focus unwavering. Runner had just finished gathering Alley's requested materials and was busy setting them aside, ready for whatever came next. He looked up as the group approached, giving them a quick nod of acknowledgment.
Alley stepped forward, addressing the group with quiet authority. "We’ve got our team. We’re the Wraiths now, and our job is to find survivors, clear the area, and deal with any undead that remain. Zavet will lead the way; he knows this area best."
Zavet gave a curt nod, grateful for the support but more focused on the task. "We’ll start by marking the locations of any survivors or bodies. Once we’ve done that, we’ll clear the area and make it safe."
The team got to work, and their movements were synchronized and efficient. Zavet led them through the ruined streets, marking locations as he went. Alley and Runner followed close behind, gathering what they could to help with the rebuilding effort. The Razlond members and Sir Ulrich moved with precision, their swords and bucklers ready to strike down any undead that dared to approach.
As they worked, the atmosphere grew more focused. They were a unit now, bound by the same mission and the same determination to see it through. The ruins of the Razlond district loomed around them, a stark reminder of the devastation that had been wrought but also a testament to the resilience of those who remained.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Hours passed as they combed through the district, their efforts yielding bodies to be laid to rest and survivors who had miraculously endured the chaos. Each discovery was met with the same level of care and respect, the team working silently, understanding the gravity of their task.
Finally, as the sun descended in the sky, Alley called a halt. "That’s enough for today," she said, her voice weary but satisfied. "We’ve done good work. Let’s head back and regroup."
The group nodded in agreement, their exhaustion evident but tempered by the knowledge that they had made a difference. The shadows of the ruins loomed around them as they began the trek back to camp. The air was heavy with the lingering scent of decay, but the thought of returning to camp for some rest kept them moving forward.
Suddenly, the relative calm shattered as a swift stream of spells flew out from the ruins. The first bolts of magical energy struck Runner and Zavet with alarming precision, sending Runner sprawling to the ground, his body seized by a paralyzing force. Zavet, however, barely flinched as the spells washed over him. His unique nature, a product of necromantic magic, rendered him immune to the effects of the sleep and paralysis spells the attackers had foolishly chosen to use against him.
Before the group could react, three cloaked figures emerged from the shadows, their weapons drawn, and charged at Sir Ulrich. However, they quickly learned why Sir Ulrich was a knight of the White Orchid, one of the most elite orders in the kingdom. His sword moved with blinding speed, deflecting their attacks with the ease of a seasoned warrior. His expression remained calm and focused; he was no easy prey.
At the front of the group, three other attackers lunged for Alley, their intentions clear as they tried to overwhelm her. But Zavet, having shrugged off the ineffective spells, moved with a speed that belied his massive frame. As the cloaked figures rushed past him, expecting him to be paralyzed, Zavet’s tail lashed out like a whip. It coiled around the leg of one of the attackers, pulling him off his feet with a forceful yank. The cloaked figure crashed to the ground with a muffled cry, his hood falling back to reveal a ghastly, undead visage.
Zavet wasted no time. He recalled a spell Tear had taught him during their brief time together that could bring an enemy to their knees. Zavet’s eyes glowed with a cold light as he muttered the incantation, “I call upon necromancy to inflict your bones with rot.”
The spell took hold instantly. The undead attacker’s bones began to deteriorate, becoming brittle and fragile. The once fearsome creature let out a pained groan as Zavet delivered a series of swift, brutal blows, breaking its arms and legs, ensuring it could not escape or attack again.
Meanwhile, Alley was holding her ground, her sword flashing as she parried and dodged the strikes from her attackers. She knew she only needed to hold out long enough for help to arrive. Her concentration was fierce, her movements fluid as she matched their aggression with a disciplined defense.
Merlot, witnessing Alley’s predicament, sprang into action. He fought off two of the attackers with the skill of a seasoned warrior, his sword slicing through the air with deadly precision. The attackers were relentless, but Merlot’s calm determination prevailed. With a final, powerful strike, he downed both of them, their bodies crumpling to the ground in a heap.
Sir Ulrich, who had been fending off the trio of attackers aimed at him, proved why he was a knight of the White Orchid. His movements were a blur, his sword an extension of his will. He cut down his attackers ruthlessly, their undead forms collapsing under the weight of his blows. With the three who had targeted him defeated, he turned his attention to the others, quickly finishing the last two.
As the dust settled, Alley hurried over to Runner, who was still paralyzed. She knelt beside him, touching his chest and muttering a soft incantation. A warm, golden light spread from her fingertips, dispelling the paralysis that held Runner in its grip. He gasped as sensation returned to his limbs, his eyes filled with gratitude.
Merlot and Ulrich, meanwhile, were inspecting the bodies of the fallen attackers. They pulled back the hoods of the cloaked figures, revealing two low-ranking members of Solond and four unknown individuals. The sight of the Solond members made Merlot’s brow furrow in recognition.
“It’s two Solond members,” Merlot said grimly, his voice carrying a weight of sorrow. “Krunk is the orc. He’s also a knight of a non-kingdom order of orcs. And the halfling is known as Solo, one of Solond’s scouts. The undead must have killed them, but they’ve been raised again as these... abominations.”
Ulrich's face was set in a grim expression, and they studied the bodies closely. The wounds on them were fresh, but it was clear they had been killed some time ago, their flesh bearing the pallor of death. He turned to the group, his voice measured but serious. “These undead had orders. This wasn’t a random attack. It was an ambush, planned and executed with precision. Knowing my rank, they targeted me and used magic to incapacitate our front-line fighters. Then they went after Alley, the only healer we have here. This was too organized to be the work of mindless undead. There’s something or someone nearby with greater intelligence, possibly a more intelligent undead or a necromancer, orchestrating these attacks.”
The gravity of Ulrich’s words sank in, and the group exchanged uneasy glances. The idea that they were being hunted, not by mere monsters but by something with a mind and a strategy, chilled them to the bone.
Merlot nodded, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. “We need to be on guard. We can’t afford to let our guard down for a second if there's a greater threat out there.”
Having helped Runner to his feet, Alley looked around at the group, her expression resolute. “We’ll need to regroup and figure out our next move. But for now, let’s get back to camp.”