Chapter 6

Zavet wakes up, his mind foggy, unable to remember his journey as a spirit. The cold, stone floor beneath him feels unfamiliar. He looks around, taking in the dimly lit resurrection hall. Shadows dance on the walls, cast by the flickering torches. Before him stands a skeleton adorned with a crown, its eye sockets glowing with an eerie blue light. He immediately recognizes it as a lich.

"Hi," Zavet greets the lich, his voice echoing slightly in the vast chamber.

"Who has given you permission to use this resurrection hall?" the lich demands in a voice that carries a threatening undertone, clearly unafraid to use force if necessary.

"Talich, I think. I don't know. I have never seen this place. What is it?" Zavet stands and begins to walk around, his curiosity piqued by his strange surroundings.

Not satisfied with Zavet's response, the lich raises a bony hand and casts a paralyzing spell. However, the spell does not affect Zavet. The lizard man turns to face the lich.

"What was that?" Zavet asks, unfazed.

Frustrated, the lich attempts a more powerful necrotic spell. The dark energy surges toward Zavet, but instead of harming him, it heals him.

"Thanks, but I'm not hurt," Zavet replies, bemused by the lich's apparent attempts to aid him.

Anger flares in the lich's glowing eyes as he draws a golden sword and lunges at Zavet. The blade sinks into Zavet's scales, which does very little damage to him.

"Ok, wow. You must really want to heal me," Zavet remarks, still unbothered.

The lich pauses, his skeletal face astonished. Then, with a shrug, he attacks again. This time, Zavet uses his powerful tail to knock the sword from the lich's hand effortlessly.

"No, thank you," Zavet says, his tone almost playful.

The lich's eyes blaze with frustration as he prepares another spell, this one crackling with cold blue energy. The icy blast hits Zavet, burning like a healing spell would, causing parts of his body to frost over.

"Ouch! Why did you do that?" Zavet exclaims, jumping back, the frost shimmering on his scales.

As the lich prepares another icy spell, a commanding presence fills the hall. Mahnethotep strides in, his aura of authority instantly noticeable. The lich hesitates, his glowing eyes flicking to Mahnethotep.

Zavet's confusion quickly turns into mischievous energy as he leaps onto the lich, climbing its bony frame like a tree. The lich struggles under the unexpected assault.

"Play easy, Tear," Mah’nethotep chuckles, watching Zavet hanging onto the lich.

The lich, clearly exasperated, looks over to Mah’nethotep, his skeletal features showing a mix of fear and respect. "Uhh, Master Mah’nethotep. You bless the guild with your presence. We are not properly prepared for a visit from the master himself."

Mah’nethotep's imposing figure stands in the doorway, his eyes glowing with ancient wisdom and power. The lich quickly pushes Zavet off and begins to hurriedly tidy the hall, his movements frantic. "Stop it, lizard. Help me clean."

Zavet, still bewildered, shrugs. He watches Tear momentarily, trying to understand what "cleaning" entails. Mimicking the lich's movements, he grabs a nearby broom and begins to sweep, though his actions are clumsy and inefficient. He looks over at Tear, who is hastily organizing and dusting, and tries to mimic him, but the result is more chaos than cleanliness.

Mah’nethotep walks around the dimly lit hall, his eyes tracing the ancient hieroglyphs his people had inscribed centuries ago. He searches for any clue that might help unravel the mystery before them. "Zavet," he begins, his voice deep and thoughtful, "I fought a lizard man a lot like you—just a little smaller. He overpowered my hold on the lords of necromancy."

Tear, busying himself with the frantic cleaning, suddenly screams, "WHAT? Wait! NO. Master, come on, I am cleaning. You don't need to tease me, okay? I am sorry, but I will never let her resting place get this dirty again."

The bronze elf, Mah’nethotep, puts a finger to his lips, signaling Tear to quiet down. Teardrops his head and resumes cleaning with even more fervor.

"Zavet, what do you know of that lizard?" Mah’nethotep asks, his tone more serious now.

Zavet stops his clumsy attempts at sweeping and looks up. "Uhh, his name is Iscariot."

Mah’nethotep curses in an ancient, dead language. "Betrayer?... Zavet, how did you get your name?"

Zavet thinks for a moment, glancing around. "It was whispered to me as I transformed into what I am now. I just knew that was my name; why?"

Mah’nethotep sits down heavily, elbows on his knees, hands on his head. "Iscariot translates to Betrayer in my original language, and Zavet translates to Promise in the dragon's first language. I think she named both of you these names as a threat to me. She purposely put you both on a path that would cross me. I promised Wispein to save and bring her to my moon, but I never did."

Talich walks in from the resurrection hall, catching the end of the conversation. "Master, she knew it would cause all the other moons to fall," he says, a tear streaking down one side of his face, leaving a trail of greenish residue.

"I'm so sorry, Wispein," Mah’nethotep murmurs, staring upward, trying to keep his tears from falling. Talich's large bear-like figure places a reassuring hand on Mah’nethotep's slender back, his hand encompassing nearly the entire span.

Mah’nethotep takes a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. "We need to find a way to undo the damage. Zavet, your transformation and the name you carry may be the key to understanding how to proceed. If Iscariot overpowered my hold on the lords of necromancy, he might know something we don’t."

Talich, standing resolute beside Mah’nethotep, nods. "We must be cautious, Master. The balance of power is delicate, and any misstep could be catastrophic."

Mah’nethotep looks at Zavet with a newfound determination. "We need to learn more about your transformation, Zavet. And we need to understand why Wispein is doing this. Perhaps, through you, we can find a way to fulfill that old promise and prevent the moons from falling."

The lich, Tear, continues cleaning, but his movements are less frantic now as he senses the gravity of the situation.

Mah’nethotep rises with a heavy heart and determined steps, heading toward the hall where his wife is laid to rest. "I require a day or so to meditate and seek guidance," he announces, echoing through the ancient corridors. He turns to Tear and Talich, his gaze firm and commanding.

"Tear, the lizard needs a mentor. Teach him about the world, and ensure he learns to read and write. He must be prepared for the challenges ahead."

Tear, still feeling the weight of his earlier mistakes, nods solemnly. "Yes, Master Mah’nethotep. I will do as you ask."

Mah’nethotep then looks at Talich, his eyes softening slightly. "Talich, he will need a father figure. Guide him, protect him, and help him find his place among us."

The request momentarily takes aback Talich, but he feels a sense of purpose and duty swelling within him. He has already started to see the lizard man, Zavet, as a son. He steps forward, placing a large, reassuring hand on Zavet's shoulder. "I accept the challenge, Master. I will do my best to be the father figure he needs."

Zavet looks up at Talich, his eyes filled with curiosity and gratitude. Mah’nethotep gives a final nod of approval before disappearing into the hall's shadows, leading to his wife’s resting place.

Tear and Talich exchange a determined glance as the ancient doors close behind him. "Come on, Zavet," Tear says, his tone gentler. "Let's start with the basics. There's much for you to learn."

Talich smiles warmly at Zavet. "And I'll be here to help you every step of the way. You're not alone in this."

Tear constructs a classroom, and Talich makes a bed chamber for Zavet. While they are building inside the pyramid, he explores it.

The Necromantic Guild Hall, hidden deep within an ancient pyramid, exudes an eerie, foreboding atmosphere. As you step inside, the temperature drops noticeably, and the air feels thick with centuries of dark magic. Dimly lit by flickering torches ensconced in skull-shaped holders, the walls are adorned with intricate hieroglyphs and arcane symbols, some of which seem to move and shimmer in the torchlight.

The main hall is a vast, echoing chamber with a high, vaulted ceiling supported by massive stone pillars, each carved with depictions of necromancers performing dark rituals. At the center of the room, a large, circular stone dais is an altar stained with the remnants of countless sacrifices. Surrounding the dais are several ornate obsidian and gold chairs reserved for the guild's most powerful members.

To one side of the hall, a grand staircase descends into the pyramid's depths, leading to the crypts where the guild's ancestors and powerful undead creatures are entombed. On the opposite side, a series of arched doorways open into smaller chambers: laboratories filled with alchemical equipment, libraries housing forbidden tomes, and meditation rooms where necromancers commune with spirits.

The air is filled with the scent of incense and the faint, unsettling whisper of long-dead souls. Shadows seem to dance and twist with a life of their own, and an oppressive sense of ancient power pervades every corner of the guild hall. Here, the boundary between the living and the dead is thin, and the dark arts are practiced with reverence and fear.

While Tear and Talich busily construct a classroom and bed chamber within the ancient pyramid, Zavet roams its labyrinthine halls, eager to explore his surroundings. The pyramid is a vast, enigmatic structure filled with hidden chambers, secret passages, and relics from a bygone era. Each step he takes echoes through the dimly lit corridors, where the flickering torchlight casts long, eerie shadows on the walls adorned with hieroglyphs and ancient carvings.

As he wanders, Zavet encounters various rooms filled with arcane artifacts and mysterious objects. One chamber holds shelves with dusty scrolls and tomes; their spines cracked with age. Another room contains a collection of alchemical equipment, with strange liquids bubbling in glass vials and beakers. The scent of incense and old parchment fills the air, mingling with the musty smell of the pyramid’s ancient stone.

In one corner of the pyramid, Zavet finds a grand hall adorned with intricate murals depicting scenes of necromantic rituals and battles long past. The murals are vivid and almost lifelike, telling stories of the pyramid's history and the powerful necromancers who once ruled there. Zavet is particularly drawn to a mural showing a fierce battle between a dragon and a group of necromancers, the dragon’s scales shimmering with an otherworldly glow.

As he explores further, Zavet stumbles upon a hidden door partially concealed behind a tapestry. Curious and adventurous, he pushes the door open, revealing a narrow staircase descending into the darkness below. He hesitates momentarily, then decides to venture down, his claws clicking softly on the stone steps.

The staircase leads to an underground chamber, where the air is cool and damp. In the center of the room stands a large, ornate sarcophagus, its surface covered in intricate carvings and glowing runes. Zavet cautiously approaches it, feeling a strange pull as if something within the sarcophagus calls to him. He reaches out to touch one of the runes, and for a brief moment, he feels a surge of energy coursing through him.

The sarcophagus opens with a creaking groan, releasing a thick green fog that fills the chamber. Zavet recognizes it immediately as raw necrotic magic and takes a cautious step back. The heavy lid of the sarcophagus crashes to the ground, sending a reverberating echo through the crypt. From within, an ancient bronze elf mummy adorned with an array of bright-colored gems, falls forward in a lifeless heap.

Zavet, his curiosity piqued, cautiously approaches the mummy. He pokes it a few times, half-expecting it to react. When it remains motionless, he remembers the spell Talich had cast on the fairy when they first met. Taking a deep breath, he raises his hand and chants, “By the power of necromancy, I command you, spirit, serve my will.”

The air grows colder as the spell takes hold. A ghostly figure begins to crawl out of the mummy, materializing before Zavet. The apparition bears a striking resemblance to Mah’nethotep, with an aura of ancient power. The ghost gazes at Zavet with an exasperated look and sighs, “I told you lot to stop summoning me back. I do not care, nor do I know any magic I can teach you.”

Zavet, unfazed by the ghost’s irritation, smiles warmly. “Hi, I’m Zavet. Who are you?”

The ghost sighs again, a hint of weariness in his ethereal voice. “My name is Nakht. Get along with it. What questions do you have?”

Zavet’s smile broadens as he asks, “I don't know. Maybe, why are you and Mah’nethotep’s names so weird?”

Nakht raises an ethereal eyebrow, his form flickering slightly. “Weird? Our names are relics of ancient times, carrying the weight of our histories and the magic that shaped our lives. Mah’nethotep was a powerful necromancer whose name reflects his lineage and the legacy he sought to uphold. As for me, Nakht it means ‘strength’ in the old tongue. Our names are not weird; they mark who we are and where we come from.”

Zavet nods, intrigued by the explanation. “So, you were a necromancer too?”

Nakht shakes his head, his spectral form shimmering. “No, I was a blacksmith and also studied the art of war. My talents lay in forging weapons and armor imbued with magic, and my strategic mind was honed on the battlefield. I was a craftsman and a warrior, not a wielder of dark arts.”

Zavet's eyes widen with interest. “A blacksmith and a warrior? That sounds fascinating. What kind of weapons did you forge?”

Nakht’s ghostly eyes glimmer with a hint of pride. “I crafted weapons of unparalleled strength and resilience, each a masterpiece imbued with enchantments. Swords that could cut through steel, armor that could withstand the mightiest of blows, and shields that could repel the strongest of magics. My creations were sought after by kings and warriors alike.”

Zavet listens intently, captivated by Nakht’s tale. “And what about your knowledge of war?”

Nakht nods, his expression serious. “I studied the art of war as diligently as I did my craft. Strategy, tactics, and the ways of battle were my domains. I led armies to victory, not through brute force, but through cunning and skill. War is an art, and I was its master.”

Zavet let Nakht's ghost talk, telling him about the weapons he created and the wars he participated in.

Meanwhile, back in the upper chambers, Tear and Talich work diligently. Tear arranges desks and chairs in the newly constructed classroom, setting out books and scrolls for Zavet’s lessons. He writes a detailed lesson plan on a large chalkboard, preparing to teach Zavet about the world, its history, and the art of reading and writing.

Talich crafts a comfortable bed chamber for Zavet with his strength and care. He constructs a small rock cave, places soft furs and blankets, and arranges a small chest for Zavet’s belongings. He ensures the room is welcoming and cozy, where Zavet can rest and feel at home.

As the day progresses, Zavet returns from the underground chamber, his mind buzzing with questions and the mysteries he has uncovered. He finds Tear and Talich waiting for him; their work is complete.

Tear smiles, motioning to the classroom. “Welcome back, Zavet. I hope you’re ready to learn. We have much to cover.”

Talich places a hand on Zavet’s shoulder. “And you’ll have a resting place when you finish your lessons. Come, I’ll show you your new bed chamber.”

Zavet follows Talich eagerly to the tiny, cave-like chamber. Once inside, he’s overjoyed and quickly begins to explore, crawling in and out of the space with childlike glee. He even playfully grabs at Talich’s feet as if he's the monster under the bed.

Talich, smiling at Zavet's enthusiasm, pulls out the bone dagger he took from Iscariot. He studies it thoughtfully before deciding to give it to Zavet.

“Hey, I got something for you,” Talich says, holding out the dagger.

Zavet emerges from his playful exploration and looks at the dagger with curiosity. “Oh, what’s that?”

Talich hands it to him, his voice steady. “Iscariot was using it.”

Zavet examines the dagger, a hint of surprise in his eyes. “When I see him, I’ll give it to him.”

Talich shakes his head, his expression firm yet kind. “No, it’s yours now. I won it after you died. It’s mine to give you.”

Meanwhile, a week passes and a few of the kingdom's nobles meet at the council chamber in Razlond’s mountain stronghold, a stark contrast to the grand halls of the palace in Nuri’fon. Carved into the rock, the room has a somber, imposing atmosphere, illuminated by the flickering light of enchanted torches. The air is cool and filled with the scent of aged stone and incense.

At the head of a long, intricately carved stone table sat Merlot Nurison, his imposing figure commanding respect. The room was arranged with representatives from each barony: Queen Tiagha, Baroness Lina of Krimlond, and Baroness Lavender of Erenlond. Their presence was a testament to the gravity of the situation.

Merlot, his red dragon-emblazoned sword propped against the wall, leaned forward as he addressed the gathering. "Thank you all for coming to Razlond’s stronghold on such short notice. The fall of the capital to an unknown undead force has put us all in a precarious position. We must now decide on our next move."

Queen Tiagha, seated at the head of the table beside Merlot, spoke with her characteristic calm authority. "We have received troubling reports of a battle between two distinct undead factions within the city. One group appears to be led by a small undead lizardman, while the other seems to consist of an elf and a human. The elf was seen summoning seven powerful undead, but in the end, the lizardman seemed to overpower them and took control of the elf's undead. The capital’s situation is deteriorating rapidly. The lizardman seems to have the city under his control."

Baroness Lina nodded in agreement, her dark attire contrasting sharply with the stone surroundings. "While the elf and the human recuperate, we should launch an attack. So we can caul the hoard of undead."

Baroness Lavender's sharp and thoughtful gaze interjects with a hint of concern. “Didn’t a lizard man secure second place in the tournament right before the city was attacked? Have we interrogated him about his involvement?”

Lina, the Baroness of Krimlond, shakes her head, her expression grim. “No, we have not yet questioned the lizard man. However, we do have an individual who might provide insights into his identity. Please send for Runner; he might have the information we need.”

A servant, accompanied by a few guards, swiftly departs to retrieve Runner. Leaning back slightly in his seat, Merlot casts a curious glance at Lina. “I recall you mentioning during the feast that you had an informant within Ffair’fon. Was this during the uprising of the undead forces that began to surface a few months ago? You indicated that Runner witnessed a meeting involving all the Lords of Necromancy, correct?”

Lina nods affirmatively, her expression a mix of seriousness and concern. “Yes, Your Majesty. Runner was on a mission from his knight order at that time.”

Merlot consults a report in his hand, his eyes scanning the details. “It is noted here that Runner was the sole survivor to return from his mission and that he endured the horrors of Wispeineth.”

Lina adds, “Indeed. He was one of the child survivors who were eventually conscripted into the military and later inducted into the Morning Glory knight order.”

Just then, Runner enters the chambers, his posture straight and dignified. He bows deeply, adhering to the strict etiquette expected of his station.

Merlot greets him with a formal but warm tone. "Hello, Runner. We have recently learned that you may have some knowledge regarding the lizard man who participated in the tournament and who subsequently took Nuri’fon.”

Maintaining a respectful demeanor, Runner responds, "Your Majesty, while I am acquainted with a lizard man, I doubt he possesses the capability to orchestrate the capture of an entire city in the manner described."

The Queen, expressing genuine interest, addresses Runner with a kind smile. "You are the knight who defeated Lord Ivan so spectacularly. Your performance was truly thrilling. Do you believe there might have been more than one lizard man involved? Additionally, could you confirm if the lizard man in the tournament had black scales?"

Runner, unable to meet the Queen’s gaze directly, replies cautiously. "Yes, Your Majesty. The lizard man I encountered had black scales with orange markings around his eyes."

The Queen nods thoughtfully. "Please elaborate further. How did you come to know him? Did he mention if he belonged to a tribe? Was he affiliated with necromancy in any way?"

Runner recounts his experiences in detail, omitting that he and Talich had studied necromancy together. He describes the lizard man’s demeanor and the circumstances of their encounters, painting a picture of a formidable and enigmatic figure. The Lords and the Queen listen intently, their expressions a mix of intrigue and skepticism.

Merlot interjects, his eyes lighting up as if recalling a crucial detail. "Ah, he fought against Hoat," he says in a friendly, almost casual tone. "Could we have Hoat brought to the chambers, please?”

A servant, who has been waiting attentively, steps forward and calls for Hoat. The room soon feels the tension shift as Hoat enters, his posture confident and commanding. He bows deeply to the Queen and the assembled nobles, his presence exuding both respect and authority.

Merlot addresses Hoat with an inquiring tone. "Hoat, during your match with the lizard man, did you notice anything unusual or peculiar about him? Anything that might shed light on these recent events?"

Hoat, taking a moment to consider the question, responds with measured clarity. "Your Majesty, the lizard man was indeed a formidable opponent. While I did not observe anything overtly unusual about him, his resilience and combat prowess were remarkable. There was an air of mystery about him, and his ability to endure and adapt was noteworthy. If there were any hidden aspects to his nature or affiliations, they were well concealed during our fight."

Runner adds, "I can tell you he is very new to magic. He just started learning magic about a week or two ago. If you think that, I don't think he could create all those undead."

Merlot nods, "His magic was on the novice side. It was too far to tell what type of magic he was using. But what if he was playing both of you? Do you believe it was a coincidence that after Hoat bested him, the undead stormed the palace, forcing us to evacuate?”

One of the knights of the White Orchid steps forward. "My apologies, but I would like to say that while defending the queen and fighting off the undead, I saw the lizard man you were speaking of in the arms of a large human man. At the same time, I also saw the other lizard man who attacked the city walking through the streets. I don't believe they are the same person."

The lords listen to the knight without interrupting. The Queen looks to the knight and says, "Thank you for sharing." She puts her hand up, signaling the end of the discussion. "I would like the baronies to track down the lizard man. I believe his name was Zavet. Merlot, I would like you to gather as much information as possible on him. If he is not a threat, we can leave him alone. In the meantime, let us get our city back."

The room buzzes with a renewed sense of purpose as the Queen’s directive sets the wheels of action in motion. The knights and lords exchange glances, each silently acknowledging the tasks ahead.

Merlot’s sharp gaze shifted to a map of Nuri’fon spread across the table. “I got reports that Anyone who was turned Undead Did not resurrect. Elandor Silverleaf, can you shed some light on this type of magic.”

Runner looks at Hoat and whispers, “Who is that?” Hoat whispers back, “Elandor? He is the archmage of the kingdom.” Runner nods as he understands.

Elandor Silverleaf stands from one of the chairs behind the queen. He is a very old-looking elf. “In my 800 years, I have only encountered this while I was on the moon of undeath. This is common there. The undead would need to be killed so the people can resurrect. The issue is that the longer they stay undead, the more memories they gain from their host. The information they gain will be given to their creator.” Eleanor sits back down in his seat.

Merlot tilted his head, contemplating his next strategy. “We need to establish a temporary Resurrection Hall on the outskirts of the city,” he began, his voice steady and authoritative. “We will form specialized groups of five members: one healer, one defender, one scout, and two damage dealers. This composition will minimize our casualties and increase our efficiency in reclaiming the city. Our primary objective will be to retrieve our barony members first. Knights and soldiers are highly prioritized since their combat skills are crucial for our ongoing efforts. However, we must also prioritize carpenters and stonemasons; their expertise will be invaluable in reinforcing the areas we manage to reclaim.”

He placed miniature soldiers on the map, illustrating his plan. “We will initially enter the city from multiple locations, targeting areas with the least concentration of undead. Each group will clear their assigned districts and then converge back at the base camp,” he said, pointing to the city’s eastern side. “Once we have secured the barony keeps, we can set up the Resurrection Hall to further our efforts.”

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Elandor stood up, commanding the attention of the lords gathered around. “I believe we should summon the Gathering of the Heroic Souls after we have regained control of the keeps. This will bolster our forces with powerful heroes, giving us a significant advantage in reclaiming the city.”

The Queen thoughtfully interjected, “It has been long since we last summoned the Heroic Souls. While it could indeed provide us with formidable allies, we must remember that not all heroic souls are virtuous. Some could even be necromancers, and their intentions may not align with ours.”

Merlot nodded, considering her words carefully. “You are right, Your Majesty. We must weigh the benefits against the potential risks. But desperate times call for desperate measures. If we proceed with caution and vigilance, adding heroic souls could turn the tide in our favor.”

The room fell silent as the lords mulled over the plan, recognizing the gravity of the situation and the need for strategic brilliance to reclaim their beloved city.

The queen raises her hand, commanding attention with a regal presence. “Okay, lords and ladies. You know your orders. We will rendezvous at the city's eastern side near the Razlond Embassy in four days.”

With a sense of urgency and purpose, the nobles and advisors rose from their seats, their murmured conversations creating a low hum of anticipation. The Queen and Merlot stood simultaneously, signaling the end of the council meeting. As the Queen gracefully exited the chamber, her robes trailing behind her like a wave of authority, Merlot remained behind. He watched her leave before turning his focus to Lina.

“Baroness,” he called, his voice firm yet discreet. I want to speak with you privately, Runner and Hoat.”

Lina nodded, understanding the gravity of his request. The four of them quietly slipped away from the bustling hall, finding a secluded room where they could speak without fear of eavesdroppers. Once inside, Merlot closed the door, ensuring their conversation remained confidential.

He took a deep breath, his eyes reflecting concern and determination. “I saw something during our surveillance that I did not want to share with the others. We spotted a bronze elf and a large man carrying Zavet on the palace's roof. These two men were later seen in combat with another figure, a lizard man. We speculate this bronze Elf to be the Moon King of Undeath. Moreover, he matches descriptions from mythology, suggesting he could be the creator of necromancy.”

The weight of his words hung heavily in the room. “If that lizard man bested Mah’nethotep, our forces are insufficient. I know that the last baron of Krimlond was removed for practicing necromancy, but if you still have contacts, use them. We need every advantage we can muster. I will be declaring that all tools be utilized, including necromancy. However, we will strictly prohibit the creation of undead.”

He paused, looking each of them in the eyes to ensure they understood the severity of the situation. “Our enemy is formidable, and we must be prepared to face them with everything we have.”

Lina nodded thoughtfully, her expression serious. “We may know someone who can help.”

Hoat, usually composed, hesitated before speaking, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I need to confess something. I was not being truthful earlier. Zavet was harmed by healing magic. That’s why only the large man was the first to get to him. His name is Talich, and he used necromancy to heal him.”

Runner, standing beside them, nodded in agreement. “Yes, the bronze elf you saw was indeed Mah’nethotep. I have encountered him before, and there is no doubt it was him. Talich was specifically tasked with caring for Zavet and ensuring his safety.”

Merlot absorbed their words, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. “This changes things,” he said, his tone measured. “If Zavet was harmed by conventional healing magic, it means he has an imbuement of necromancy. I don't think he was undead. Our knights would have known if he was undead.”

He turned to Runner. “Your confirmation about Mah’nethotep solidifies our suspicions. If the creator of necromancy is involved, our situation is even more dire. His knowledge and power are unparalleled.”

Lina spoke up again, her voice resolute. “The contact we have in mind is discreet but knowledgeable in the old arts. They can help us understand the intricacies of necromancy without crossing the line to create undead. We will reach out to them immediately.”

Merlot nodded, a plan forming in his mind. “We need to act swiftly and decisively. Coordinate with your contacts and gather any intelligence you can. Hoat, continue to monitor Zavet’s condition and ensure Talich has everything he needs. Runner, keep an eye on Mah’nethotep’s movements.”

The room fell silent as the gravity of their mission settled over them. Merlot’s eyes met each of theirs, conveying his urgency and hope for their success. “We are facing an ancient and powerful enemy, but with our combined strengths and resources, we will protect Tiaghaneth. This is our moment to stand united against the darkness.”

With a final nod of determination, the four left the room, each tasked with a vital role in the coming days.

Lina and her remaining Krimlond members gathered on the dusty road, their path leading back to Nuri’fon. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows as they walked, a quiet determination in their stride. Runner walked alongside them, his presence a silent testament to their shared mission.

“Gauge, are you still a member of the Necro guild?” Lina asked, breaking the silence.

Gauge raised an eyebrow, glanced at Flynn, and turned back to Lina. “Uhh, no. Not anymore. Why do you ask?”

Lina’s gaze was steady, her expression serious. “I need you to escort Runner to the Necro guild hall. I know Talich. I know he was once a member of the guild. I also know they have a resurrection hall there.”

Gauge nodded in agreement, his face reflecting a mix of nostalgia and apprehension. “Yeah, I know of Talich. He was a higher-up in the guild. I can’t resurrect there anymore. I don’t know how we will get inside unless Runner here knows how to cast necromancy.”

Flynn shook his head, his expression one of concern and frustration. “Are we really going back to the old ways? You know I am allied with the druids. I learned their magic, and now I must report to them about any necromancer.”

Lina shrugged, her resolve unwavering. “We are doing what the queen asked. We need to find Zavet, and Runner needs to keep his eye on Mah’nethotep. I suggest that he join the guild, become an inside man. If he successfully joins, we will consider him joining the barony.”

Flynn rolled his eyes, a mixture of resignation and annoyance in his voice. “It seems like Krimlond is always destined to be necromancers.”

Gauge laughed, the sound a rare moment of levity amidst the tension. “Almost every single barony has a member in the Necro guild. The funny thing is, the Necro guild leaders always try to get them to betray their baronies. It never works. The barony members are always on the side of their barony.”

As they continued walking, the gravity of their mission settled over them like a heavy cloak. The road ahead was fraught with danger and uncertainty, but their determination was unshakable. The prospect of venturing into the Necro guild, steeped in dark magic and ancient secrets, loomed large in their minds.

Lina turned to Runner, her eyes filled with hope and urgency. “Runner, are you prepared for this task? Joining the guild won’t be easy, and maintaining your cover will be even harder. But it’s crucial for our mission.”

Runner nodded, his expression resolute. “I understand the risks. I’ll do whatever it takes to help us succeed.”

Guage and Runner head north while the others head to Nuri’fon to Rendezvous with the rest of the kingdom

Flynn turned to Lina, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. “The High Druid planned to destroy the Moon of Undeath. I think the druids caused this to happen.”

Lina raised an eyebrow, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, I think we put that together. The druids are so short-sighted. They’ll be lucky if the queen doesn’t outlaw druids like they did with necromancers.”

Flynn’s face twisted in disgust. “The kingdom could not win that war. We would cause all the crops to die, and we would cause all the animals to relocate. The balance of nature is our domain, and we have more influence than you realize.”

Hoat stepped forward, anger flashing in his eyes. “The druids caused the war with Wispeneth because of their extremist beliefs. Now they’re dragging us into another conflict. These druids aren’t even part of our kingdom, yet they’re always causing us to go to war.”

Before the situation could escalate, Lina stepped between them, raising her hands to separate them. “Let’s focus on what’s important right now. We need to get Teric, Scarlett, and Harley back safely. Once we do, we’ll bring this issue to the queen. I don’t know if the kingdom has officially discussed it yet, but we all assumed the druids were behind this.”

The tension in the air was palpable, but Lina’s words seemed to calm them slightly. The group resumed their march, their steps heavy with the weight of their mission.

As they walked, Lina continued, her voice steady and resolute. “The druids’ actions have thrown our kingdom into chaos. If they truly destroyed the Moon of Undeath, they’ve unleashed forces beyond their control. We must gather as much evidence as possible to present to the queen. The fate of our kingdom depends on it.”

Flynn, still simmering with anger, nodded reluctantly. “I’ll do what I can to help. But know this, Lina: if the kingdom turns against the druids, it will be a long and bitter conflict. Nature itself will rise against those who seek to control it.”

Hoat shook his head, his expression grim. “We need to prevent that. We’ve already lost too much to senseless wars. Our focus now should be on protecting our people and restoring balance.”

After three arduous days of travel, Lina, Flynn, and Hoat finally reached the rendezvous point. The journey had been grueling, their path winding through dense forests, over rocky hills, and across swift rivers. Despite the physical toll, their determination remained steadfast. They knew the importance of their mission and the urgency of meeting up with their allies.

The rendezvous point was a secluded clearing near the eastern side of the city, close to the Razlond Embassy. As they approached, they scanned the area for any signs of movement. The dense foliage provided ample cover, making it an ideal spot for a clandestine meeting.

Lina took the lead, her eyes sharp and alert. Flynn followed closely, his senses attuned to any natural disturbances that might signal danger. Hoat brought up the rear, his hand never straying far from his weapon.

Upon reaching the clearing, they were greeted by a small contingent of their allies, who had arrived earlier and set up a temporary camp. The relief of seeing familiar faces was palpable, but the gravity of their mission quickly reasserted itself.

Lina addressed the group, her voice firm and clear. “We’ve made it. Now, let’s prepare for the next phase. We have much to discuss and little time to waste.”

A day later, Runner and Gauge departed from the rest of their group, setting out to find Zavet at the black pyramid where the necromancers' guild hall was located. As they approached the imposing structure, the sky above was overcast, casting eerie shadows on the pyramid’s dark, gleaming surface.

At the base of the pyramid, the pair paused. The entrance was hidden, but Gauge knew the way. He turned to Runner, his expression serious. “Okay, you need to place your hand here,” he instructed, pointing to a specific spot on the smooth, cold stone of the pyramid. “And say the following incantation: ‘By my power, I command these walls to recognize the necromancy within me.’”

Runner nodded, his hand trembling slightly as he pressed it against the designated spot. He took a deep breath and recited the incantation. “By my power, I command these walls to recognize the necromancy within me.”

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the stone beneath Runner’s hand began to glow faintly, lines of crimson light tracing out a doorway. With a low, grinding sound, a section of the pyramid’s wall slid open, revealing a pitch-black room beyond.

Runner squinted into the darkness, his heart racing. He could just make out a pair of glowing red eyes in the middle of the room, watching them intently. Gauge stepped forward confidently, his voice echoing in the still air.

“We wish to seek an audience with Lord Talich of the Black Order.”

The red eyes blinked, and a deep, resonant voice responded from the shadows. “State your purpose.”

Gauge glanced at Runner before speaking again. “We seek Zavet, who we believe is here under Lord Talich’s protection. We come in peace and with urgent news.”

The red eyes seemed to consider this momentarily before the voice replied. “Very well. Enter and be judged.”

As the door opened, the darkness seemed to swallow them whole. Runner and Gauge stepped inside, feeling the chill of the necromantic energy that permeated the air. Torches along the walls flickered to life, casting a dim, otherworldly glow on the stone corridors. They could see now that the eyes belonged to a spectral guardian, its ethereal form hovering just above the ground.

“Follow me,” the guardian intoned, turning and gliding deeper into the pyramid.

Gauge and Runner exchanged a look of determination and followed the guardian, their footsteps echoing softly in the cavernous halls. As they walked, the walls around them were adorned with ancient hieroglyphs and symbols, telling the story of the necromancers' long and storied past. The air grew colder as they descended further, the pyramid's weight pressing down on them.

Finally, they reached a grand hall where Talich stood, his imposing figure illuminated by the flickering torchlight. His presence exuded authority and power, and he regarded the newcomers with a piercing gaze.

“Lord Talich,” Gauge began, bowing respectfully. “We thank you for granting us this audience. We have come to speak with Zavet and bring important news.”

Talich nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing as he studied them. “Very well. Zavet is here, under my protection. But know this—any threat to him is a threat to us all.”

Runner and Gauge both nodded, their resolve unshaken. “We understand,” Runner replied. “We only wish to help.”

Talich’s stern expression softened slightly. “Then speak your news, and let us see what can be done.”

Talich, his expression still stern, motioned for Runner and Gauge to follow him. He led them through the grand hall and into a dimly lit corridor. The flickering torchlight cast long, wavering shadows on the walls, creating an almost surreal atmosphere. The silence was palpable, broken only by the soft echoes of their footsteps on the stone floor.

As they walked, they passed several chambers filled with ancient relics and artifacts of necromantic power. Shelves lined with dusty tomes, alchemical equipment bubbling with strange liquids, and arcane symbols etched into the stone all attested to the pyramid’s long history and its current purpose.

Finally, they arrived at a spacious room where several wooden tables were arranged. On the tables were loaves of bread and pitchers of water, a simple but welcoming gesture in this austere environment. Talich gestured for Runner and Gauge to sit at one of the tables.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” Talich said, his voice resonating in the stillness. “We will await Zavet here.”

He then turned to a nearby skeleton guard, clad in dark armor with glowing runes. “Find Zavet and bring him here,” Talich commanded. The guard bowed stiffly and clattered off to carry out the order.

As Runner and Gauge took their seats, they couldn’t help but take in their surroundings. The room was adorned with more hieroglyphs and ancient carvings, each telling stories of necromancers from ages past. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and a faint, lingering aroma of incense.

Runner reached for a piece of bread, his hands trembling slightly from the journey. “This place is incredible,” he murmured, breaking the bread and taking a bite. The simple fare was surprisingly fresh, a testament to the guild’s careful maintenance of their supplies.

Gauge nodded, sipping from a cup of water. “It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The history here must be immense.”

Talich watched them with a thoughtful expression, his eyes betraying a hint of curiosity. “Indeed, this pyramid holds many secrets and much power. It is both a sanctuary and a fortress.”

As they waited, the room’s ambiance seemed to grow more solemn. The flickering torchlight cast a warm glow on the stone walls, creating a sense of timelessness. Runner and Gauge couldn’t shake the feeling that they were at the heart of something ancient and powerful.

After a short while, footsteps approached. The skeleton guard returned, leading Zavet into the room. Zavet looked around, his eyes bright with curiosity and a hint of excitement. When he saw Runner and Gauge, his face lit up with recognition.

“Runner! What are you doing here?” Zavet exclaimed, hurrying over to them.

Runner stood up, embracing Zavet warmly. “We came to find you, Zavet. We have important news.”

Zavet glanced at Talich, who nodded reassuringly. “It’s okay, Zavet. They are here under my protection.”

Gauge stepped forward, placing a hand on Zavet’s shoulder. “We need to talk, Zavet. There’s a lot you need to know.”

Zavet nodded, taking a seat at the table with them. Talich joined them as well, his presence a steadying influence. As the group settled in, the atmosphere in the room shifted from awe to earnest discussion.

“Let’s hear what you have to say,” Talich said, calm and measured.

As the group settled around the table, the atmosphere grew tense with anticipation. Talich’s watchful eyes remained on Runner and Gauge, assessing their every move. Runner took a deep breath and began to speak, his voice steady but urgent.

“Zavet, we’ve come to ask for your help. The king consort, Merlot, wants to reclaim the city. We need to know everything you can tell us about the creature that attacked.”

Zavet’s eyes brightened with recognition and a touch of nostalgia. He leaned forward, a warm smile spreading across his face. “His name is Iscariot,” Zavet began, his voice filled with a mix of familiarity and concern. “He is from my tribe of people.”

Runner and Gauge exchanged glances, intrigued by this revelation. Talich listened intently, his expression thoughtful.

Zavet continued, his tone becoming more serious. “Iscariot is powerful, more so than many realize.”

Runner leaned in, his curiosity piqued. “What can you tell us about his abilities? Is there anything that might help us understand how to stop him?”

Zavet nodded, gathering his thoughts. “Iscariot has a unique connection to necromantic energies. He can manipulate them in ways that others can’t. This gives him an edge in battle, allowing him to heal quickly and summon the dead to fight for him.”

Gauge frowned, deep in thought. “That explains why our forces struggled against him. Is there any way to counteract his abilities?”

Zavet hesitated, considering the question carefully. “There might be. His strength comes from his connection to the power of the forgotten. If we can disrupt that connection, weaken his hold on those energies, we might stand a chance.”

Talich, who had been silent until now, spoke up. “Disrupting such a connection would require powerful magic and precise timing. It’s not something to be taken lightly. But if Zavet believes it can be done, we must consider it.”

Runner nodded determination in his eyes. “We’ll need to plan carefully and gather the right resources. Zavet, will you help us? We can’t do this without you.”

Zavet’s expression softened, and he touched Runner’s shoulder. “Of course, I’ll help. Iscariot is from my tribe. I don't want him giving us a bad name. I'll tell him to stop being mean.”

Gauge looked relieved, a smile spreading across his face. “Thank you, Zavet. I'm sure we will get through this with your knowledge,” he said sarcastically.

Runner laughed, shaking his head at Gauge’s remark. “Zavet's knowledge consists of bugs and smoking fairy wings. We are so dead.”

Zavet blinked, momentarily confused by the humor. He then chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “Hey, bugs can be pretty useful. And those fairy wings are... an acquired taste.”

Talich stood, commanding the room and bringing a more serious tone to the conversation. “Then it’s settled. We will prepare and gather what we need.”

As they began discussing their strategy, Talich detailed the necessary preparations. “We will need powerful wards to protect us from Iscariot’s necromantic powers,” he explained. “Gauge, you must gather the necessary materials for these wards. Runner, you should focus on rallying any additional allies who can join our cause. We will need every bit of strength we can muster.”

Runner nodded, taking mental notes. “I think I may know someone with some numbers behind them.”

Gauge’s expression became more thoughtful. “I know a few alchemists who can provide us with potions and elixirs to bolster our defenses and enhance our abilities. I’ll contact them immediately.”

Talich turned to Zavet, his gaze firm but encouraging. “Zavet, your understanding of Iscariot will be useful. You must help us anticipate his moves and find weaknesses we can exploit.”

Zavet nodded eagerly, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. “I’ll do whatever I can. Iscariot may be strong, but he’s not invincible. We just need to outsmart him.”

The group continued to plan late into the night, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows on the walls as they discussed every detail. Talich shared his extensive knowledge of necromantic spells and countermeasures, teaching Runner and Gauge what they would face. Zavet offered insights into Iscariot’s behavior and tactics, recalling their shared history and the strengths and weaknesses of their tribe’s abilities.

Talich stood once more, his voice filled with quiet confidence. “We have our plan. Now, we must act. Prepare yourselves. Go pack anything and everything that you think may help us.”

Runner, Gauge, and Zavet nodded in unison, their determination mirrored in each other’s eyes.

Mah’nethotep is standing with his back against the wall, his legs crossed. He chuckles, “The need to summon the heroic souls. It's the only way to get enough manpower to kill him. Zavet, I empowered you at the tournament, which should help you fight the undead. I'll cast some rituals to help with the fight, but I want the kingdom to help me recreate the forgotten.”

Gauge sighs “I don't have the power to agree to that. I can talk to the queen. That's the best I can offer.”

Mah’nethotep nods in agreement. “I'll find a way to get my message across.“

Mah’nethotep looked at Runner and gestured for him to follow. Runner looked at everyone confused but complied, falling into step behind the ancient necromancer. As they walked through the dimly lit corridors of the pyramid, the air was thick with the scent of ancient magic and old secrets. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings and hieroglyphs, whispering tales of times long past.

“Do you need something from me, sir?” Runner asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and apprehension.

Mah’nethotep ignored the question, focusing elsewhere. “Ghostfast,” he said, the word hanging heavily in the air. “Your father has a bed chamber within these halls. His equipment is still in there. Tear keeps it polished. It's rightfully yours.”

Runner’s steps faltered, his mind racing. His father’s legacy had always been a mystery, a void in his life filled with questions and longing. “My father’s... chambers?” he echoed, disbelief mingling with a glimmer of hope.

Mah’nethotep nodded, his expression inscrutable. “Yes. Your father was a formidable member of our order. His contributions were significant, and his presence is still felt within these walls. You deserve to inherit his legacy.”

They reached a heavy stone door, its surface etched with runes that glowed faintly. Mah’nethotep placed a hand on the door, and it slowly creaked open, revealing a room bathed in a soft, eerie light. Inside, the chamber was filled with relics of the past: weapons, armor, and various artifacts, each meticulously maintained. A sense of reverence pervaded the room.

Runner stepped inside, his eyes wide with awe. The chamber was a testament to his father’s prowess and dedication. An ornate suit of armor stood in one corner, its surface gleaming as if freshly polished. Weapons of various shapes and sizes were mounted on the walls, each a masterpiece of craftsmanship.

Tear, the lich, appeared silently at the doorway, his skeletal form almost blending into the shadows. “I’ve kept everything in perfect condition,” he said, his voice a dry whisper. “Your father’s legacy is something we all respect deeply.”

Runner turned to Mah’nethotep, emotion welling up in his eyes. “Thank you. I never knew... I never imagined I would find this.”

Mah’nethotep placed a reassuring hand on Runner’s shoulder. “Your father was a great man; his spirit lives on through you. Use his knowledge and equipment wisely. They will aid you in the battles to come.”

Runner nodded, feeling renewed purpose and connection to his past. He walked further into the room, touching the armor and weapons with reverence. Each piece seemed to hum with latent power, waiting for its new master to wield it.

“I will make him proud,” Runner vowed quietly, his voice firm with resolve. “I’ll use his legacy to protect our people and reclaim our city.”

Mah’nethotep smiled faintly, a rare expression on his usually stoic face. “I have no doubt you will. Now, prepare yourself. The path ahead is fraught with danger, but you are not alone. We will face it together.”

With a final nod, Mah’nethotep turned and left the room, leaving Runner to explore his father’s legacy in solitude. The chamber, once a silent testament to a forgotten past, now thrummed with the promise.

Runner picked up a black two-handed sword and examined it, noting the initials TG engraved on the pommel. The sword was a single piece of metal, seamlessly blending the blade and hilt, with the weight tripling where the crossguard would have been. It was a solid, flawless sword, a masterpiece even a master blacksmith would admire. Though he didn't unwrap the hilt, the tang bore his mother's name. Placing the sword back, he turned to the leather armor on the stand.

The leather armor, deceptively simple, had metal plates underneath, strategically covering vital areas, with studs dotting the exterior for added protection. He packed the armor and sword, then delved into his father's belongings. He found letters, orders, and over a thousand gold coins with a note: "Savings for future retirement." As he read through the letters, tears welled up. His father seemed like a normal person, even a good person. The letters inquired about his missions and spoke of how big Thaine Jr. was getting.

Runner stared at his name. Thaine. It felt strange, almost foreign. Runner was a nickname he didn't remember its origin, though he recalled his mother calling him that. Or did she? Memories blurred, leaving him in a haze. He continued reading, finally seeing his mother's name, Thalindra. He traced his finger over her name, tears streaming down his face. Sitting on the bed, he broke down, the weight of his past and the revelation of his parents' identities overwhelming him.

This moment of vulnerability led to a decision. Runner resolved to become a dark knight. The honor and strength of his father, combined with the mystery of his mother's legacy, fueled his determination. He would protect the innocent and uphold justice using his inherited skills and knowledge.

His mind raced with thoughts of the battles ahead, the training he needed, and the allies he had to gather. He knew the path wouldn't be easy, but the legacy he discovered provided the strength and motivation he needed. Runner's tears dried as resolve hardened within him. He would honor his parents' memories and carve his path, one forged in the crucible of his newfound identity.

As he packed the last of his father's belongings, he took one final look around the room, now a shrine to the man he never truly knew but deeply respected. His heart ached with loss and pride, and he silently vowed to live up to the legacy left behind. He stood tall, his grip on the black sword firm and resolute, and walked out of the chamber, ready to embrace his destiny as a dark knight.

Emerging from the chamber, Runner felt a profound sense of purpose. In the hallway, he met Mah'nethotep, who seemed to sense the transformation within him. “I see you’ve found what you needed,” the master said, his voice a mix of approval and curiosity.

Runner nodded, his expression determined. “Yes. I’ve found my purpose. I will become a dark knight—and honor my father’s legacy.”

Mah’nethotep’s eyes gleamed with understanding. “Very well. Embrace your destiny, Thaine. The battles ahead will be challenging, but I have no doubt you will rise to the occasion.”

Runner smirked at hearing someone call him Thaine. “You know my name, huh.”

Mah’nethotep turned to face him fully, a stern yet knowing look in his eyes. “You may call me Master or Lord Mah’nethotep, but never huh. I make a point to know all of my knights, young man. I always ensure my knights and their families are taken care of. It’s why you made it out of our first encounter alive. I knew you then.”

Runner’s smirk faded into a look of curiosity and respect. “What do you mean?”

Mah’nethotep continued, his voice carrying the weight of his centuries of experience. “Do you think that test was for Zavet? It was for you. You put up a better fight than two fully trained knights. You and Zavet are truly special. While he is powerful in magic and will be a force on his own, your heart is just as strong.”

Runner stood a little taller, absorbing the necromancer's words. He had always felt like an outsider, but here was someone acknowledging his potential and strength.

“To be honest,” Mah’nethotep said, a rare smile crossing his lips, “only an idiot would bet on a fight between you two. The only winner of that fight would be the witnesses who got far enough away.”

Runner chuckled at the thought, his confidence growing. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, Lord Mah’nethotep.”

Mah’nethotep nodded, a smile lingering on his face. “Remember, Runner, your journey is just beginning. Embrace your father's legacy and forge your path with the strength of your heart and the skills you’ve acquired. Together, we will reclaim what is rightfully ours.”

With those words, Mah’nethotep turned and began returning to the meeting chamber, his robes flowing behind him like shadows. Runner followed, his mind buzzing with newfound determination and purpose.

As they walked through the ancient corridors, Runner couldn’t help but feel a sense of belonging. Once a place of mystery and fear, the pyramid now felt like a sanctuary where he could grow and learn. He glanced at the sword and armor he carried, symbols of his father’s legacy and his future as a dark knight.

When they reached the meeting chamber, Runner saw the others waiting. Talich, Zavet, Gauge, and Tear looked up as Mah’nethotep and Runner entered. The room seemed to buzz with anticipation and energy.

Mah’nethotep took his place at the head of the table, his presence commanding respect.

The group gathered around the table, ready to strategize and plan. The air was thick with unity and purpose as they discussed their next steps.

Mah’nethotep laid out a city map, pointing to key locations and discussing their tactical significance. “We’ll need to secure these areas first,” he said. “Runner, your knowledge and skills will be crucial in executing this plan.”

Gauge pointed to the map spread out on the table. “The kingdom has a plan,” he said, his finger tracing strategic locations marked in red. “But I'm sure they won't turn down help. Just, for the love of the moons, please don't send undead.”

Talich laughed heartily, the sound echoing through the ancient chamber. “Yeah, and it’s best for you, Master, to stay here. You must rebuild your strength since you lost much of your power when the Forgotten fell.”

Mah’nethotep nodded, his eyes narrowing as he considered the implications. “I was only going to observe from a distance,” he said, his voice resonating with authority and exhaustion.

Runner nodded, absorbing the information and contributing his insights. The team worked late into the night, each member bringing unique strengths.

As the meeting drew close, Mah’nethotep looked around the room, his eyes filled with a rare warmth. “Together, we will succeed. This is the first step in rebuilding the forgotten.”

With renewed determination, the group dispersed, each member ready to take on the challenges ahead. They stood and began gathering their supplies. Gauge looked to the group, saying, “By the time we get there, Krimlond will be ready to reclaim their keep. Oh! Lord Mah’nethotep, can you supply us with a few basic ritual scrolls? All of ours are in our keep.”

Mah’nethotep nodded in agreement and turned to Tear. “Can you give Gauge your traveling ritual book?”

Tear agreed and went to retrieve it. As everyone finished packing, Tear returned with the book in hand. He approached Gauge and handed it over. “Phantom Whispers, Ritual Wards, Cure Curse, Cure Taint, Remove Command. This should do it.”

Gauge accepted the book with a grateful nod. “Thank you, Tear. These will be invaluable.”

Talich finished securing his gear and addressed the group. “We have everything we need. Let’s move out and join Krimlond’s forces..”

Runner glanced around at his companions, feeling a sense of unity and purpose. “Let’s do this.”

Mah’nethotep watched them with a mixture of pride and hope. “May the moons guide you all. Stay vigilant and work together. ”

With final preparations complete, the group set out, their hearts filled with determination. They knew the road ahead would be treacherous, but with Mah’nethotep’s guidance and the support of one another, they were ready to face whatever challenges awaited them.

As they traveled, their bond grew stronger. Each step brought them closer to reclaiming the city.