Drake chewed on his inner cheek while watching the clerics work in the dimly lit chamber. He flexed his hands to get warmth into them and crossed his arms. Bloody twisted, he thought. Their unit had fought hard to save the town of Maplebrook from being overrun by bandits, Jaks most of all. He was a fine warrior, one who had achieved the unit’s one and only strike against that cursed necromancer. But Jaks had taken a risk by tethering his obsidian shard to his trident.
Drake had nearly believed the attack had done the job. But that necromancer’s magic was strong; of course he would have had some form to resurrect himself. The shard had been shattered by the casting of whatever revival spell the dark mage had used. That should have resulted in a second death, truth be told. To destroy a shard of the Obelisk is to endure a painful destruction.
But that was the twisted thing. If the wizard had been the one to destroy the shard, why had Jaks been the one to die? Why had he been the one punished? Why had the Obelisk recalled their unit out of their crusade?
Drake swore under his breath. Some storm was coming, and he feared many more of his comrades would die before then.
The clerics sliced open Jaks’s chest, slow-blood oozing out. One removed his heart while the other placed a large shard of the Obelisk inside. With the pressing of their hands and a silent prayer, his chest sealed again. His body jolted. Blackness ran the course of his veins. Then the magic settled, as if nothing had happened.
Then Jaks shot up and coughed up black ichor and old blood. When he was done, he wiped his jaw and looked over to Drake. “Afterlives, did I die?”
***
===
Jevrick’s Main Quest: Restore Maplebrook
- Earn Maplebrook’s trust.
- Bring back the town’s dead.
- Rebuild houses.
- Restore population.
Side Quests:
- Deal with the merchant guild.
- Deal with the wolves.
- Discover the secret of the strange green powder.
- Fulfill obligation to Atan.
===
Maplebrook’s Population: ~600
Undead Servants: 10 Greenfolk Thralls (43 intact corpses stored, 10 more beyond repair)
Allies: Atan, Ronald, Nora Jacoby, Von Jacoby
Workers: 5 Guardsmen, 5 Hunters, 3 Woodsmen, 3 Craftsmen, Mason, Blacksmith.
===
Buildings: Townhall, Tavern, Chapel of Light (Crypt), Dockyard, Blacksmith, Palisades
===
Phoenix tail, iron chains, vial of blood or sack of bonemeal, a sprinkle of aether—all funneled through a soul gem. This was the recipe for my Resurrection spell. Blood was abundant to me after the recent fight, and aether was easy enough to harvest from the local plant life. Iron chains seemed easy enough to acquire from the local blacksmith, though I’d still need to find a phoenix tail feather. . . a lot of it. Not to mention that my soul gem had been consumed by the use of Anima Vifica, and so I lacked the spell focus I needed for blood magic. Arcane could still come to me in the form of my binding cap, thank the Celestials, but the spell reviving these dead townsfolk needed hardened anima to make work.
I thumbed through the tiny diamonds that Kipsic had given me. Though holding monetary value, they would not suffice for this job. I needed the kobold king’s help.
That was my shopping list:
- 22 Phoenix Tail Feathers (to be cut in half for 43 corpses).
- 43 Iron Chains.
- 1-3 Large Diamonds (a couple for safety).
I needed my little kobold friend. Hmm. “Kipsic, are you here, per chance?”
“I not spy-spy,” the kobold said, though I could not see him.
I smiled. “No, that is alright. I did tell you to not show yourself to the townsfolk, do not worry. I have a request of you, if I may?”
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The kobold’s big eyes rolled into visibility as his camouflage faded away. “Ask? No ask, I help. No ask. You say job, I do-do.” He grinned. My, how kobolds had sharp teeth.
I knelt to be closer to his eye level and showed the diamond fragments in my hand. “King Nak-Kan had offered larger diamonds in exchange for defeating the bandits—though I suspect there may be another cost to obtain them. What do you think he will desire in exchange for them?”
Kipsic stroked his pointed chin with a talon. “Hmm. Well. . . Kobolds not used to trade-trade with others. Usually steal things. Maybe, king want you to steal thing for glass rock?”
“Curious.” I had no qualms about stealing something for diamonds, lest he hoped to take something from Maplebrook. “Another question, what does your clan know about phoenix’s?”
Kipsic squinted.
“Bright, colorful birds with a predilection for fire?”
He shook his head. “Do not know. But, maybe someone does. I will ask-ask my clan!”
I smiled. “Very well, dear Kispic. If you could tell Nak-Kan that I have dispatched the Greenfolk, and would like to inquire about large diamonds and phoenix tails, that would be quite helpful.”
He nodded fervently. “Yes, yes!” He disappeared—the patter of small feet soon clambering out of the cellar.
I returned to the surface to speak with the blacksmith next. I frowned as another caravan of people and livestock set out down the cobbled road to the northwest, which I had been informed was the road that went around Maplebrook’s lake and led to Knightshelm, home of the Knights of the Obelisk. I watched as a smaller contingent split off from them and went down a road true north toward the mountain range called Ember Peaks. Most likely, they would beseech the dwarves of Stone Summit for refuge.
Before I had time to lament the large caravan heading north and northwest, a third passed me toward the east in the direction of the nearest town of New Avalon, which I understood to be a people similar to the culture of Maplebrook. My new people, exodized to the edges of the region, and I could do little to stop them. And still, there were more who worked to pack carriages and wagons, strapping bags of food to mules and cows, and others setting out with little more than walking sticks and satchels.
My only hope would be to bring back the dead, lest they be all that were left to populate the town.
I journeyed over to the blacksmith’s hut. The man was hard at work packing tools and equipment into wooden boxes with the help of a couple other men, whom I thought to be his apprentices.
“Hail, fair tradesman!” I said with a wave.
The burly fellow looked up at me, gave a huff, and continued with his task.
I doubted I’d earn his vote in the coming election. “I have need of your services, for the sake of the town.”
He scowled, a bundle of spears in his arms. “Sake of the town, ye say? Bah! For the sake of the town, I hope yeh rot.” He spat and pressed on.
I didn’t let it dissuade me. “I am in need of iron chains, about one-hundred and thirty-two feet of it, to be precise.”
He stumbled over. “Are you raving mad?”
“Neither crazy nor upset, dear friend. It is a vital component for resurrecting your fellow dead.”
He let the spears in his arms drop, all but one. His apprentices stopped in their work and stared wide-eyed at their master. He pointed the rough edge of the spear at me and took a step forward. “Them men and women and children be dead. Dead because of you. You hear? By Zyon, Erabos, and Infernos—may the Celestials smite you down should you defile their bodies with yer wicked hands. You hear? And if they aren’t the ones to do it, mark that I’ll be the one instead.” By this point, he was an arm’s length away, the spear a breath away from my face. “You wear a liar’s mask. You speak a liar’s word. The greatest daemon couldn’t smell as foul as you. Those folk died, and those folk should remain dead. Not but the Celestials have a right to change that, and I’ll not see them snatched from their rightful place amongst their kin in the heavens. You hear?”
I held the man’s angry gaze. I didn’t know what to say to him. Had I been my old self, he would be dead. Had I been my old self, I wouldn’t be running for mayor either, let alone trying to perform true resurrection. In that crypt awaited fifty-three good thralls to be made, ten of which were beyond repair one way or the other. But that was not my goal. That was not my task, though a far easier one it would be for certain. I wanted to help. I wanted nothing more than to see these people welcome me and to make a shining beacon of life, after a long age of undeath. But, how could I succeed when the very people I meant to aid refused such help? No, killing him would do naught, and there seemed little convincing him—for now. I would need to find a new means for acquiring the chains I needed.
So, I simply gave a respectful tilt of my hat, and turned to seek another solution. I laughed to myself. It was probably foolish to think that much iron could be forged before these corpses passed the point of salvaging. I would need to find someone who already possessed the materials I needed.
That’s when I looked upon a smoldered warehouse whose sign still remained, South Terragard Mercantile and Commerce, and said to myself, “I better speak to them before Ronald tries to kill them.”
***
“I found tracks!” Molly yelled. She knelt to get a better look at the muddy earth. There was an animal’s prints sunken into it, with four pointed ovals and one large oblong shape each—the wolves they’d been tracking.
She scanned the surrounding brush for other signs of the beast, and sniffed the air. There was the faint scent of wet fur. It was indeed near. She knocked an arrow into her bowstring. Something was wrong. She whistled.
No response.
She feared the worst. Ivan had been right behind her. She crept back into the brush, eyes shocked wide.
A whistle returned from her left.
She skirted a path toward it.
“Skt!”
Molly swiveled to see Ivan kneeling in the brush beside her. She crouched next to him. “What is it?”
He pointed a hand at something that lay in an opening ahead.
She pushed aside some tall grass and saw that a mauled deer lay there. A dead deer was nothing out of the ordinary, and it added to the proof that a wolf or more were nearby. However, this deer’s body was not normal. The gashes in its neck and ribs were a sickly green, like they’d been tainted.
“What is that?” Molly asked, but when she turned, Ivan was no longer behind her. No, behind her was a wolf, whose fur bristled with a moldy sheen and whose dripping red jowls glowed with green luminescence.
“Zyo—”
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