Daughter of Death - A Necromantic LitRPG

Upon illuminations dreary I have wept, for truths of the flesh and of the spirit reveal worlds unbeknownst to the likes of myself. By the Gods above, there is no end to this wheel. Shadows leap at my dreams from the sands of the distant south, above marshy woodlands made the lairs of beasts infested with magic. So hereupon these tattered pages I have scrawled the worst my art has to offer this world before my soul runs afoul of the void betwixt worlds.

Lieze recognised the wording as belonging to Kazor Nict. He had a particular method of expressing his thoughts. Not an understandable or reasonable method, mind, but a method nonetheless. She licked the tip of her finger to sweep page after page, devouring his teachings as one might leap upon a succulent meal after days of starvation.

She had a very good reason for this hurry - the restrained anxiety in her chest demanded blood so soon after her most recent conquest. Her visit to the chamber of Seers beneath the fortress illuminated her future to a degree that the resultant hope came close to blinding her. Much like the first fire stoked by Sigmund’s promise, her motivation had sprung through the roof.

Kazor’s corpus on necromancy revealed a few spells to Lieze that wouldn’t have entered her mind if it wasn’t for the old master’s wisdom. A complicated process involving the channelling of one’s mortal soul caught her eye at first, and within the hour, she had the written theory branded into the grooves of her brain.

Technique Learned!

Type: [Spell] Name: [Spiritual Projection]

Description - Spend an amount of MP equal to twice a targeted thrall’s level to issue a complicated command that the thrall will follow to the best of its ability. When given an order in this manner, the thrall will display a level of intelligence equal to the intelligence it possessed while living. If the thrall cannot follow the command, the MP cost is refunded.

Mercurial Enhancement - When ordered, the targeted thrall’s level is increased by [35%] for the spell’s duration.

“Not very handy in a fight, but especially useful for scouting out the enemy.” Lieze thought.

-But she wasn’t looking for gimmicks. Based on Kazor’s writings, the grimoire in her possession was most likely the last of his works before the cold clutch of death took him and ripped a hole in the Order’s leadership. The most powerful of his techniques were surely hidden within its pages - but Lieze knew better than to expect straightforwardness from a necromancer.

“I remember the ciphers we were taught to conceal information if the need ever arose…” She traced her finger over the preamble at the beginning of a later chapter, “Hide sentences in every seventh letter, to prevent those who orchestrate our demise from discovering our secrets…”

She was pleased to discover words leaping off from the page as she recited the seventh letters in order. Kazor’s earlier spiels of madness, she realised, must have been a ploy to make any flavourful language seem mundane. The hidden passages in question were tucked within accounts of birdwatching married with guides on the most effective methods of boiling frogs, and from those ramblings, she deduced the hidden teachings of the Order’s once-radiant leader.

“This is…” Her mind retraced the words until the process was burned into memory.

Technique Learned!

Necromantic Alchemy - Extract Life

Description - Permanently sacrifice [10%] of your maximum MP in order to extract and revive a single egg cell from a female corpse. If the egg cell is transferred to the requisite housing and provided with constant nutrients, it will eventually gestate into a healthy newborn.

“This is the spell Sokalar used to…” Lieze’s voice trailed off, “This is Kazor’s final teaching? It almost seems like he valued life all along, to develop a technique capable of creating new life from a corpse…”

Lieze’s mother was an ancient cadaver from a society which flourished before the advent of the written word - those who first sculpted the Order’s hideout and its labyrinthine catacombs. It was a common belief that they were once necromancers themselves, exiled from their homes and forced to dwell within the Deadlands as punishment for practising forbidden magic.

Sokalar never discussed the circumstances of Lieze’s birth. She could only assume he banked on the latent potential within some of the world’s primordial necromancers and used Kazor’s teachings to create a child born from an extinct generation. But as Lieze’s poor magical aptitude revealed, her heritage was founded in anything but sorcerous talent.

“Those people in our catacombs were nothing but ash-haired exiles trying to eke out meagre lives in a land that wanted them dead.” Lieze sighed, “They’d probably never seen or heard of magic in their lives. Sokalar ended up wasting his MP on a child with zero potential… it’s no wonder he resented me.”

She knew all of this already. Still, it was refreshing to have some closure on the matter, if only to discover the secrets behind the technique that led to her tumultuous creation. If anything, she could now claim that she was fully human, rather than some devious homunculus created using purely artificial means.

Quest ‘Bookworm’ Complete!

Reward - 1,500xp

Heightened Potential Progress - 4,500 / 50,000

“If only he knew how I’d turn out… or who would end up orchestrating his end.” She muttered, “It was unsuccessful at the time, but that siege turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me.”

The thought only compounded her beliefs. She was born weak, tormented, and made a target of ruthless experiments to fulfil the desires of a father she never truly loved. Every ounce of her suffering was the result of circumstances beyond her control - circumstances allowed and perpetuated by the Gods.

But no longer. Her fledgling ambition had transformed into something so much more tangible. From an abandoned, suicidal exile to the Order’s most accomplished master, the tribulations she’d endured over the past few months made the rest of her life seem meaningless in comparison. Now, with the end of her ridiculous journey in sight, she had fewer regrets than ever before. All that remained was to see her vow through to the end.

Days turned to nights in the blink of an eye. Lieze’s [Fleshwarper] abilities trivialised the process of enhancing thralls, allowing her to inflate the strength and speed of her most powerful minions. In the meantime, her Deathguards prowled the mountains in search of more corpses to raise, pushing the army’s proportions into the realm of absurdity.

More Skeletal Necromancers were created to offset the blow to Lieze’s Maximum Thrall Capacity. The amount of undead designated as leaders within her ranks outnumbered the living members of the Order by a significant margin. By enthralling a single commander, Deathguards of all proficiencies could wield an equal amount of manpower, providing more opportunities for strategic depth.

Secret Quest ‘Master of the Horde’ Complete!

Description - Have at least 10,000 thralls under your command, either directly or indirectly.

Reward - 13,000xp

Heightened Potential Progress - 17,500 / 50,000

In the meantime, Marché and Lüngen were instructed to put their heads together and make use of the Melting Jug to crystallise magical items located within the Dwarven armouries. Over the course of his tenure as a Scion, Alberich bestowed many minor but permanent enchantments upon the arms of his soldiers, leaving an abundance of unexploited alchemical potential in passing.

“Well… I suppose I could try my hand at a little alchemy.” Marché hefted the jug in both arms, “-But if you want us to create something worthwhile from the reagents we acquire, it’ll take some research. That is to say, we’ll be indisposed until we turn up some useful results.”

“I’m interested in outfitting the Deathguards and Skeletal Necromancers with foci not unlike my own.” Lieze replied, “I doubt we’ll have many opportunities to rest in Akzhem, so it’s imperative that we focus on boosting the efficiency of our spellcraft. I’ll give both of you a fortnight to figure everything out.”

“Two weeks to learn an art that takes most scholars decades to understand…” Marché sighed, “I know you won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. I suppose Sokalar would have demanded the same results in a single day, so at least it’s not as bad as it could be.”

“Lüngen will know a thing or two about it, so don’t hesitate to rely on his wisdom.” She said, “Whether you succeed or not, we’re leaving for Akzhem at the end of the month. Roland is already preparing the supplies we’ll need to make the journey with the reluctant aid of a few Deathguards.”

“That soon, eh…?” He paused, “We’ll need lights, too. Lots of lights. I’ll see if I can’t find anything suitable to take along from the workshops.”

Despite his hesitation, Lieze had no doubt in her mind that Marché would pull through when it came to fulfilling her demands. There was no room to spare expenses when the final stage of her war against the living was on the horizon. That left only two stragglers within the Order she had yet to pin down.

Baccharum was an easy enough man to find. Even in the tumultuous aftermath of his escape from the parliament offices, there was no other place in the mountains quite as dark or isolated as the hall constructed to house prospective Elven diplomats. However well-decorated the room once was, a party of Dwarves had seen to it that none of its former beauty remained. Lieze wondered if Baccharum even realised how deeply the room had fallen into disrepair with his blindfolds on.

“Exactly what should we be expecting in terms of resistance once we reach Akzhem?” Lieze discarded the pleasantries and started rattling off questions as soon as she wandered through the caved-in doorway, “If Tonberg had the Church, and the mountains had their siege weapons and enchantments, then what more could we possibly be surprised by?”

“Good afternoon to you as well, Lieze.” In the low light, she could make out the Elf’s pale skin resting behind the fractured desk, “Would you like some tea?”

She folded her arms, “Dwarves don’t drink tea.”

“Hah! Very true.” He leaned back in his chair, “Neither do the Elv. We prefer the stringent notes of mushroom brews and the sourness of root extracts tucked beneath the fertile ground. Over the course of centuries, we learned to exploit the effects of Akzhem’s fauna to our own benefit. If it wasn’t for Lunar Buds, I would never have gotten my foot in the door after being exiled.”

“From what I’ve seen, Lunar Buds are considered more of a hindrance than a boon among humans.” Lieze replied, “I’ve heard of people ingesting mushrooms and roots with hallucinogenic properties for mere entertainment, but you make it sound as if the Elves use them for a greater purpose.”

“Unlike the holds of men both tall and short, the Elv subscribe to no particular pantheon or deity.” Baccharum continued, “Divinity - in the form understood by my kind - originates from the visions imparted by such substances. Some argue that it deepens our connection with magic, whereas others claim to be reborn in holy fire after taking too great a dose.”

Lieze paused, “...Are you sure they aren’t just addicts?”

“One or the other. One or the other.” He nodded, “-But some of them are quite helpful. They sharpen the mind, or quicken the reflexes. Rather useful for a nation so obsessed with assassination. A single Elven rogue huffed up to his ears would be more than a match for the average thrall, I would assume.”

“Do you think they’re more dangerous than the Dwarves?”

“Normally? No. We’re quite content with our lot in life.” Baccharum leaned forward, “But when our lives are threatened? When the undead prowl our woods? With assassins and Shamans in play, you might very well be on the way to meeting your match in the Black Forest, Lieze.”