Days 24 and 25 of the Harvest Moon, year of the Goddess 445
Do you ever get a gut feeling that something is wrong? As I was stripping an Andris Bone Mage of his reagents, something carried by the wind reached my senses. Why was I thinking of Mirith?
The feeling was so intense that, at the cost of making a fool of myself, I made my preparations and portalled to the old city of the King. I arrived there to find some friends gathered and heard some talk of a Necromancer. Now, whilst nobody likes the idea of Black Magic, we cannot afford to have our lands disturbed by obscure presences, so something needed to be done. Druid Yendu came back from the cemetery reporting an unusual sight - a cauldron which possibly indicated the presence of a camp.
Few as we were, I joined Raza, Gasby, Yendu and Kalt to the burial grounds. Poor Pakal, despite an upset stomach, followed with his bow and a quiver full of sharp arrows.
We arrived to find fires and Brackens at the entrance. Having destroyed the evil trees, we found ourselves contending with Zombies and Bone Mages, but a much darker presence lurked in the background - a Necromancer!
A slow battle commenced as we were frequently obliged to retreat to make some very much needed potions for ourselves and our companions. The stench was awful as the Zombies' curses were many. Every so often the dark spells of the Necromancer would be heard amidst the clanging of weapons, hissing of arrows and our mages' spells. Gasby would often disappear only to reappear much worse for wear, but not without having inflicted much damage to the enemies.* Mora Olsa Necritur ** Mosa Olsa Necripax *
The stench was making us dizzy but we did not retreat...* Mora *
Oh, the fight to free ourselves from the paralysis spells... how exhausting!* Mora Olsa Preldian ** Mora Olsa Necripax *"You filthy human"
How awful those voices were - my ears were throbbing as I frantically made mana potions whilst fighting against a sense of nausea, which was overwhelming, Now a new noise alarmed us - some hysterical laughter seemed to be coming from the south east side of the cemetery. "My jokes can't be that funny
", Kalt murmured. As soon as we had restocked, we declared ourselves ready to move forward, then Kalt yelled something that sounded like some foreign spell - "Hiya Kayi"
- I eagerly awaited the result but then realised he was just addressing a newcomer who wore the Three Paths emblem - rogue Kayi . A new wave of curses and more stench had to be contended with, but our march proceeded. The Necromancer fireballed poor Kalt, sending him into the grey. Raza was quick on bestowing on him the gift of life but at this stage my eyes were on Yendu's tusker, who was being threatened by a Bone Mage. Kalt shuddered. More undead surrounded us. "Come and taste defeat"
, thundered the Necromancer.
Unexpectedly, he displayed his arrogance and self assurance by volunteering to tell us the source of his power and adding we could not defeat him .* Elarum Mora Erarum *
He was wearing a necklace that granted him the power of casting as many black spells as he wished! A never ending source of power... "After I kill you, I will find the black mage that gave me this necklace"
- his words were followed by a fit of laughter. Gasby was quick to take advantage of the moment and, with his dagger, aimed at the clasp of the necklace, which broke. To our astonishment, we saw the black figure wither. There was however no time to proclaim victory, as another Necromancer appeared, followed by a second one. We were paralysed and one of the Necromancers bent to the ground and picked up the necklace, commenting to his comrade that not much remained.* Mora Olsa Preldian *
, and the two black figures vanished. Is this the last we hear of such a powerful amulet? I have my doubts.
Many questions remained unanswered but what was the point of even speculating? We were in total ignorance. Torn and weary from the long battle, we returned to our homes.With a deep frown furrowing her forehead, Rosina leaves a copy of her report in the library and sends a note to Jedd - maybe he has heard or read something about such matters in his extensive travels? The cleric is no scholar by the utmost stretching of the imagination, her abilities consisting solely of having squabbles, punching and casting spells.