Loremaster of the Amaranthine lands

“We’re so fucked!” Cruz blurted out as she had to jump to the side to evade the fallen soldier’s blade, a small cut appearing on her left side despite her best attempts.

“Khan; you take the soldier,” Quentin began to bark orders. “I’ll take the one with the shield. The rest of you, take down that priest and the spellcasters!”

In a matter of seconds, a full-on battle unfolded in the confines of the spacious room, a bright beam of light cutting through the air towards the fallen. The knight protected itself with its shield, standing almost completely unscathed as the beam faded. Its companions however couldn’t say the same. The cleric’s body was releasing dark fumes where its small round shield couldn’t cover it. The two robed figures staggered back with obvious damage visible across their upper bodies where parts of their already rotting flesh got incinerated.

They were still in fighting condition though as they retaliated with their own spells. The familiar crimson fire arrow cut through the air towards the dark elf, hitting him on the left shoulder as he failed to dodge in time. His arcana shield shattered under the pressure of the spell, forcing him to stumble and roll on the ground as his pauldron took the brunt of the attack. Literally. Regis tried to put out the fire, failing miserably enough to make him rather tear off the armour piece before it could burn his body too badly.

“The poser is mine!” Osmond took it upon himself to deal with the opposing necromancer that seemed to have been greatly weakend both by the beam of light and its lack of minions.

A duel of shadow bolts commenced, both sides trying to pelt the other with their strongest attacks. Despite the close range, Sophie tried her best to keep the cleric busy with blocking her arrows, giving Amanda and Cruz the chance to get up close and personal. The giant woman threw away the unwieldy tower shield in favour of her hammer, swinging it at the shield of the cleric, a loud cracking sound reverberating in the room. Cruz tried her best to bash in the head of the undead, having to settle with its kneecaps, since the creature proved to be agile enough to defend and attack at the same time.

While Fabien and Valerie rushed down the opposing undead fire mage, Khan began a dance of swords with the fallen soldier that proved to be almost as agile as he was, despite its undead state. Sparks flew about every time their blades blocked each other’s, but the difference in quality soon began to show. The edges of Khan’s weapons began to dent and break as they lost small pieces under the relentless onslaught of his opponent. He used his blade-rush in hopes of getting an upper hand, only for the sword in his left hand to snap in two.

“Fuck,” he jumped back, staring at his broken blade. “This was my second favourite sword you rotting bastard!”

“Do you need help?” Regis asked as he managed to shake off the slight dizziness caused by the severe arcana cost of his runic spell.

“Don’t you dare!” The young bladedancer yelled as he frenziedly began to swing at the undead soldier.

A large crunching sound filled the air air, followed by a thud. As the dark elf instinctively turned towards the source of the noise, he saw the fallen fire mage’s collapsed body on the floor with Fabien and Valerie panting beside it, obvious scorch marks all over their armour. Amanda and Cruz were less lucky with their opponent as the censer mace struck the wood elf woman in the abdomen, causing her to fall back on the ground, curling up as she clenched her stomach.

Amanda answered the attrition with her own blazing strike at the undead cleric, making it stumble back several steps. It gave enough time and space for Sophie to rush in and cast her first minor healing spell on her wounded comrade. Regis found it better to join back into the fray, pointing his bladestaff in the correct direction to use his piercing strike. He managed to stab through his opponent’s shield, yanking his weapon sideways along with it. This gave enough space for the blacksmith to get in a second crushing blow at their opponent’s chest.

The abomination fell on the ground, the faint blue fire still burning in its eyes soon crushed by the hammer. Two enemies were down, but the rest held up far too well to their liking. Osmond was having an obvious trouble fighting against the necromancer that proved to be quite resilient. It seemed to have a special enchantment on its arm guard that allowed it to form an arcana shield on its left hand to block the incoming attacks.

“I don’t believe you have an infinite arcana reserve!” The pale youth said with an annoyed tone as he kept stabbing forward with his rapier shaped cane.

Quentin seemed to have fared the best amongst the team, pushing back the fallen knight that had trouble defending itself against the divine light that protected him. A shield bash knocked the undead off balance, its head rolling on the ground a split second later. Quentin’s sigh of relief turned into a silent curse as he had to block another swing from the fallen knight that kept on fighting despite the loss of its head.

It finally stopped moving when the man stabbed his sword through the burning eye socket of the severed head, twisting the blade clockwise. The victorious moment was overshadowed by Khan’s pained scream. The young bladedancer traded several blows with his opponent, dodging and jumping around the surprisingly agile undead. His last move was mirrored by his opponent. Khan cut an 'X' shaped arc through the air with his weapons, but his enemy’s blade met his right wrist instead of the still whole sword.

It chopped off the hand in one clean motion just as the broken blade in his left hand switched directions slightly, stabbing it in the eye and through its brain. Khan screamed as blood spurted from the severed hand. He released the broken blade as soon as his opponent hit the ground dead once again.

“Son of a bitch!” He half cursed, half winced as he held the bleeding stump, using his meagre arcana reserves to cast minor healing on it.

“Khan!” Quentin yelled as he rushed over to his wounded friend, mustering up the leftovers his own reserves to help stop the bleeding and begin the regrowth process.

While most of the group turned their attention towards the still downed Cruz and the wounded bladedancer, Osmond finally managed to get through his opponent’s defences. The pale youth shattered his enemy’s arcana shield, piercing through its head and melting it off a second later as he cast a shadow bolt with his weapon as a conduit. The undead necromancer collapsed on the ground, lifeless once again as only the battered but still breathing outlanders remained standing in the room.

“Bastard got me good,” Khan winced. “I thought that our blades would hit one another’s, maybe even breaking mine. I didn’t expect it to change its attack’s direction in the last second.”

“Don’t worry,” Quentin crouched beside the wounded youth. “We’ll heal you in no time.”

“Yeah, Valerie let out a tired sigh. “You’ll be able to hold your bowl in your right by the time we get to eat dinner.”

“That thing sure cut you off,” Fabien looked at the slowly growing stump on the bladedancer’s wrist. “And it wasn’t even your father.”

Everyone looked at the infernal with their eyebrows raised.

“Really?” his sister asked with a very displeased expression. “You just had to say something so stupid at a time like...”

“What? That was a good one,” Fabien raised his hands in a defensive way. “I thought he was nerdy enough to recognize the reference.”

“Hey Khan,” Cruz finally got up from the floor, the skin on her stomach still visibly tender where the bruises just recently healed, picking up the severed limb. “Need a hand?”

“Yeah, fuck you too!” He growled as he flipped the bird with his left hand after hearing the cringe-worthy joke.

“Alright everyone,” Regis breathed heavily as he walked over to the mechanism at the side of the room that held a spool arm thick chains. “Close the doors while I lower the portcullis. We’ll rest up, heal up and gather our earnings. After that, we’ll head back towards the spell casters’ guild.”

“It was about damn time we did that,” Amanda plopped down on the ground with Sophie sitting beside her, leaning on her shoulder. “This whole mission was one unexpected fuck-up after the other.”

“It’s a bloody miracle we managed to get through this shit without anyone dying!” Cruz spat some bloodied saliva to the side.

“We’re not out of the woods yet, so don’t jinx it!” Fabien grumbled as he cast minor healing on the bladedancer’s stump after regaining some of his arcana.

Regis shook his head before looking at their defeated opponents. Each of the fallen wore distinct armour. But the thing that was common in each of them was the quality. These monsters were either wealthy or highly renowned and skilled when they were still alive. Their equipment was proof of that. The knight especially was obviously of a noble family.

Regis knew that no matter how much money one could offer, no blacksmith would ever spend the effort the create such high-quality equipment for them unless they were important. The family crest carved into the breastplate and the plaudrons was also a dead giveaway of the undead’s noble heritage. Both the fire mage and the necromancer had thick and strong robes, even if they were ragged now due to the many battles they must have seen. The cleric and the soldier also wore fine quality iron equipment, possibly even lower quality steel. None of this would come cheap, even with none of their gear showing any signs of being enchanted.

“They were either high rank military people, or a skilled mercenary group.” Quentin said after noticing his companion’s expression as the dark elf studied the dead.

“So it would seem,” he agreed. “Either way, they are gone and what was theirs is now ours.”

“Yes,” Quentin nodded. “It would be a waste to leave these armour and weapons behind. Although, that knight’s equipment will surely raise a few eyebrows.”

“Especially if someone recognises the family crest.” Valerie finished the man’s train of thought.

“I could use transmutation magic to erase the engravings,” the young spell weaver offered. “Once it’s gone, nobody would have the right to point fingers at you. After all; war time rules always allow for the looting of useful equipment.”

“I have a feeling that they would point fingers at us even if we would bring back a cart full of food for them to eat.”

“On the bright side,” Amanda joined into the conversation. “We managed to close the gate, just as we promised to do. That should get them off our backs for a while.”

“This might be a bad time,” Sophie spoke up. “But what are we going to do with those mercenaries? They attacked us twice and Regis almost died. Even if we want to play friendly with the locals, we can’t let those people push us around like this.”

“As much as I hate to admit it,” Fabien patted the sun elf on the shoulder. “She’s right about this. The first attack could have been said to be an accident, if anyone would believe it. The second one was clearly an assassination attempt. If we stay in East Fork any longer, they might try it a third time and we can't say they won’t succeed.”

“Even if most of them are just well-equipped tier ones, they still have a tier 2 archer and spellcaster,” Valerie let out a defeated sigh. “That’s not the kind of firepower we can match.”

“Not unless we return with more tier twos then they have.” Quentin pointed out the obvious.

“I don’t know about you,” the shadow-touched spellcaster spoke while looting the necromancer he defeated. “But I’m still a bit far from reaching the threshold. Even if I pile up all the corpses I made on our way here, I would still fall short by a minor spirit orb or two.”

“I might be able to tier up,” Cruz admitted. “I’m pretty sure I killed enough to get me one of the two minor physique orbs I need. After that, I could form the ascetic constellation to get the rest.”

“When did you manage to unlock that?” The infernal woman looked at her companion with surprise.

“It happened during the previous night on the river. It’s not exactly a rare class, so it wasn’t hard to access it.”

“I too could tier up,” Fabien spoke up while scratching the back of his head. “I have almost everything for the storm knight class. One more physique and spirit orb’s all I lack.”

“Fuck,” Amanda cursed. “Is there anyone else who wants to admit that they are secretly a badass?”

“Actually,” Quentin cleared his throat. “I sort of gained a constellation chart last night as well.”

“Really,” Valerie asked as he looked at the man with an obvious curiosity. “Why didn’t you tell us? We could have helped you if you needed any orbs toward your tier up.”

“I didn’t tell you because I was reluctant to believe what happened myself as well.”

“What do you mean?” Regis questioned as he tried to read his companions facial expression.

“Okay. I know this is going to sound crazy, but last night while I was meditating, I heard a voice.”