An ancient cavern filled with ancient beings.

Whispers of madness spread throughout a corrupted land with soil that oozed souls.

We had entered from a canyon descent and followed the river North through an area that descended from plains into a thick marsh with a gloomy smog that transformed lanterns into a liability.

A heavy mood set amongst men prepared for the worst of times.

Our caravan was full and equipped with gear of the lowest tier but of the highest echelon.

These lower end purples and higher end blues made it so that our gear would meet the minimum requirements of max-level raids.

The highest peaks of our realms.

What our ancestors refered to as [End Game].

At one point in time this realm was just a game to them.

That point was short lived.

Past the marshes lay a Lich's graveyard which if entering the tomb will lead into Shelly's Laboratory.

Shelly being a demented sorceress who created the Lich out of a forsaken love for her forlorn lover.

Only Five guilds had ever raided the lower chambers in which Shelly rests.

Three being successful, the rest whiping.

Mercy and his Silver Hawks being the only ones who had farmed the raid.

Leaving them as the only Guild possessing, Shelly's Bolt.

A necromancer drop that is by far, the best in slot offhand for the class.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Necromancers were few and far between. It was an ancient art that only a few ancestors had been gifted in.

Some sorceress had the prowess and potential to become necromancers, but then came the problem of scarcity of gear to make the class swap worthwhile.

Currently our guild holds no necromancers but a few fledgling sorcs and warlocks with the potential to one day grow into one.

Our sights were set on that drop.

If we could harness the power of a geared necromancer, our presence would only grow and our clears that much smoother.

Along the wagon ride we traversed a land with only moons.

The sun had forever disappeared after leaving the Stone Peaks.

We were entering the zone of sinister magic, the kind of power which harnesses blood and sacrifices of the flesh.

My skin crawled as we crept along the torn land.

Limbs of every kind and of creatures unknown reached out as if grasping for our ankles.

I thank the Gods for allowing wagons along this land.

Tis the land of men that morph into abominations.

Wilder said the to the new recruit.

I heard this is were ever sub class originates. The werewolves and the vamps and the necromancers all spawn from here.

The one recruit responded eagerly.

Have ye ever met a werewolf, boy.

Replied Brutus as he smacked the recruit with a light slap to the back of the head.

He took it well.

Some men, the ones that don't last, with the egos that hurt, wouldn't have smiled the way he did. They wouldn't have seen the affection in the smack.

They would have missed out on the affection that keeps guilds strong.

Well, no. But I've heard of shape shifters.

Replied the recruit as he gingerly rubbed the back of his head.

Brutus interrupted before the boy could catch his wind.

Ya probably heard of a story involving a druid or a shaman with ancestral roots. They are rare, hell, they are rare enough to make you think they are indeed werewolves.

But they ain't them.

Werewolves are a monstrous breed. It is not a choice on their end.

Instincts take over the person.

They are more wolf than man.

More feral.

More ferocious.

If ya see a werewolf boy, you run to one of us and hope to the Gods the captain is around.

At my inclusion in the conversation I turned my face to the boy and gave him a warm smile that conflicted with our current surroundings.

We were wayward souls amongst graves long forgotten.

Apparitions which once held aspirations and now can hold nothing at all flew through the stoney grounds in search for their lost souls.

Wails filled the air.

Spirits began to drop.

It's time, I shouted.

Our enchanters stood from their positions, one placed on each wagon of our caravan.

Glowing bright as a summer's day, they brought sunlight to a land of darkness.

Lifting the spirits of our men.

This was only the first phase.

The trek across the valley of death lay ahead.

Shelly's laboratory beyond that.

Diablo at every possible corner.

This was our first test as a raiding guild.

We had to pass.

This was larger than do or die.

The hope of the realm's people rested on our shoulders.

Nothing weighed heavier than hope.