Chapter Twenty-Nine – The Necromanced
Tara had seen necromanced spirits in game, but never in person. She couldn’t help being shocked. It was, after all, one thing to see a monster on a narrow and limited screen. It was another entirely to actually see the rotted monster face-to-face.
The two creatures who entered the open door could scarcely be considered human. Their flesh was withered where there was any flesh at all. Necromancy might have trapped living souls inside their bodies, but it couldn’t preserve the condition of the body itself, and these people had been dead for some time.
Class
Class Details
Base Stats
Necromanced
The necromanced, otherwise known as necro-victims, are dead bodies reanimated by necromancers. These beings are impervious to pain and will attack at the command of their master.
Stamina: 200
Strength: 100
Intelligence: 0
Dexterity: 100
Magic: Variable
Vulnerabilities: No vulnerabilities. The necromanced must be obliterated.
Horon drew his sword, bellowing in fury. Before the Fenman could do anything, one of the necro-victims spoke a binding spell, and he was frozen in place. Tara had never realized that necromanced spirits were able to use the spells of their master on others, but she found herself paralyzed by a similar power.
Wait, she thought, struggling frantically. How did this happen? In the game, I press the square to escape. That’s right, hit the square…
But there was no square to push. As she fought to free herself, Tara was amazed when the invisible clamp around her began to loosen.
Gasping, Tara was briefly stunned when she found herself free. She barely managed to raise her own sword to counter a brutal attack from one of the necromanced.
By this time, Horon and the others had freed themselves as well. Elita was armed with her own short daggers, and she ran to help Tara, stabbing at the legs of the necromanced when a guttural voice interrupted them.
“Stop,” said the other necromanced. “If you want this one to live.”
Tara raised her eyes, her blade at the throat of the necromanced she had been fighting. Her heart stuttered when she saw Kell on the ground, the fey’s sallow face terrified at the axe raised over him.
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“Drop your weapons,” said the necromanced.
“No!” Kell’s cry was desperate and somehow despairing. He struggled to his feet and threw himself at the necromanced. The necromanced countered his clumsy attack easy, his brutal force sending the frail-bodied fey crashing to his knees, blood streaming from his broken mouth.
“Don’t,” said Tara quickly when the necromanced took a menacing step forward. She lowered her sword.
“You’re not serious,” protested Horon, but the Fenman was already dropping his guard. “I knew we shouldn’t have brought that miserable creature with us.”
Tara ignored him. Surprisingly, it was Elita who refused to surrender the longest, the little gnome still gripping her daggers and ready to finish the fallen necromanced.
“You knew, Elder-Kin,” she said. “You must have known we were walking into a trap!”
The fey wiped his mouth shakily. “N-no—I—”
“Don’t lie!” snapped the gnome. “If we are going to die for you, at least tell the truth. You are a friend of the necromancer. You said he’s changed in the last few years, that he isn’t the same. How would you know this unless you work for him?”
The gnome stiffened, struggling at the binding spell the necromanced cast on her.
“Get up,” said the necromanced to the fey, collecting the companions’ weapons. “My master wishes to speak with you and these others together.”
UPDATED OBJECTIVE: ESCAPE WANDERER’S BANE
Optional Objective: Find the Battle Horn
The necromanced didn’t even flinch at the letters that appeared before them all. This time, Tara’s heart pounded, and she couldn’t hide her dismay.
“It’s not supposed to do that,” she gasped. “That’s not how the mission goes.”
“Wait!” Kell wasn’t paying attention to her, blocking the door out of the storeroom as if he could keep the necromanced from leaving. “You don’t understand. These are friends of mine. They aren’t strays or wanderers. They’re with me.”
The necromanced pushed him roughly aside. “Come. My master is impatient.”
***
They were forced to follow the necromanced, who were joined by additional guards waiting outside. Kell followed behind the companions, limping on an injured foot, but no one expressed any sympathy towards him. Even Tara was too preoccupied to think.
Is this because of me? she wondered. Kell was supposed to die. Should I have let the necromanced kill him? Would that have made everything right again?
The cave was cold and dim. The illumination in the stone halls was from softly glowing orbs that Tara suspected Narion Nightsong had enchanted. Dark elves were known for their love of light, and he must have missed the sun above ground.
Elita, sitting on Horon’s shoulders, refused to speak or look at anyone. The gnome was hunched and unhappy.
“We’ll be alright,” whispered Tara, trying to reassure her.
Elita didn’t even raise her head.
Their guard brought them to a wide cavern. Despite their situation, Tara couldn’t help being awed by the wondrous sight of the cave. Glittering rocks as sharp as dragon’s teeth hung above them, and strange glowing orbs floated and circled the open space freely. Their eerie light was reflected on the surface of a deep lake.
At the edge of the lake was a tall throne, and on that throne of stalactites and chipped blocks of stone sat Narion Nightsong.
Lightkin / Dark Elves
The dark elves are a mysterious race, living on the open Twin’s Eye Summit. They are skilled enchanters rather than warriors, although their magic is equal to that of the warlike Light Elves, the Shadowken. They gain strength from the light of the sun.
Stamina: 80
Strength: 100 (-20 in darkness, +20 in sunlight)
Intelligence: 110
Dexterity: 100
Magic: 200 (+50 in sunlight)
Special Skill: Blinding light - Lightkin are able to conjure light that blinds their enemies for a short period of time. Cost: 20% magic.
Narion Nightsong was a daunting figure, tall and black-robed, his dark hair loose and shadowing a narrow, almost skull-like face. In the years he had spent under ground, the natural color in his skin had paled to an ash-like gray. But his eyes gleamed with a fierce and dangerous energy, and when he saw the companions he rose.
“So you have come,” he said. “Welcome, Tara MacQueen—Last Hero of Allerion.”