by Aleron Kong
What lay beyond the wall of faces was a walkway of grey metal only twenty yards across. It extended nearly a hundred yards past the wall. To either side was only open air and a sheer drop into the abyss. At the end of the walkway, he could see the lich. Both of the magi’s hands were upraised and tethers of green eldritch flame connected his fingers to the swirling ball of energy in front of the statue of the Exile. Richter quickly told his friend what he’d seen.
“Two imbued arrows? Blow his ass off the walkway?” the sprite asked.
“Shake and Bake, el diablo.” Then Richter cast Weak Haste, bent down so Sion could jump on his back and they were off!
The chaos seed ran as quickly as he could, every step letting him glide for three seconds. When his coasting time elapsed, he pushed off the air itself, his stamina dropping much further now that he was carrying another two hundred pounds of sprite. Richter just ran faster, knowing he might only have four or five jumps before his feet touched the ground and ensured an almost certain death.
Richter’s heart thudded the entire time, but they made it to the wall. He steeled himself for when his feet finally touched down in the doorway, praying there wasn’t a trap. Though they landed heavily - he had run out of stamina on the last jump - they managed to land in one piece.
The chaos seed lay panting on the ground, wishing he’d invested more points into Endurance.
“Get up!” Sion whispered to him tersely. The sprite had one eye on the lich, but the magus hadn’t turned around. Singh seemed completely focused on the ritual he was performing.
Richter glared at his friend and whispered back, “You have no idea how hard what I just did was! Do you have a stamina potion or what?”
The sprite glared back, but tossed Richter a vial filled with green liquid. “That’s the last one. I don’t have any more health or mana either.”
The chaos seed downed the potion and felt strength return to his limbs. A moment before, he had felt like he’d sprinted a marathon. Now he just felt like he’d boxed a heavyweight, and lost. Sion helped him to his feet and both men unhitched their bows. Arrows nocked, they began to imbue. Gold light sprung into existence around Richter’s exactly three seconds after a blue aura surrounded Sion’s. They both poured almost their entire mana pool into the blows, relying on this opening salvo to overcome and destroy the distracted lich. Seconds later, they released.
Twin bolts of energy trailed through the air, converging on the undead lord. They homed in, their aim perfect. The shots promised sure death to their enemy… a promise that was never delivered.
Twenty feet from the eldritch caster, the imbued arrows struck a spell barrier. A moment later, they both learned the folly of attacking a prepared Mage. Not only did the shield stop their shots, but the power of their imbued arrows was reflected back. It had taken less than a second for the arrows to fly down the fifty-yard walkway. The energy was trapped by the shield for another scant moment, which was just enough time for the two friends to make eye contact. Richter’s gaze was startled and angry, but Sion’s only held a sorrowful apology.
Then the force of their magic shot back into them and they were both flung through the air. The magical riposte slammed them back into the wall of faces and Richter’s helmet was the only thing that saved him from a skull fracture. It didn’t save him from a concussion. As he slid to the ground, his vision was blurry and he couldn’t remember what had happened only a second before. Sion wasn’t so lucky. His enhanced sprite armor saved him from a great deal of damage, but the damage he put into his shots was much greater than Richter’s. Sion just lay on the ground, smoke curling from his body and blood pooling on the ground beneath him.
Richter’s wits began to return to him a few seconds later when he heard unhurried footsteps. Raising his head, his eyes swept over Sion’s prone form and he wanted to weep. He kept turning his head though and saw the lich walking towards them. The creature’s head was wizened and dry like old parchment, just as Richter had seen it before. Thoughts began to form in his addled mind. It was coming to finish them off. It was coming to kill Sion!
The chaos seed could taste blood in his mouth, but he still managed to bare his teeth, “You think you’ve won, but you haven’t. Some friends want to say hi!” Then he grasped the glowing coin he had kept in his belt pouch for quite a while. The coin that had been handed to him by a ghost girl what felt like forever ago.
Krista, he thought, please help us.
The spirit was true to her word. The coin grew blazing hot until Richter had to drop it. It fell to the ground, bouncing twice before it lay still. The lich stopped walking, staring at the small glowing disc. A moment later, dozens of spirits flew free of the item, howling as they saw the lich standing only two dozen yards away. The ghost of a small girl wearing a simple white shift looked Richter in the eye. Krista’s expression was anything but childlike. The malevolent rage he saw there was truly frightening to behold. Her voice was ethereal and howling, “We hold your oath fulfilled. Now witness the final death of this monster!”
With that pronouncement, more than fifty spirits of pure white light screamed towards the lich. Their fingers grew long and pointed and their shrieks of anger and rage even drowned out the sounds of battle happening on the lower floors of the Mausoleum. The lich stood, unmoving, until the spirits were within ten feet of him. Then, the large green jewel in his staff flashed and the angry wails of the phantoms morphed into shrieks of fear.
The leading ghost was sucked into the gem, followed by another and another. A vortex of neon green light began pulling all of Krista’s army into the jewel. Not one of the spirits was able to reach the lich to enact their vengeance. Richter’s last sight of the glowing white spirits was Krista herself looking at him and clawing the air in a vain attempt to escape. Her face was pure, beseeching panic. Her mouth opened to say something, but then she was gone, exiled to whatever new hell the lich damned the spirits to suffer.
Singh started walking towards him again, and Richter heard a dry, rasping sound. It took a second for his addled mind to realize that the lich was laughing at him. With a wave of the magi’s hand, green flame washed over the caster’s body. It flashed out of existence soon after, leaving behind what appeared to be a living body, the body the lich had had before his ‘ascendance.’ It was with a measured and educated voice that Singh asked, “Is that the extent of your power?”
Richter stared into the face of his enemy and shouted, “No!” with blood spilling over his lips and all the while thinking ‘shit!’ because it was. At least, it had been the least insane plan that he had to kill the bastard. What he had to do next… it wasn’t what would be thought of as classically smart. Those plans would have to wait until he could fight back the pain and debilitating nausea enough to move though. In the meantime, he examined the transformed body of the undead that had threatened the lives of every creature in the forest.
The lich’s dried skin was gone. Now, he looked like a strong man in his forties. His skin was bronze and his hair was a thick black mane that was pulled tight into a braid that hung past his shoulders. The lips were thin and severe, and he regarded the chaos seed with a harsh and dispassionate glare. The lich was only four feet tall and the chaos seed couldn’t help but notice that Singh looked remarkably like a sprite. It was the cruel look in his eyes that really grabbed Richter’s attention though. The stare deepened and a combat warning flashed into his vision.
You are under psychic assault! The lich Singh is attempting to force a psychic connection.
Richter felt a panic he’d never known before. Pain was one thing. He had already endured plenty of that. Death wasn’t even something he completely feared anymore. He’d been killed twice before. He might be reborn if it happened again. The lich had already almost broken into his mind before though. Richter knew that even with his defenses, he was no match for the ancient magi in a Thought battle. While death of the body was horrible, he couldn’t imagine a worse fate than the lich burning his mind aw
ay. Richter shut his eyes tight and looked to the side.
All he heard was the not so distant clash of battle for several seconds. Then Singh spoke, “Hmmm. I never forget the taste of a mind. You wish to keep me outside of yours, but I still recognize you from that barest glimpse. You are the man who spied upon my orders to Nien. I believe you are also the one who witnessed the ascension of my death knight Jorgen.”
The lich paused before continuing, “I did not know the significance so many years before, but I understand Thought magic so much better now that I have unlocked the eldritch form of it.” A smooth hand slid along Richter’s cheek in almost a caress. “I am so happy that you accepted my invitation.”
Invitation? He had no idea what Singh was talking about so he just kept his eyes screwed shut. Then he heard the sound of footsteps walking away to the right. Then he heard a grunt of pain, “This man I do not know, and yet…” Richter heard another grunt of pain, and couldn’t bear to keep his eyes shut any longer. Singh was holding Sion by the throat. The lich’s staff, with its giant emerald head stood upright on its own nearby. Belying the undead’s small size, the sprite’s feet were dangling off of the ground. There wasn’t even a tremor in Singh’s arm as Sion struggled feebly to free himself. Red blood continued to flow from beneath his armor and was landing with a pat pat on the cold metal floor.
The lich reached out a finger and dipped it into Sion’s blood. Slowly and deliberately, he placed that finger in his mouth. Singh’s eyes closed in pleasure, like a man tasting a fine wine, then his eyes opened in surprise. He spoke in a language that Richter had not heard before, “Blood of my blood.”
Your Gift of Tongues Ability has identified a new Language: Archaic Sprite
“Let him go,” Richter shouted weakly. “I’m warning you.” He tried to stand, but collapsed back to the ground in a wave of vertigo. The chaos seed vomited onto the rooftop, splashing his hands, but he still heard Singh’s response.
“You are in a position to warn me of nothing, sir. I, on the other hand, am in a position to do… anything.” Richter picked his head up, filth lining his mouth, and looked at Sion. His friend met his eyes, face turning purple and struggling to get free. Singh said nothing else before he flung his arm out to the side, throwing Sion with unnatural strength. The sprite slid along the grey metal of the roof, scrambling for a handhold. His body moved beyond the edge and fell into the abyss.
“No! God, no!” Richter screamed. Strength flooded his pain-wracked body and he surged to his feet. In a move that was smooth and practiced, he drew his elementum short sword and threw it forward as hard as he could. The enchanted green blade flew true. Singh barely had time to react before the blade pierced his body and two feet of forged metal pierced his chest.
Richter felt a surge of triumph and vindication… before the lich calmly looked down at the weapon. With deliberate care, Singh grabbed the hilt, wrapping one finger around it at a time. Once he had a firm grip, he coolly slid the weapon out of his body. The plate-sized emerald in his staff flashed as the weapon was removed, but not one drop of blood or ichor fell. The wound healed as soon as the blade was free.
Singh did not look at all bothered by the attack and Richter fell to his knees. His body was racked with pain and the internal bleeding he’d suffered from the rebound of his imbued arrow was worsening. That was nothing compared to the pain in his heart though. With his head hanging low, he heard the lich’s steady and unhurried footsteps again. The image of Sion’s body going over the edge replayed in his mind, but he still couldn’t ignore the lich’s disapproving tone.
“Elementum. Truly remarkable. You have found one of the most magically active metals in existence.” There was nothing but scorn in Singh’s next words, “And you turned it into a sharp stick.”
There was a clatter of metal on metal as the lich tossed the blade to ground, discarding it like trash. Richter’s body and soul were drowning in pain, but he would not just kneel before this thing! His mana pool was still almost completely empty, but he was not out of tricks. Raising one arm, he sighted on the lich’s body, being careful to avoid eye contact. With a snarl, he released the spell saved in his Ring of Spell Storage.
Invisible rings of sonic force shot forth. They washed over Singh and the lich bowed slightly like he was walking into a heavy wind. That was all the chaos seed’s surprise attack accomplished. Singh merely reached a hand out and his staff slid into his hand. The emerald flashed again and a bubble of neon green light sprang into existence. The lich stood unconcerned once again. Ripples played across the surface showing the sonic waves that were issuing from Richter’s ring, but besides making the lich hesitate for the first second, there was no other effect.
In despair, Richter used Analyze, praying that it would show some clue of how to defeat the man.
Name: Singh
Race: Lich Sprite
Level: ???
Disposition: ???
STATS
Health: ???
Mana: ???
Stamina: ???
ATTRIBUTES
Strength: ???
Agility: ???
Dexterity: ???
Constitution: ???
Endurance: ???
Intelligence: ???
Wisdom: ???
Charisma: ???
Luck: ???
SKILLS
???
DESCRIPTION
This lich was once a sprite
The status screen was the same neon green as the lich’s eldritch magic. Richter couldn’t care less about the aesthetics of the window. There was nothing here that could help him. He couldn’t even tell if his attack had removed a single point of health. Worse, the window showed even less information than the mauler had, and the Labyrinth beast was level ninety-two! The only thing of interest was the description, saying Singh had once been a sprite. That, coupled with the ‘blood of my blood’ comment, was interesting, but didn’t help him now. Richter’s gaze switched to the lich’s weapon in desperation. The vampires had advised destroying the staff, but for the first time, even Richter’s Identification Talent was stymied.
You have found:
Staff of Kungor
Attack: ???
Durability: ???
Item Class: Artifact
Weapon Type: Staff, One-handed
Quality: ???
Weight: ???
Traits:
A powerful artifact created with otherworldly knowledge.
???
???
???
???
Requirements: Can only be used by a disciple of the Exile Rakshasha
Charges: ???
All he knew was that the thing connected Singh to the Exile somehow. The ‘otherworldly knowledge’ basically implied the same thing. The only other information was that the staff was an artifact. Unfortunately, his inspection hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“You are quite vexing,” the lich admonished in a his now-cultured voice. He grabbed Richter by the neck in the same way he had choked Sion. The chaos seed was pulled to his feet, but the lich was not tall enough to lift him off the ground. That didn’t keep Richter from choking as Singh tightened his grip with the strength of the undead. The lich examined the chaos seed’s armor and seemed amused by the Life enchantments. After that, Singh unhurriedly removed Richter’s weapons from their sheaths, tossing them to the ground. The undead’s eyes lingered on Black Ice for a moment, but he cast even the Named weapon to the side without much interest. He did this with an arrogant detachment and spoke the entire time.
“When I lived above ground, it was seen as extremely poor manners to use magic on another without permission. I suppose not much could ever be expected of a human, however. It sickens me to see one of my descendants fighting alongside one such as you.” His next words were almost sad, and were accompanied by a regretful shake of his head, “How far they have fallen without my guidance.”
The lich continued disarming Richter as he spoke. “Des
pite your lack of good manners, I can understand the desire to know more. A thirst for knowledge is something that you and I share. I imagine your feeble skill did not show you much. Let me show you how it is done. Nothing can hide from the Eye of Kungor.”
Richter had screwed his eyes shut again, not wanting to risk a psychic link, but he could still see neon-green light seeping through his eyelids as Singh brought the jeweled staff closer to his face. The light penetrated and violated him. Not his mind, but his very soul. His spirit recoiled from the foul invasion. It only lasted moments, but to Richter, he felt as if he had been forced to swim through a river of filth for days.
“Ah,” the lich exclaimed. “You are indeed the Master of the Mists. A young Master to be sure, but a Master nonetheless. Your progenitors offered me all manner of trouble in the past centuries. Time, it seems, will haunt even an immortal. Yet,” Singh spoke speculatively, “your Mastery is not the most important thing to know about you. You are not of this world. Your mind and soul were taken from your home and placed in The Land. You are a,” the undead paused again as if tasting the words, “chaos seed… and you have a form of immortality yourself. Not true immortality, but you can be reborn.”
Singh continued, like he was reading a list, “You have done much in the five months you have been here. More than should be possible for a lowly human. I wonder…. Yes! You do have truly interesting abilities, young Master. Limitless. I will rip that free of your soul before the end. I thank you now for such a wonderful gift. Do you know how special your ability is? Why a pathetic human would be gifted with a legendary ability I have no idea, but we have all of eternity for me to learn all your secrets. Let us begin with your true name.”