Loremaster of the Amaranthine lands

The infernal woman caught the flying necklace with ease, looking at it with curiosity.

“What’s this?” She asked as she held the clear crystal amulet.

“It’s a gateway amulet.” He answered, earning a bright smile from the tired woman.

“Nice find,” she praised. “Now we’ll have something good to work with.”

“What’s that thing for?” Sophie questioned as she stared at the somewhat roughly made talisman.

“It allows one to connect with the portals that are scattered around the continent,” Valerie answered “It’s basically like a key that works with any gate you get in contact with. With this, we can travel back and forth between the gateways of the different towns we’ll visit in the future, cutting down travelling time greatly.”

“That sounds useful,” Amanda nodded as she sat down to rest. “Hopefully we’ll find more of those lying around.”

“One for everyone would be the best,” Osmond noted. “We will have to make do with this one for now until we can get our hands on more. Did you find anything else of use?”

“Just a couple of coins and a few notes. You can check them out if you want. Maybe you’ll find a spell you don’t know yet.”

“Sure. I can do that while getting some of my strength back.”

“In the meanwhile, I’m going to pile up the corpses and send them off,” Regis stated as he turned towards the decaying bodies on the ground. “I should be able to get a lesser physique orb.”

“You should definitely invest more in your body,” Quentin agreed. “You might be fast, but you’re far too squishy for close combat.”

“Spell casters aren’t supposed to be fighting close quarters at all.” The young dark elf reminded his companion while dragging a ghoul on top of the pile of his previous kills.

When he had all of his fallen enemies in one place, Regis pricked his finger it his dagger, letting a few drops of his blood fall beside the pile of carcasses while whispering the arcane incantation of the corpse sacrificial ritual. He focused his mind on the singular wish of trading away his kills for a lesser orb of physique. As the ritual circle formed around the pile, the rotting bodies began to dry up at a fast pace as a thick red mist flowed out of them, gathering into a large crimson droplet.

The blood-like droplet hardened into a fist-sized red ball, glowing and pulsing with the faint beat of a heart. As the light of the magic circle died down, only dried husks and the glowing orb remained, surrounded by a couple of tiny red shard slivers floating around it. It seemed that his offering was worth more than a single ‘lesser’ orb, gaining him a couple of vigour slivers as well. The spell weaver didn’t mind this however as he reached forward and touched the orb.

{Sacrificial lesser orb of physique}

{An orb formed from offering the remains of several defeated foes, their essence gathered into a single point. Absorbing it will increase one’s physique attribute by 1. Lesser orbs can only increase your attributes up to 20. Do you want to absorb it?}

‘Yes.’ He answered in his mind and the orb burst apart like a balloon. Red smoke wafted out of it, running along his arm, only to get absorbed through his mouth and nose. He could feel his fatigue lessen as his health and stamina increased a bit.

“One down, a shitload more to go.” The young dark elf sighed as he returned to his companions.

“It looks like you managed to scrape together enough for an upgrade.” Fabien noted with a faint smile as he pointed at the nearby crate, inviting the spell weaver to sit down and rest along with them.

“I really need to invest more in my physique attribute,” Regis noted. “If I want to reach tier 2 in my melee class as well, I’ll have to rack up enough high-ranked kills to get two more lesser and five minor physique attribute orbs.”

“And you won’t be able to do that if you bleed or tire out sooner than your enemies,” Osmond finished the train of thought as he handed over the improvised leather journal. “Most of the spells here are useless to us, except for two.”

The dark elf took a look at the pages opened by the shadow-touched spell caster, his eyebrows rising from surprise.

“Scorching torrent and fire arrow.” He read the name of the two novice-ranked spells.

“If my guess is correct, then scorching torrent is the spell Amanda mentioned you’ve seen being cast back in Hunor against the incoming tide of undead.”

“Most likely,” he agreed. “It looked like someone was using a bloody flamethrower. That kind of firepower could be quite useful. No pun intended.”

“As powerful as it sounds,” Khan joined into the conversation. “Wouldn’t it also destroy the enemy’s equipment as well?”

“Sometimes sacrifices must be made.” Quentin stated while cleaning his weapon with a piece of rag.

“And the fire arrow?”

“The name says it all. It’s a medium ranged high damage projectile spell. It must cost a shitload of arcana though.”

“Be as it may, it’s still better to have these spells than to not have any at all.” Valerie snatched the small journal from the dark elf, taking a quick look at the notes written in it.

“To be honest, I would be happier with minor healing, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

“The scouts are back!” A voice from the distant right resounded, making the group turn towards its origin while standing up.

Several figures showed up at the blockaded entry point of one of the streets, climbing over the crates with great haste.

“What did you find?” The captain of the 7th guard squad asked.

“We found a small alley with barely any enemies shambling about. After killing them, it became apparent that it leads almost to the gates. The area surrounding the inner wall is filled with corpses of the fallen.” Reported the scout after taking a swig at the waterskin offered by a fellow guard.

“Any signs of life from the wall?” The captain of the 4h squad questioned the soldier.

“The torches and braziers were still burning and there was movement atop the wall. We didn’t get close enough to make contact with them, but judging by their movements, they were definitely alive.”

“Good,” one of the mercenary leaders said as he grabbed his weapon. “The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get some rest. I’ve had about enough of these stinking corpses.”

“Alright everyone, get your stuff and get ready! It’s time to head out.” The captain of the 7th squad ordered as he pulled his knapsack on.

“Time to get this show on the road.” Khan joked as he held his twin blades, ready for a fight.

The outlanders grabbed whatever they believed to be of worth from the small pile of loot they took from their recently defeated enemies. Once everyone was ready, the small army headed out towards the alley the scouts found, trying to be as quiet as possible to not draw any attention to themselves. The next fifteen or so minutes, despite being tense, proved to be uneventful.

When the large group left the alley, they found themselves staring at a twenty-meter-tall stone wall with soldiers patrolling on its top section. A small number of fallen were seen shambling about, earning an arrow or a spell in the head once they got too close to the wall. The guards and mercenaries formed into an arrow-style formation and walked towards the gates. A moment later an arrow whizzed through the air, only to drill itself halfway through Quentin’s shield that stopped it from reaching Fabien’s face.

“Hold your fire you goat shagging bastard! We’re friendlies!” The captain of the 7th squad yelled, seeing the unexpected attack.

“Friendlies my arse,” someone yelled from the top of the wall. “You have a bloody demon on your side!”

“He’s not a demon, but an outlander you moron,” Marcus yelled at the archer. “Now call someone from your higher-ups, so he can clear this mess up and be quick about it! There are way too many of these stinking corpses walking about.”

A set of grumbles could be heard from the top of the wall, too far to be understood clearly, but not far enough to not take out the part where they were cursing at their mothers. It took at least 5 minutes for a new figure to appear on the wall, looking down at the small army of warriors.

“Where do you hail from?” An aged yet imposing voice asked.

“We came from Hunor, downstream the river. Our lord had sent scouts here a few days before. From what I’ve been told, they managed to reach your people.”

“Ah,” the man sighed. “So you’re the reinforcement sent by the nobleman that took over Hunor. I expected there to be more of you.”

“We’re all that can be spared,” the guard captain said with obvious annoyance in his tone. “Hunor was attacked by the fallen as well. If we brought along more people, then who would be left to defend the refugees over there?”

“Do not misunderstand my words,” the old man spoke with a tired voice. “I simply meant that we were hoping to receive more soldiers to aid us since the situation is quite dire.”

“Is it dire enough to let us in?” another mercenary grumbled. “It’s already pitch black out here and I can hear the growls of the fallen getting closer.”

“Alright,” the stranger yelled after turning inwards the wall. “Open up the gates quickly and be ready to close them as soon as they’re inside. The last thing we want is to give those abominations a chance to break through our defences.”

The large reinforced gate slowly opened with a loud creak, revealing tired gazes staring back at the arriving mercenaries and guardsman with a faintly discernible glint of hope. Those same eyes however turned somewhat dark and hostile as they fell on the group of outlanders. Several armed men made their way towards the newly arrived people, mercenaries most likely, judging by their mismatched armour and roughly kept formation. They eyed up the incoming people with a scrutinising gaze, scoffing hard at the sight they found to be lacking.

“I can understand letting the guards and the mercenaries in,” one of the strangers said towards a grey-haired elder that moved in front of them. “But what about them?”

The mercenary stabbed his finger towards Regis and his companions, his face covered with an obvious mixture of disgust and distrust.

“You should have let them rot outside with the fallen if you ask me,” a cocky voice rang out from behind the heavily armoured man. “These mongrels ought to be just as troublesome as the ones that were here before them.”

“Weren’t you the son of a bitch that shot at my brother?” Valerie asked with fury in her tone and she stepped forward, grabbing her whip while staring daggers into the man.

“So what if I did, demon?” The man asked back with an arrogant smile as he held his bow close to his chest. “Are you going cry about it?”

“Oh, I’m going to...” the infernal woman tried to curse while raising her whip, but a firm hand stopped her from doing so.

“We’re not here to fight our supposed allies,” Regis stated, staring into her eyes. “There are plenty of monsters out there to vent your anger on later, but for now, we should get some rest.”

Here the dark elf turned towards the elderly man, giving him a slight nod.

“I know it is rude of us to ask as soon as we got here, but is there a place for us to rest for at least a few hours? We’ve been rowing upstream throughout the whole day, barely stopping for an hour or so to rest. We have also been fighting against the fallen since the moment we arrived at the market square. Everyone is tired and cranky. I’m sure we’ll be more useful after getting some shut-eye.”

“Oh,” the Elder showed a somewhat surprised yet compassionate expression. “I very much understand your need for rest, young one. Although we are overcrowded by those that sought refuge behind these walls, I’m sure we can find some spot for you the rest.”

“Thank you for your understanding.” Regis nodded once again, stealing a glance at the group of mercenaries that were obviously unhappy about them staying behind the safety of the walls.

The old man called over a youth that seemed to be even younger than the outlanders, whispering something into his ear before patting his shoulder. After that, he returned to the guards and mercenaries to continue their conversation and to show them around. The youth looked over the tired outlanders, waving at them without a word before heading out, the anxious crowd of refugees parting way in front of them.

An eerie silence pressed down on them as they followed the stranger through the crowded streets towards a half-collapsed building. The youth stopped to turn towards them, finally speaking.

“It’s not much, but this is all we can spare for your kind.” The young man said with obvious disgust in his voice, earning a few raised eyebrows from the group as he left without saying another word.

“Well,” Quentin sighed. “This could have gone better.”

The wannabe paladin opened the rickety door of the damaged building, heading inside with the others in tow. Once the door was closed behind them all her broke loose.

“What the fuck was that, Regis?” Valerie fumed with rage.

“Twelve runed iron.” The short answer came.

“What?”

“There was a spell caster amongst those mercenaries, standing in the back. He had an iron staff with twelve runes. Half of them were green.”

“So what if some dude was holding a fancy staff,” Cruz scoffed. “We should have…”

“No,” Osmond stopped her from raging. “We shouldn’t have. No ordinary or weak spell caster would walk around with a staff that has so many enchantments on it. Especially if half of those enchantments are of the 3rd rank. That guy must have been a real tier two spell caster.”

“Not just him,” the dark elf sighed. “Although their armour looked mismatched, all of them sported at least four runes on them. Those guys were strong. Very strong. There’s a good chance that most of them were also tier twos. If we went up against them with our current strength and equipment…”

“We’d be toast.” Fabien finished the spell weaver’s thoughts as he patted his sister’s shoulder.

“Fuck!” Valerie cursed as she slammed her fist into the shabby door, earning a loud creaking sound as it almost broke from the impact.

“So what do we do now? Are we supposed to just take this laying down?” Khan asked as he looked around, his eyes stopping at every crack in the walls.

“For now, we should do what we came here to do.” Quentin stated while he sat down on the cold and dry ground. “Get some rest and we’ll head out early in the morning. We’ll try to reach the places we agreed on before and get whatever we can while taking out as many of the fallen as we can.”

Everyone went silent for a few moments, their thoughts and emotions clearly visible on their faces.