Towards the City of Drascir

We made our way north. Erol knew where his companions were held, so we followed his lead. We soon encountered charr patrols, but decided that it was best to avoid confrontation and hurry instead. Soon, we arrived at Drascir’s front gate, but unfortunately, the drawbridge was up.

Weakened from years of imprisonment and exhausted from walking, Erol collapsed. Ignoring Blutfaust’s advice of leaving the former prisoner behind, the prince decided to stay with him: “You find another way across and lower the bridge for us.”
Mhenlo tried to argue that staying behind in charr territory was too dangerous, but Rurik refused to change his mind.

We started going east, but after only a few steps, we were surprised to hear a shout for help.
“Where did that come from?” the monk asked.
“There!” Cynn pointed across the river of tar where a charr was charging at a female soldier.
“Run”, Mhenlo shouted, and off we ran.

Only the necromancer stayed behind. “You’re never going to learn, pathless. Do not charge towards the danger, or you’ll eventually run towards your death.”
He sighed and started walking towards the river. “Well, I guess I’ll have to help them out. Elementalist, Monk, and Ranger; how could those stand against the forces of the charr all alone?”
Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks. He had heard a sound behind him; only faint, but certainly steps. He strengthened his grasp around his staff and turned around in an instant, but dropped his defence as soon as he recognized the follower.

“Where have you been again?”, he asked the dog. Barks.
“You’re not telling me, are you?” the necromancer replied. The dog barked again, and his bones rattled as he wagged his tail. For a brief moment, the necromancer stared into the dog’s eyes. Small, yellow orbs of light inside the empty skull’s eye sockets stared back. “Well then, Dust”, the necromancer told the dog, “let’s get going.”
He turned again as he was approached by two more figures that greeted him. “Oh, you actually went back and brought those two.”


By a hair’s breadth, Cynn evaded the charr’s attack. Swearing, she backed down while she summoned a fireball and sent it against the only remaining charr. The ball burst into flames as it hit the creature’s chest and knocked it back. The smoke quickly rose, but to our surprise, the charr did not seem to have received any damage. Its furry hide was ablaze, but instead of burning to a crisp, the Flame Wielder drew strength from the flames. Like a fiery demon, the creature rose and moved towards the elementalist who could not believe her eyes. With both hands, the beast that now was only remotely recognizable as a charr raised its giant flaming staff high into the air and then brought it down on the human.

Cynn snapped out of the shock and dodged the staff, but she could not evade the magic that surrounded the weapon. She cried out loud as she was devoured by the flames, and hit the ground still fuming.

Mhenlo immediately rushed to help her. I tried to cover him with the bow and arrows I had picked up earlier, but despite its size, the attacker was agile enough to evade my projectiles. I reached for another arrow as a warrior rushed past me. While the hits did not connect to the creature no matter how fast the warrior swung the mighty hammer, the flaming beast was forced to back down, away from monk and elementalist. Someone behind me shot an arrow at the beast. It jumped sideways to avoid the projectile once again, but then suddenly fell down. One of the Flame Wielder’s fellows, a charr we had slain only moments ago, had grabbed the creature’s leg and made it fall. Shouting, the mage tried to shake it off, but the bones beneath the flesh, surrounded by a dark green glowing haze, did not loosen their deadly grip. I watched in awe, the charr in fear, as he looked up and hammer met head.


“Hello there”, the necromancer slowly approached the female soldier who lay in her own blood. A massive wound gaped in her chest.
“What is your name, soldier?”
— “Breena Stavinson. I – I’ve watched this road… for ten years —”
“It does not look like you will make it”, the necromancer continued.
— “I know that”, the soldier replied with a faint voice.
“Well then, Soldier Breeva Stavinson”, he asked, now towering above her, “answer this question. Do you want to fight the charr?”
The dying woman seemed surprised about the question, but soon answered. “Of course.”

The necromancer raised his hand and it seemed like night fell around him. With a mad smile on his lips, he began reciting an old spell.
“Kunōhhan, kunōhhan,
habutu den tōdu shon māru gerōhhan,
dohha nōi rēben shenku ihha ōihha;
aufu dassu aufu māin beferu forutan
īā forugetu, woraufu ihha mihha feruruzzen kann!”
Slowly, the necromancer raised his hand higher and higher above the woman’s head. “Eruhēbetu ōihha!”

As on his command, the fallen soldier’s skin split in two. Blood dripped onto the cold ashes of Ascalon as the bones began to rise and left their shell of flesh to form an undead abomination.

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