by Dean Henegar
Despite knowing that healing magic may damage the undead, the cabal hoped to bury the sisters under huge swarms of low-level skeletons and zombies. The sisters’ healing auras melted every force of skeletons and zombies the cabal sent against them. Eventually the cabal was forced to hire a band of living mercenaries in a bid to destroy the sisterhood once and for all.
The mercenaries attacked the clifftop retreat relentlessly. The few guards defending the order stood against the superior numbers of their foes for many days, kept alive by the healing auras of the sisters. Eventually the relentless attacks overcame the defenders and the mercenaries began the slaughter of the sisters. Seeing no other way to preserve their order, the sisters turned to dark forces for their salvation.
Their healing spells were turned into forces of corruption. Auras that once healed now slowly rotted the attackers. The attackers were eventually defeated, leaving only the abbess of the order as the sole survivor.
The abbess soon found that pacts with dark forces come at a steep price. She was not able to turn off the necromantic energies now flowing through her medallion; her auras that once healed her now slowly rotted her from within. She used the last of her power to stop the corruption emitting from her medallion. Her efforts came too late and the abbess died half way through the cleansing process. The necromancers were overjoyed. The grounds of the retreat had become saturated with necromantic energy, allowing the cabal to raise the sisters as powerful undead specters. The medallion of the abbess now holds equal measure of light and corruption.
The Panacea allows the wielder to once per day change their healing spells into ones that cause necromantic corruption. The wielder must turn the face of the corrupted side of the medallion outward and will suffer constant necromantic damage themselves until they turn the medallion back to the polished side. The medallion can only switch modes once every minute . . . leaving the wielder with a difficult choice and the potential of their own death. This legendary item is soulbound and scales with the wielder’s level, eventually increasing the number of uses per day as well as lowering the cooldown required to switch back and forth. Other unknown abilities may be unlocked as the wielder reaches higher levels.
“Oooohh, Kathala, that one’s cool but kind of creepy,” Yendys said as she read the medallions history.
“That’s true, Yendys, but there may come a time when we need dps more than healing. Thank you for the gift, Query,” Kathala stated. Query nodded in response to the thanks and motioned Yendys forward to receive her reward. Query reached into the storage dimension and handed a bracelet made of insect chitin over to the curious halfling. Turning the bracelet over in her hands, Yendys watched as the item’s history was displayed.
Band of the Swarm Lord: This mysterious, legendary item was originally created by the Druid Samnul the Despised. Samnul was ostracized by many because of his unique choice of animal companions. Samnul favored creatures that others found offensive. His main companions were a dire skunk as well as a giant stink bug. Unfortunately for those around him, the stench of Samnul’s animal companions increased as their size and level increased. Samnul thought his choice of companions would deter enemies from attacking him in the first place. Instead of deterring attacks, his companions drove his village to demand that he leave the area. The villagers wanted to be rid of the stench that permeated the area and hampered trade. Samnul refused to be separated from his companions and left the area peacefully.
Samnul decided to join an adventuring party to find his fortune. Predictably, no party wanted to have a druid with such odiferous companions. Samnul decided to set out on his own to defeat local dungeons with only his smelly companions as support. His creatures were constantly killed, leaving Samnul to spend years developing a way to help keep his companions in the fight longer. The Band of the Swarm Lord was the successful result of his efforts. Samnul acquired many other animal companions during this time, equipping all with a band to improve their usefulness. Samnul went on to have a very successful career as a solo adventurer, eventually meeting his end when fighting a group of ethereal undead that his animal companions were unable to damage. The bands were lost to time, though a few turn up now and again in various treasure troves.
The Band of the Swarm lord is soulbound item and cannot be lost upon the death of the wielder. The band must be worn by a druid’s animal companion. Upon reaching zero health, the animal companion will not die, but instead will separate into multiple smaller copies of itself. The number of copies and their effectiveness depends on the level of the player, the creature type, and the creature’s total health pool. The band can only be activated once per day. This item scales with player level and new abilities may unlock at higher levels.
“Cool! We’re going to have fun with this one, Crunchy!” Yendys shouted as she placed the band over the unicorn beetles’ horn. The band automatically sized to fit, changing its color to match that of Crunchy. Query then waved Nitor forward.
“Little human, you have done well this day. I have known a few skalds in my time and have the perfect reward,” Query said as he pulled a scroll from his storage and handed it to Nitor. The item description and history appeared on everyone’s interface.
Jurgen’s Harsh Words: This scroll was a collection of words of power originally researched by the skald Jurgen. Jurgen came from a warlike tribe that valued strength and military prowess over all other things. Jurgen was physically small and frail, eventually being driven from his tribe by those who felt his weakness was an affront to the strength of the tribe. Jurgen wandered the lands on the brink of starvation before being rescued by a troupe of entertainers. Here Jurgen found his calling, developing deep friendships with the other performers as he developed into a powerful skald. Jurgen’s chants enlivened the show, building emotions in the crowd based on the chant selected.
While on the road, the troupe was attacked and many of the performers, including Jurgen, were taken captive. The captors turned out to be Jurgen’s original tribe, and the captors showed nothing but disdain for their weak castoff. Jurgen was forced to watch as the only friends he ever knew were slowly tortured and killed for the entertainment of his captors.
The night that Jurgen was chosen to be the “entertainment” for his old tribe, the skald began a chant. The tribe laughed at the skalds power, making fun of his feeble attempts. The laughing stopped when, during his chant, Jurgen uttered the name of one of the tortured members of the troupe. The force of the victim’s name being uttered severed the head from one of his captors. The tribe looked about in confusion, not sure what was happening. More and more names were included in the chant, opening horrific wounds in the bodies of the tribesmen. Eventually, only one tribesman was left, and the physically strong warrior cowered and begged for mercy. Jurgen just turned about and walked off into the night, leaving the last tribesman alive to tell the tale.
Harsh Words is a legendary item. This scroll, once read, will impart the knowledge of various names of power that can be included in a skalds chant. Once every minute while chanting, the skald can insert a name of power, delivering a powerful attack to a single target. The word selected will determine the type of damage dealt. The damage scales with the skald’s level and cannot be avoided. As the skald levels they will unlock new words of power to create different types of damage or effects. The scroll is soulbound and cannot be lost on death of the player.
“Thank you, great Query. I could not have asked for a more generous gift. What will you do now that you are free?” Nitor asked, curious as to what the sphinx’s plans were.
“I have a lich to find and punish for my centuries of imprisonment!” Query roared in anger, causing the party to cower.
“Hold a moment, Query. I am sad to tell you that your revenge has already been meted out against the lich. My knowledge of history tells me there was another King Lorn that led the people of Denlon several generations after the first was killed. King Lorn the Lichbane rose to power several generations after your impriso
nment. He had his people pool resources to hire a wise sage from a distant land to scry the location of the lich’s phylactery. A strong band of adventurers, led by the new King Lorn himself, were able to deliver the final death to Fadrix. The lich has been dead for over one hundred years a descendant of Lorn the Lichbane even now sits on the throne of Denlon,” Nitor advised the sphinx. Query had a flash of anger cross his face and his eyes glazed over as the sphinx sought the truth of Nitor’s words. After a few moments his search was complete, and the sphinx looked down at the party, shaking his head.
“I suppose the relative of Lorn had as much right to destroy the lich as I had. Perhaps I will visit the latest descendent of the old king and see what kind of man his progeny has turned out to be. Farewell adventurers,” Query stated before being interrupted by a new voice.
“Oy, what about me? I’ve lost me friend when you wacked his ‘ead off and I didn’t get no reward!” the forgotten dwarven pathfinder shouted up at Query.
“Insolent dwarf, how about I give you the same reward I gave your friend!” Query sternly said while brandishing one of his three-foot-long claws. The dwarf visibly shook in fear the display.
“No thank ye, sir. I’ll just be about me way, sorry for the interruption,” the pathfinder said as he fled down the tunnel toward the surface.
The party began the walk back to the surface, yet Yendys turned and trotted back to Query, whispering in a conspiratorial manner.
“Hey, I know you were a bit of a cheaty-face when you said my answer was correct . . . but . . . thanks!” Query looked at the little halfling briefly before replying in what must have passed as a whisper for a forty-foot-tall sphinx.
“I did perhaps stretch the definition of an answer, but you did say the words in the correct order . . . and I was tired of being trapped in this place,” Query winked as he slowly faded from view, teleporting to some unknown location.
***
“What gives, Nitor? How did you know all that stuff about the lich and everything? For a minute there I thought you were making it up and we were all about to be eaten,” Yendys demanded as the party proceeded down the tunnel.
“Yeah, sorry about that, it’s the beauty of the skald class and the Echoes of the Past ability. I may not be able to cut three people in half with a sword blow, but I am able to make a knowledge check to learn about events in history. I’ll try to warn you guys next time it happens and share my quest screen.”
Back on the surface, Yendys found the others explaining to Rollox what had happened. Rollox sent a pair of pathfinders to recover the body of their fallen comrade. The dwarf cursed up a storm at the sphinx, despite letting the party know that the fallen dwarf was a hothead that had gotten himself killed for his stupidity.
“Will you be waiting for Ty to return before continuing on?” Rollox asked. The party thought for a moment before Jacoby answered.
“I think we’re on a bit of time crunch. Do you know if the crossroads where the original town of Hayden’s Knoll was destroyed leads to a road east and toward the zone of Bharga’s Crossing?” Jacoby asked. Rollox considered for a moment before replying.
“Aye, that road should head north to some small town full of humans. Never had any cause to interact with the town there . . . think they’re called Holdpast or Holdfast or some such. From what I remember, the road branches east at the town. The town was probably built there due to the fact it was on a crossroads. The road leads east with some old unused trail heading west. I would think east would lead to a second transition point, but no telling for sure,” Rollox advised the party.
“If we head back to the main road and then move north, we should be close to the town about the time Ty joins back up with us. It’s kind of backtracking, but it’s safer to follow the roads in most games,” Jacoby said.
“I agree. I’m sure we all wouldn’t mind grinding out some fights along the way, but the quest did state it was time sensitive. Everyone good heading that route?” Nitor asked. Everyone nodded in agreement and began to head back toward the crossroads.
“Good luck to you all! Let Ty know I’ll have a reward for him saving my sorry hide the next time I see him,” Rollox said as his band began the march back to the Stonehold Mines.
Chapter 17
I came back to consciousness chained to the back of the prison wagon. The reality of my situation hit me as the AI resumed bolstering my damaged mind. The wagons jolted to a stop, and looking up at the sky, I could tell it was too early for our noon break. Galba came by our wagon, flanked by four of his guards.
“Why are we stopping early, Galba?” I queried. The door to the prisoner cage was unlocked and I questioned what was happening while Galba unlocked the shackles holding both me and Wrend.
“Septimus wants to talk to you. Something to do with the supplies, that’s all I know,” Galba replied. We were marched to the front wagon, inside which Septimus rode. I caught a glimpse of the opulence inside his own wagon as the lanista stepped out of it. Red velvet padded seats stood in for the rough wooden benches that the guards rode on. There were carafes of wine, finger foods, and what looked like an ornate hookah, as well. Septimus clapped his hands together as he spoke; his fake upbeat method of speech was beginning to grate on me.
“Ah, the valiant captain and his loyal retainer, we have something to discuss and I would like your input,” Septimus began before hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand in an “I’m and idiot” gesture. “My apologies, I am remiss in my duties as a host. Here, enjoy some refreshment while we talk.” Septimus reached into the wagon and passed the tray of appetizers to Wrend. Neither of us needed any encouragement and we dug into the well-made food. The appetizer consisted of thin pieces of ham wrapped around various savory cheeses. They were delicious, and I noted the jealous glances that Galba shot our way as we ate; apparently, the leader of the guards didn’t warrant the same food we were suspiciously enjoying.
“Now that you are enjoying your repast, I must bring up our current predicament. As you know, our food supply is dangerously low and there is not enough to last the entire caravan until we reach Shraza. Normally I would take the chance of cutting many of the prisoners free to relieve us of the burden of feeding them, but my financial well-being depends on the lot of you performing well in battle and with sufficient numbers to make the spectacle worth of the coin I will seek,” Septimus said, reaching into his wagon to retrieve a wine skin. While he was doing that, I passed the tray quickly to Galba and the other guards, each taking the chance and grabbing one of the appetizers. Galba nodded his head in my direction and then snapped back as Septimus turned. Septimus guzzled the wine, yet didn’t offer any to the rest of us.
“There is a tribe of creatures nearby that may offer us succor. I have dealt with them in the past and I believe they still have a positive opinion of myself, as they rightly should, given the deals I generously gave them previously. They could easily supply us with the victuals to complete our journey, but there is a cost,” Septimus paused before delivering the bad news.
“Our hosts, a race called the Ssarn, are not normally hospitable to other humanoids. As a rule, they kill them on sight and consume any who venture into their territory. Now, I believe my dealings with them in the past will stay their hand initially and let us speak with their leader . . . but he is an irritable-sort and will want something in return. When he hears I have brought gladiators, he will want to test his warriors against us . . . and, of course, consume us all if you fail.” Septimus looked nervous.
“Should you fail in the fight, there is a good chance we all will be the featured dish at their evening meal. Do you think your new troops are ready, Raytak? Can you beat an equal number of foes, given their weapons if not their levels are better than yours? Our only other option is to slow our pace even further and try to forage as we go, though this land is not the best for that, leaving us all facing starvation once more.” Septimus waved toward the desert-like terrain we were on. There seemed to be no choice,
though anything that worried Septimus should worry me as well. Still, I was confident in my abilities and in the growing abilities of my troops.
“Get us something close to a fair fight and we’ll crush anything set against us,” I offered. Septimus clapped his hands in excitement.
“That’s the can-do spirit I know and love in my gladiators. We should be in the Ssarn lands soon. Once in their territory it will not be long before they notice us,” Septimus said before taking back his tray of appetizers and waving us away dismissively. Galba returned us to the prison wagon and the caravan began on its way. The road turned from an unkept Imperium side road to hard packed sand as we headed toward our destination. Whoever traveled this way didn’t do so often enough to even leave much sign of passage.
After we changed roads, Galba came to the wagon, letting us know there would be no getting out to exercise from this point until we met the Ssarn. The risk of them interpreting the men as a threat was too great. I noticed the guard riding up front in our wagon put away all visible weapons, storing them under the wagon seat. About thirty minutes into our journey on the sandy road, I heard a commotion at the front of the caravan. There was a short scream and then we began on our way again. The position of the cage and the wooden plank serving as the driver’s seatback prevented me from seeing anything. As we passed where the front of the wagon had been, I spotted a large bloodstain on the sand, insects already swirling around it to feast.
“What’s going on up there?” I asked our driver. A panicked look crossed the face of the guard sitting next to him.
“The Ssarn just took one of the guards for their snack, now shut up! Speak and you’ll get us all killed,” the driver whispered sharply to me. Wrend and the other prisoners began to look nervous, everyone straining to see what was happening. As evening approached, the wagons pulled to a stop in a large line. Voices were heard heading toward us, Septimus and another hissing voice chatting together.