Chapter 2 – Erwyn of the Dead
”Past the streams of Oceanus they went, past the rock Leucas, past the gates of the sun and the land of dreams, and quickly came to the mead of asphodel, where the spirits dwell, phantoms of men who have done with toils.”
– Odyssey 24, Homer
– ***** –
Three weeks before breakdown (IGT) <1>
Elric was resting against a split rock, catching his breath while contemplating the ravaged area. An unnatural silence weight down on the scene. Not a single bird was singing. Not even a fly could be heard. The once peaceful-looking [Sacred Oak Grove] had transformed into a thoroughly trashed clearing, oddly circular, and littered with fallen trees, uprooted stomps, piles of charred smashed corpses and broken bones half sunken into the blood-mixed sticky mud.
He sighted.
*Flash-back that goes “woosh”*
The lich was unexpectedly fierce. It relied on its superior speed and small bone frame to constantly evade his glowing Zweihänder <2> coated with holy light. Bombarded by a storm of necrotic spells, Elric was reduced to defending his life, waiting for the skeletal bastard to empty its mana pool.
However, each time the deadly barrage had seemed to weaken, his cunning assailant had raised countless undead minions to obstruct its mighty pissed foe. As if to further mock Elric, the grinning osseous asshole would then proceed to chill out, sitting on top of a nearby tree, looking down on melee. If popcorn had been available, Elric would surely have heard not-so-discreet background crunching sounds over the wails of the encircling filthy horde.
The opponent’s strategy was simple, yet annoyingly efficient against a solo player such has himself. Especially so taking into account the endless stamina of the undead. The solitary knight wasn’t in his top condition either. For hours, he had been running throughout the woods, facing battle after battle in an uninterrupted fashion. If this situation continued any longer, the balance would irreversibly shift in favour of the mini-boss, and Challenger Elric would then lose and die a gruesome death.
Since his already-mistreated self-esteem wouldn’t allow such conclusion, he had resolved himself. Disregarding his safety, he gave his whole in a last desperate attempt to restore his crumbling honour. Lifting his sword towards the menacing sky, he had chanted a power-filled invocation. As soon as the words left his mouth, a shining dome of amber light materialised and closed around himself and his opponent, delimiting an impenetrable and inescapable — and well lit — battlefield.
[Sun Arena]:
An efficient spell, given its negligible mana-cost, yet one Elric wouldn’t gladly use because of its restrictions. In fact, the virtually unbreakable barrier couldn’t be invoked unless his health dropped under 10%, and wouldn’t disappear until either himself or his target died… or redied… or rest in peace/pieces… or whatever was said about defeated undead. In short, a do or die last resort, labelled “Please use when you’re screwed anyway”.
With his bane finally pinned down, but no more escape path, while continuously slicing and crushing wave after wave of crawling minions, Elric threw all the AoE offensive spells he knew into the enclosed space, certain the bony fucker wouldn’t be able to evade them this time!
Mouhahahahaha!!!
Laughing hysterically, taking blows after blows, he ravaged the area, eventually turning everything into a bloody mess.
– *** –
*Back to present*
His health and stamina sufficiently recovered, Elric rose from the ground, and moved away from the wasted blessed rock. He then proceeded to gather the loot left behind by his unyielding and feral adversary and his gory henchmen.
“But man… Who knew even squirrels could turn into liches?”
Squirrel? That’s right. The all-powerful foe, the near-invincible enemy warranting all this mindless deforestation, were the animated remains of a commonly inoffensive sciuridae, often known for its unhealthy addiction to hazelnuts. How did it come to this?
*Reflash-back*
When Elric first stumbled across the forest path swarming with undead critters, he burst into laughter, as the scene somehow called out to his dysfunctional sense of humour. His laughing fit lasted about five seconds, until a [Dead Bear Knight], all of bones and smoke, and wearing a crooked helmet, suddenly jumped him from behind a bush. Elric barely had the time to take half of a defensive stance, before being propelled against a tree. Stunned and covered with dirt, leaves, and a few fallen insects, he got up to face the fleshless plantigrade. Ready to evade the next blow, he felt an unexpected wet and slimy touch, creeping on his unprotected cheek, accompanied by a rapidly spreading dizziness.
You have been poisoned by [Zombie Snail].
“Huh?!”
Surprised, he let down his guard and was sent flying once more. Thankfully, he got back to his senses fast, his training kicking in. Twisting his body in mid-air, he reached for the ground and made a well-controlled, textbook perfect recovery. He wasn’t in any mood to appreciate the feat though.
“What was THAT?!?! YOU… freakin’ SNAIL!? ‘OW DAWE YOU!”
Feeling humiliated, Elric had squashed the impudent mollusc, spraying his face with decayed muck.
This might be slightly overreacting, but being hurt by a thumb-sized zombie while fighting a three metres tall grizzly corpse somewhat left a dent in his psyche. Roaring, without even unsheathing his sword, he pivoted back towards the bear and ragingly rammed his fist in its snout. The lucky critical hit actually managed to pulverize the skull of the beast, which collapsed.
The rest of the day was rather blurry in Elric’s memory. On a berserk rampage, he roamed the woods erratically, clearing it from its filth. Wielding the full potential of his hidden elemental-godless-paladin-ish class, he mowed, punched, trampled, burnt and beamed the undead to oblivion, only hindered by their sheer number and weird diversity. Most encounters actually managed to damage his ego further than his health. Difficult to remain unfazed when constantly assaulted by irregular creatures such as the [Armoured Rotting Cockroach], the [Dullahan Chicken], the [Not-so-fluffy-anymore Bunny], and even a dangerous named monster, called [Famished Man-Eating Platypus “Perry”].
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
As the sun came down, he eventually ran across the Sacred Grove, where the zone mini-boss greeted him with a maniacal squeaky giggle, that it probably intended to be some fear-inducing evil laugh. The knee-high, caped — Why ?! —, [Mighty Immortal Squirrel Lich “???”], was striking a pose, bony arms lifted towards the canopy, as if to state what a grandiose overlord he was. It looked kind of endearing. At this point, Elric didn’t knew what to do anymore. Was he supposed to laugh, cry, or simply walk to the small necromancer, pat it on the skull and gently praise him for its tentative threatening display?
His hesitation was cut short when the nevertheless high level critter — probably pissed not to get the expected reaction from its long-awaited audience — launched a ghastly greenish howling fireball at the unprepared Elric. Without further ado, a tired knight charged at a prideful evil chipmunk, starting the final battle. ~ Epic music playing ~
*End of FB, for now*
With his inventory filled with weird loot — All the lich had dropped was a [Cursed Fated Acorn]. What the hell?! — Elric exited the devastated battleground. After reaching a less-post-apocalyptic-looking area, and clearing it of the butchered corpses of lesser critters with a sweep of [Holy Kärcher Beam] (tentative name), he set up a camp, repaired his mistreated equipment, and cooked what little food he had left. Two weeks of random wandering and unnecessarily copious meals had taken its toll on his reserves. They were now reduced to three loafs of rancid bread, as well as some edible herbs he had picked along the way. So, to be fair, “cooking” was a bit of an overstatement.
At night, the underfed knight would dream of raining boar-steaks, flying deer-skewers, rivers of rabbit stew, and sexy roasted chicken dancing the cancan. He usually hunted for meat, however it wasn’t possible in his current location. The whole Kingdom of Erwyn was plagued with undead — the “normal” kind, not the wannabe fluffy and gothic cute kind. All wildlife had fled long ago or been devoured, leaving only corpses wandering around. And no one in his right mind would dare consume undead flesh, as it was highly poisonous… and tasted horrible, ask Elric. The only place around where one could find a decent solid meal was in one of the fortified Erwynian townships.
Before his unfortunate…eeeh…encounter with the soulless varmints and their pompous nut job of an overlord, Elric had been on his way to the town of Cali. His map located its eastern gate about two days of steady walking away from the place where he ran into the bear. However, hours of madly trashing around in the damned woods rendered him utterly and mercilessly… lost. As a matter of fact, there was no mention of any sacred grove on the map — nor was there much of a grove left to speak of, for all that mattered. By the way, he only knew the name of the place because of a pop-up window that had congratulated him for being the first to discover it, along with a bonus of [+100 Fame], nearly causing him to be hit by Squirrellord’s first ghost ball.
Lucky me…
Having finished dry-cleaning his tableware, Elric put them away and took out his sleeping bag, and laid it on the bare ground. He didn’t bother with a tent, as the weather was quite nice tonight. “Nice”, by Erwynian standards though, meaning simply ominously cloudy, not a single star visible, but without apparent risk of sudden wild killer thunderstorm appearing.
Seriously... Why can’t a fallen country have some welcoming climate, for once? An undead is still an undead, even under the sun…well no…that would often be a pile of ashes, but still… Is it like a side close in every bloody dark spell, or something?
“… and may your children be cursed up to days untold ... yada yada yada … your bodies rot alive … yada yada yada … your cattle vomit blood through their asses … yada yada … three-leg puppies … yada … cancelling One Piece … frogs … fire … locust … plague … death to first born — made a killing in Egypt, this one — … porridge … no cell phone … misplaced aches and haemorrhoids … small Lego … tuberculosis … leprosy … gangrene … Violetta … no more toilet paper … yadi yada … da … AH! ... and formation of rain-/thunderclouds over most of the country, with high chances of depressing sudden precipitations, fog, storm, floods, occasional meteorite fall, and a shitload of pointless stuff, just to set the mood, you know... The winds shall suddenly change from violent, blowing North, South, East AND West at the same time, to hazardously stagnant and stinky with no compromising in-between. That’s all for today folks. See you tomorrow and we wish you a disagreeable evening listening to our Mind Control Channel!”…
Yeah…well… Complaining is all well and good, but what do I do now?
– ***** –
<1> In Game Time
<2> The Zweihänder (German for "two hander", also called Two handed sword), is a two-handed sword in the true meaning of the term, because it requires two hands to wield, unlike other large swords that are wielded with two hands but can also be wielded with one.
Spoiler :
http%3a%2f%2fi.imgur.com%2fQ0lfP08.jpg [http://i.imgur.com/Q0lfP08.jpg]
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The idea crossed my mind of having you guys guess the origin of the opening quote of each chapter, like a game with a small prize or sth, but you lazy ass ingenious, and most precious, readers would probably just Google the whole damn thing, so to hell with that.
Aside from that, thanks for sticking with me and see you next chapter.
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