by Sarah Lin
"Ooh, I have a better one! Bloodwraith, Bearer of the Only True Shovel!"
Growling, Bloodwraith tossed the next shovel of dirt directly at Danniah. She instinctively turned aside and shielded herself with one armored hand, laughing as the dirt scattered off her. "Hey! Meara started it, throw things at her!"
"It wouldn't work on her." Bloodwraith went back to digging and let it slide, but Danniah stopped, leaning against her shovel and looking between them.
"Actually, I was thinking... it's getting to be a pain to cart the rocks and dirt away. Couldn't we stick them into your handy bag?"
Bloodwraith shook his head. "It has finite space and rocks would fill it up quickly."
"Too bad you can't fit a cart in there. That would make things easier..."
Abruptly Meara stood up, walking over to the pile of rocks and examining it thoughtfully. She picked up one of the rocks and tucked it into her cloak, then smiled and picked up another one. "I think I can carry a lot more than the bag. Looks like I can help after all."
"Ooh, really? What if I..." Danniah heaved a shovel-full of rocks at Meara, but it passed through her.
"Sorry, I need to focus more to make it work."
"That's too bad. But it's neat that you can store the rocks! Why would that be?"
"I'm honestly not sure." Meara closed her eyes, growing distant for a moment. "I think it comes with being a shopkeeper... my job is to store items, no matter how many there are. That made sense when I was actually in a shop, but it doesn't make much sense when I'm on my own."
"Huh. Well, I'm not complaining!"
They settled back in to quiet work again, now shoveling into a pile that Meara made disappear into her cloak. Though she hadn't been able to answer the full question, Bloodwraith had a theory. All the changes made to the world by the beings from another realm were to simplify things, make life proceed a little more smoothly. Shopkeepers with unnatural inventory fell into that category, though he doubted the system was meant to be exploited as Meara used it.
Eventually they began hitting broken marble instead of simple stone. Bloodwraith channeled mana into his sword and struck downward a few times to break it up, then they began extracting the contents that had once been buried beneath the shrine.
Some of the objects had been destroyed by his forcefulness, but the money survived and any objects reinforced by magic remained intact. As it should be. Bloodwraith ran his eyes over each one as it was extracted, checking the "Rarity" as determined by the boxes. Most of it would be of limited value, useful mainly for selling - after his previous plan had nearly failed due to lack of funds, he never wanted to be that low on money again.
Finally at the bottom he found it: a sealed case carved from obsidian. The necromantic patterns were familiar to him, but it didn't take his level of expertise or intellect to figure that out: it had a skull inlaid in silver on the top.
[Necromancy Toolset (average quality)
A set of tools designed for necromantic rituals.
Rarity: Very Uncommon]
He eagerly traced his fingers over the unlocking ward...
[Unable to break ward!
Intellect level inadequate.
Wardcraft level inadequate.]
Bloodwraith sighed, unable to summon up any more anger at the boxes. They had been doing this since the beginning: though his mind felt unchanged in his new body, the boxes refused to believe he possessed intelligence or spellcraft skills. It seemed clear that they would continue doing so until his "Intellect statistic" increased.
Danniah patted him on the shoulder. "No luck unlocking it, huh?"
"No, but I expected as much. I can find someone else to unlock it for me."
"That could be tricky." Meara bent down beside them, examining the case. "Necromancy is illegal in Cresthaven and they actually take that law pretty seriously. With so many crypts nearby, a powerful necromancer could cause them a lot of problems."
Though Bloodwraith scoffed, he resisted the urge to remind them that a powerful necromancer was already present. "I wasn't going to carry it into the heart of the Adventurers Guild. I have an arrangement with Khassfhit - he'll unlock it for me." Bloodwraith tucked the case into his bag and looked toward Meara. "There's no way of knowing if this one contains all the supplies I need, though. Any luck finding any more near Cresthaven?"
"I'm starting to think I won't find any. We exhausted most of the valuable quests around here preparing for Daek, so there's just not much left."
"Speaking of that, did you sense anything else? Does this conclude our business here?"
"Yes, I believe it does." Abruptly Meara threw a hand over her forehead and swooned onto Danniah. "You have valorously completed my quest, mighty Bloodwraith! My loins ache at the thought of your bravery!"
While Danniah laughed, Bloodwraith waited for what really mattered: the box that made his success official.
[Quest Complete!
Found the buried treasure.
Local Reputation +10
EXP +2500]
Bloodwraith hadn't entirely figured out the quest notification boxes yet. He was certain that they still imparted a degree of real power, but he wasn't able to determine the exact amount. According to the numbers, the quest gave a pathetic quantity compared to fighting even simple wolves, but he knew the combat numbers were inflated. But were the quest values equally inflated?
Pushing the matter aside, Bloodwraith grabbed the swooning Meara and pulled her to her feet. "Then let's head back. If we hurry, we might be able to reach Cresthaven before nightfall."
That convinced them to stop making jests and join him: they'd spent enough days sleeping on uncomfortable ground that the idea of a bed was seductive. Yet as they collected their equipment and began to walk, Bloodwraith couldn't find much enjoyment in the idea.
Meara's words only confirmed what he had long been suspecting: Cresthaven held nothing more for him. Oh, he could have made some money completing minor Guild requests and collecting the profits Meara made selling potions. He could theoretically have basked in the praise he was given for "saving" the city from Daek the Knife, though that was more annoying than anything. In theory he could have increased his Adventurers Guild rank and made a life there.
But none of that tempted him for even an instant, not when he had once been known as the Corrupter of Worlds and Father to the Undead. He was never going to be satisfied resting on his laurels in some minor frontier city - it was beneath him.
Exactly what he wanted, however, remained unclear. Once, his goal had been to rebuild his undead army and conquer the world. Learning that the box gods had been manipulating the Master Lich left him uncomfortable with that goal. Even if he accomplished it, what was to say they would not simply send more people like Raigar out to stop him?
Everything was complicated by the fact that he had these two women as his companions. Though he was fairly certain that Meara would be agreeable to leading an undead army, he knew that conquering the land would horrify Danniah. She still had a very sunny view of him, despite everything.
"You're being real quiet, Bloodwraith," Meara said. "What's on your mind?"
"Would either of you object to leaving Cresthaven?"
They glanced at each other before Danniah shrugged and answered. "It's not like I made a home here, and you two are my best friends from Cresthaven anyway. But are you sure we're ready to move on?"
"I think we may need to. There's not enough for us here, not if I want to restore my magic."
"Then where?" Meara cast him a thoughtful glance. "Edsdam would be the obvious choice, since the boxes granted you so many quests there."
"I was thinking Manascas. Bigger city, more opportunities."
"Wow, Manascas?" Danniah chewed on her lower lip as she thought about that. "I never really imagined going that far, but it might be fun to visit. I've heard that it's dreadfully hot there - isn't that close to the desert? Or is it actually in the desert?"
"There's no clear line."
Bloodwraith didn't want them focusing on that for very long, so he pushed forward. "More importantly, it's an independent city, so there wouldn't be any prohibitions against necromancy. I've heard it's also very profitable for adventurers, so we could pay our way while we work."
Meara watched him and he wondered how much she suspected, but she answered lightly. "I'm not set on Edsdam, but I don't think it has any law against necromancy either. And again, I feel like there's some real weight to the quests there. They were probably designed to get you ready for fighting Daek, whereas we don't know anything about what we'd find in Manascas."
"That's another reason I'd rather go there. Following the path the boxes set out... something about it makes me uneasy. That path would probably be lined with rewards, yes, but there may be hidden costs. We still don't know exactly what they want, and until we understand that, I am uncomfortable accepting their gifts."
"Oh, that's a good point," Danniah said. The conversation moved on to what little they knew of the box gods and hypothetical plans for moving, but Bloodwraith only paid attention with part of his mind.
There was another reason he preferred to go to Manascas, one he didn't want to tell the others. Reaching Manascas would take him much closer to his old lair. From what little he'd heard of it, the crypt had been mostly abandoned ever since Raigar defeated the Master Lich. That meant it likely held his old equipment, not to mention a treasure trove of bones that could be transformed into a new army.
If he wanted to regain his old power, going back would be the easiest way. But in addition to the physical barriers in the way, Bloodwraith found himself dealing with doubts. He had never struggled with doubt as a lich, yet he couldn't cast the issues aside.
Would his companions accept that goal? Even with all his equipment, could he regain his former power, and would it mean giving up his new body? Could that damage his new power or alert the Outsiders who had reshaped his life?
Most importantly, what did he actually want? Bloodwraith pondered that question as they returned to the city, hoping that he would figure out the answer before he needed to make a decision he couldn't take back.
Chapter 2
The magical shops huddled together at one end of the adventurer's district. They were definitely outnumbered by the shops devoted to adventurers who preferred to chop or smash things. Cresthaven as a whole was not a particularly good place for mages.
During his first days in the city, Bloodwraith had barely visited at all, afraid that someone would recognize that he was not who he said he was. Recently he had spent more time there, mostly confirming that the shops lacked what he needed. Even if he could afford to purchase equipment to build up his magical skills again, it would take too long. No, he needed to regain his necromancy first.
That was why he headed past the large shops now, down a small alley. An old companion lived somewhere in this sprawl. Khassfhit was no great friend, just the mage he knew best in his new life. But working together briefly was enough to make an arrangement like this.
At last he found it, a rickety door reinforced by mana. It had an elegant ward on it that visitors could use to signal, but Raigar wouldn't know anything about that, so Bloodwraith just hammered on the door with one meaty hand. After long enough passed, Khassfhit opened the door a sliver. The drakekin peered at him silently for a time, spines on his head flexing.
"Do you actually have it? I don't have time if you're just here for questions."
"I have it." Bloodwraith tapped his Extra-dimensional Bag. "I won't be long."
"Always in a hurry." Khassfhit examined him thoughtfully, but in the end opened the door and ushered him into the cramped chambers.
Though his new body scraped against the shelves, Bloodwraith still felt more at home here. Dried animal skins, small gemstones, vials and potions... he was surrounded by the tools of a working mage. Though Khassfhit was no master, he was entirely competent, and that was far more than Bloodwraith could claim at the moment.
Khassfhit sat down at a small table, moving a pile of books to make space. He inclined his head toward the table, so Bloodwraith carefully removed the sealed case from his bag and set it down. His body tensed on instinct, as if prepared for Khassfhit to steal it. If the mage tried anything, he'd get a faceful of Rage.
Fortunately, Khassfhit didn't seem inclined to take or even touch it. He examined the case from all sides, the spines on his head lying flat against his bony skull. One finger traced through the air, testing the mana in a way that Bloodwraith could imitate only in memories. Finally the drakekin glanced up at him with a speculative look.
"It worth anything?" Bloodwraith added an extra grunt, but it didn't work. Khassfhit narrowed his eyes at him.
"I don't believe you're that stupid, Raigar. And it's clear you're not motivated by money, like most common adventurers."
"Can you open it? I did that favor for you so that you would take care of this kind of thing."
"Yes." Khassfhit sat back, setting his hands together. "I wonder if you didn't make that arrangement for this specific thing."
Bloodwraith growled like an impatient barbarian and picked up the case, turning to go. Khassfhit hastened to move forward, grabbing his wrist - though the mage's feeble limbs could hardly stop him. "Wait, Raigar. I'll fulfill the terms of our arrangement."
Setting the case back on the table, Bloodwraith folded his arms and scowled. With a sigh, Khassfhit set about disabling the wards that bound the box closed. Nothing so difficult, something that Bloodwraith could have done in a heartbeat in his real body, yet now he was forced to rely on others. Still, he found himself growing eager as the lock disappeared and the necromantic power within was finally available to him.
When he finished, Khassfhit touched the silver inlay. Before he could open the box, Bloodwraith lunged out on instinct, hand closing around his wrist. Khassfhit stared at him and tried to pull back, unsuccessfully.
After an uncomfortable pause, Bloodwraith coughed. "There's dark magic in there."
"Yes, I'd noticed." Khassfhit pulled his arm back and rubbed at his wrist. "I just wanted to verify the contents were intact. Magic can fade over time, even in a sealed case such as this."
"Don't care about that. Better not to mess with it." More importantly, he didn't want to let a single drop of the dark power within escape... or be stolen. Bloodwraith scooped up the case, using all his willpower not to open it and see if it contained everything he needed. He struggled to prevent his hand from trembling and instead shoved it carelessly back into his bag. His power was so close, but he had to hold back for now...
Khassfhit watched him for a time, then shook his head. "You're a smarter man than most realize, Raigar. Why take such a brutal profession?"
"That's... what men my size do, where I come from." Was that a reasonable backstory? Why would meat-headed oafs choose to take up swinging large pieces of metal, anyway? Bloodwraith just stared, sticking to his story and refusing to give anything until Khassfhit shrugged.
"Waste of potential. I certainly don't recommend that you do anything with the magic in that case, but you should consider augmenting your abilities with more than those barbarian skills."
"I'll... think about it."
"I'd be willing to help you. Ever since Rhil'lahan's group fell apart, I've struggled to find another group of reasonable allies. In the short term, your physical force would certainly be useful."
Bloodwraith blinked in surprise and seriously considered the offer. Though Khassfhit was likely only trustworthy to a limited degree, he was a mage, which was something their group desperately needed. The question would be whether or not he would interfere with Bloodwraith's attempts to restore his necromantic power. It couldn't be hidden from him, not without serious precautions...
"You must be getting tired of relying on Danniah. Yes, the girl is easily manipulated, but she's dumber than a broken golem. And so annoying..."
The old Bloodwraith wanted to grab Khassfhit by the neck and scream that he
had no right to speak of Danniah that way. But even as he resisted the impulse, he found himself questioning it. No, the old Bloodwraith would have despised Danniah in exactly the same way. He wasn't sure what he was now, couldn't be sure if the changes represented a loss of himself or the acquisition of something new.
In any case, he was standing awkwardly and not answering the question. Eventually Bloodwraith managed a shrug. "She's not so bad."
"Fine." Khassfhit threw up his hands and sat back. "If you don't want to talk, I won't force it. But consider my offer, okay? And whatever you do, don't go opening that case in the city. I'm not risking it somehow getting back to me, and we mages don't need the trouble."
"Okay." Bloodwraith grunted and turned to go. "Thanks."
As he left Khassfhit's small room and wound his way back through the alleys, Bloodwraith struggled to resist opening the case. Some necromancer of years long past had stored it away in preparation for a new life that never occurred. It would contain not only tools of the trade, but spells and potions that would help develop true necromantic power.
Or so he hoped. Only three things prevented him from sating his curiosity right that moment:
First, if there really were monitoring spells, it could cause him more trouble than it was worth.
Second, necromancy was not something that could be learned or restored in even a few days.
Third and most importantly, he was Bloodwraith, Father to the Undead! He could maintain basic impulse control.
Still, the case lurked in the corners of his mind as he made his way through the city. Soon enough he would finally sate his curiosity and take his first step back on the road to true power. But for now, he needed to resolve things in Cresthaven properly instead of rushing through them.
When he returned to the main streets occupied by adventurers, many waved or nodded to him. A few simpletons even cheered. Bloodwraith nodded back, seething on the inside. The petty approval of such simpering fools disgusted him. There were rumors that bards had developed a song about his defeat of the drake, and if they sung it in his presence, the streets would run red with blood.