On a battlefield west of Grimmarn a battle took place. The Gluils were being pushed back into the Oxan stronghold by the Necromancers-the most despised race on the 13 continents. They were short in stature, however, they make it up with the incredible black magic they wielded. Their spells raised the dead from their slumber and forced them to attack whoever the Necromancers commanded them to. Their war vests were cloaks, darkish blue with an emblem on the back. It was a skull with a rose petal on its forehead. It reminded them that without life death would never occur. That was the essence of their magic-death itself. In order to become a full-fledged Necromancer they would need to complete a ritual forbidden in all continents except Necaria.
They were sent to its capital-Dormtor. There they were given tasks. They were different for everyone. Some would be to kill an innocent human, others would be to slay a magical beast. The magical power of the one who would be slain would determine the strength of the necromancer. Many chose to go for a powerful being but not many come back from their quests. After they return they are given a choice to participate in a ritual to make them even more powerful or let them leave with the power they already have.
The ritual would be held on a dark moon in complete darkness. Around a hundred apprentices who would participate had to murder each of their competitors. Only one is to be alive at the end. And all of the dead bodies would become his to command. Sometimes there would be more than a hundred or less than fifty participants. This year in particular the number was close to a hundred.
The Gluils on the other hand were the extreme opposite of these death bringers. They were always amused and intrigued by life and they never brought death upon their enemies. They were a peaceful people. The only time in their thousand-year-old history when war was a part of their daily lives was a mere decade. Their ruler at the time, Count Klimu, was a victim of a rare disease which made his brain to slowly rot while still being alive. The rot was spread slowly and affected his decisions. His rule was chaotic and he was brought down because of a rebellion. Due to there being no one to notice his sickness he went down as the idiot king.
Other than that particular decade they had proven their worth in the world by advancing in medical studies. Half of the known diseases were countered with a vaccine and the other half were treatable with herbal potions. Sickness at this time was only an illusion. That was the reason for the Necromancers to invade the territory of Gamelia and attack the Gluils. They wanted people to die so they can gather more minions. They don’t need people to live and be cured.
“High-lord Leor, we have to seek help from the Alliance of Greatness!- said Hern, visibly showing her concern for the well-being of her homeland.- We can’t allow the Necromancers to advance more than they already have. If the Alliance hears about this threat, they are sure to react fast and send help.”
The High-lord wanted to do so as well, however he knew something she didn’t. The Alliance informed him of this attack and specifically told him not to involve them. A group of elders stood atop the Alliance and all were at each other’s necks. They wanted control over everything and it made them break a few laws, but before that, they would ignore a couple of moral values.
They didn’t want to send help because if one of them had sent an army or even a squad, the others would consider them a vulnerable target for an attack. The other reason would be that if they send someone, they would definitely be giving the Necromancers manpower and nobody wanted that. Even the civilian citizens of the thirteen continents would agree with the old geezers on that.
“Hern, the Alliance will not move for us. Even if we send a messenger, he would not make it in time to save us. The only thing we could do is fight until we die.”
“I refuse to die. I will not die”
The conviction in her eyes made Leor remember his youth. All the wars he’d been in suddenly flashed before him. He was always in Death’s plans, but he always escaped nearly dead. His ruff look and past experiences shaped him into the man he is at the moment- a high-lord with many achievements under his belt. He has seen things that no one should, but he made it out alive and well. The scars on his back going out of his armaments onto his neck like vines started aching. The battle wasn’t over, yet he thought the only way out is death. If not for Hern, he probably would have succumbed to that temptation. He refocused his gaze and looked at her face and then looked around. Over a hundred warriors were holding off skeletons and half-rotten corpse while trying to evade a barrage of fireballs and ice lances directed at them. The battle scars ached again, but this time he was sure what they wanted. They need the blood of his enemies. He let out a mighty battle cry.
“Warriors of Gluil, you who have fought a battle with diseases and saved hundreds of lives are now faced with a mighty dilemma. We now have to kill in order to survive. Our ancestors will be furious but they would be even more furious if we die. Warriors of Gluil, you have fought a battle for every life threatened by sickness, but now you will fight a battle for your lives threatened by the plague we call Necromancers. Kill and live, warriors. For our ancestors!”
His men’s moral now boosted by his great words allowed the injured to ignore the pain from their wounds. All the villagers took objects resembling weapons and went berserk. The ones who couldn’t find even a shovel collected pebbles and threw them at the oncoming skeleton army. If they happened to find a bigger rock, they considered themselves lucky. That meant that they could take down two of them with it or even more because after it slew its target it bounced to another one.
On the front line, a row of trained warriors held off any enemy that might go into the village. Among them, there was Arnen armed with a halberd. He stood in front of them all and with a slash of his weapon he sent at least seven or eight of the Necromancer’s minions to the afterlife-where they belonged. His rugged skin indicated that he was experienced in the art of war. The Gluils weren’t battle lovers but he was a mercenary hired by them. It didn’t take him long to notice a massive flaming boulder flying towards him. It had blue flames. In a normal environment, one could have assumed that these flames were the result of a particular chemical reaction, however, the mercenary saw something else. He saw the fires of Hell. They burned in a different color to show him that eternal torment would be the least painful treatment he would receive there.
The blue-flamed boulder’s impact squashed them like bugs. Not a single warrior from the front lines was fast enough to evade it. The soil burned relentlessly and was spreading fast. The smell of the smoke was toxic and even the skeletons who didn’t have a nose were falling one after the other due to its toxicity.
Leor was standing atop Vilart Watch Tower. It was the only place where he could see the battlefield in full view. His eyes were proud of his men who gave their lives to protect the innocent, however his soul was crying. He couldn’t bear to lose them. His grief overcame him and he picked his sword. Its name was given to it by the blacksmith who forged it. It was called The Weaver of Hope. Even in the most desperate situations the blade would be useful and would help the wielder outsmart death.
“It’s time to test you yet again, old friend.”
Leor jumped from the watchtower and landed on the ground creating a sound wave capable of blowing away a few of the skeletons. Fire orbs started to come after him one by one, but he changed their direction with a slash of his sword. The Necromancers noticed that their spell wasn’t enough to kill him so they changed it into a water torrent falling from the sky. At first, the high-lord laughed at their futile try until he looked at the sky. Dark clouds hid the blue color of the sky and lightning rained down upon the battlefield. It couldn’t make out friend or foe and struck everything that had even a drop of water on it.
The high-lord leaped from place to place still heading to the direction of the Necromancers. The lightning was not able to keep up with his pace. He reached the ten Necromancers that were responsible for this slaughter. He leaped again and while falling aimed his sword to the head of the first one. He died and nine more were left.
Some of the warriors saw his act and it boosted their morale even further. They swung their swords in a crazed manner, as one should if his life depended on it. They took down all of their prey and went to help other squads.
His eyes filled with anger from the indifference in their eyes. It was like he never killed one of them.
“You cannot take lives if you do not first value them. If you cannot understand that then you don’t deserve to wear that emblem on your backs.”
His incredible presence made all of them step back but they still tried to cast their spells and summon more skeletons. Leor’s eyes turned red with anger and he started leaping again. He killed three of them with a charging slash. He cut four more in half, three of them horizontally and the other one vertically. The only two left were looking at each other as if they had a plan for a similar situation. They spoke in unison and waved with their hands as if they were drawing something.
“Halem Niar Goron Hira’a Noctum Hamu Liamus Rin’nuk. Halem Niar Goron Hira’a Noctum Hamu Liamus Rin’nuk. Halem Niar Goron Hira’a Noctum Hamu Liamus Rin’nuk.”
The ground was shaking and after a moment was split open. A giant statue made of mud came from it and attacked Leor. Thankfully he knew that fighting a summoned creature was close to impossible and went straight to the Necromancers.
Huge walls of dirt blocked his every attack. He tried searching for the weak spot of the golem by slashing at each part of it, but it just regrew everything that it was missing. After a few more moments of meaningless swing of his sword, he attacked the Necromancers again. He noticed that his reaction time was slowing. He felt tired from everything he had done up to this point. His power was diminishing.
“It worked, Valik! The Curse of Weakening worked! Now we can destroy this pesky warrior and make him our slave.”-yelled one of the Necromancers through a sinister grin.
Leor felt like his life force was being sucked straight out of him. He used his sword as a cane. He was kneeling and couldn’t get up anymore. He knew he would die in a battle, but he didn’t want to die in this one. None of the races on the thirteen continents wanted to be the Necromancers minions. No one knew what it would be like and no one ever wanted to find out. Leor wanted to at least not give them the pleasure of killing him so he pointed his sword towards his stomach.
Just as he was about to thrust it into his skin, an arrow flew by him. He was a little shocked and thought to himself that it is possible to have been the doing of an archer skeleton. He looked up at the Necromancers and saw the arrow sticking out of the head of one of them. Half of the golem dried up and fell to the ground. Another arrow flew by the high-lord and killed the remaining one. The golem was now completely dried up and fell.
“High-lord we slew all of the bone bags and had nothing to do so we decided that you needed a helping hand, or in this case a helping bow. - said Hern while shooting a phantom arrow into the Highlord's chest.-This should remove the curse they put on you.”
“Thanks for coming!”
“You’re welcome!”
All the troops gathered around Leor. They were expecting a sign from him that would mark the end of the battle. They all watched him as he picked his Weaver of Hope from the ground and stood up. He then lifted it in the air and let out a battle cry. The lands filled with his voice, a moment later the soldiers joined in. If you were their enemy and you heard their voices, you would run far away, so they wouldn’t hunt you down.
A couple of days after the battle, a burial was held for all the people who lost their lives. Their corpses were set on fire and reduced to ashes. This way the necromancers wouldn’t be able to retrieve their corpses to make minions out of them. As Leor stood atop the tower to observe the surrounding area for more attackers he was enraged by the decision of the elders. He had some idea of the politics of their realm, but still, he knew he had to do something to avenge his fallen brethren. He considered going to Mecramp the city of mercenaries, however, going there alone is a bad idea. You never know when someone might attack you. He then thought about another option, then a third one, and so on, until he felt a presence behind him. He turned around and saw Hern.
Her beautiful figure outshined even the sun that was behind her, making her look like a Godsend. There were a few of them in this world we live in, however Leor never suspected that one would be so close to him. Her beauty couldn’t hide her furious expression.
“Leor, I’m planning on going to the Mecramp to find someone who would kill the elders. Would you like to come for company?”
“What brought that about?”
“They killed him. They killed my little brother. A skeleton infiltrated several houses but killed only my little brother Gin. If those elders had sent reinforcements he would not have died. I won’t rest until I kill the geezers and right after them the Necromancers.”
Leor felt her determination. He thought about it for a second, but he gave in to her temptation. He wanted to avenge his comrades as well, so their reasons collided.
“Be ready in two days. We will leave early in the morning for Mecramp. Polish your sword and armor.”
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