Through the Fire and the Flames

[Charles]

"I can't believe I'm going back."

"You know the deal. Find the mages, kill the mages, get paid."

"I know, but you're aware that every single person on your list, to the best of my knowledge, is currently employed by the necromancer?"

"Why do you think we are putting bounties on their heads? Assasinating mage generals is just as effective as defeating their armies in the short term. It gives us breathing space. It gives us time to call up the willing to fight, or to convince the Dark Elves and Dwarves that unless he is stopped, their land will be overrun, or cut off and starved."

"Alright. If I survive, you will be paying me every penny of that twenty thousand gold, per head."

"You have my word. You know how to reach me."

The shadowy elf evaporated into the clear night air, leaving behind no trace but the fading mist of his breath in the cool mountain air.

"A damn mage his own self, but if his gold's good, I'll not say no. If it's not, I'll derive some satisfaction from killing him later." The man speaking to himself was frankly massive. Dressed in black plate mail, he stood 5'9", though he seemed much smaller, being nearly as massive as he was tall, and most of that mass being muscle. The helmet went on, and he hefted the massive hammer at his side, stepping off as quietly as he could into the darkness, which was to say he didn't actively attempt to stomp his feet, which was the extent to which he could limit the noise of his armor.

He was already nearly back into Raiaera, the only problem would be getting past the undead that roamed the entire nation. He could kill a prodigous number, probably, but he couldn't kill them faster than they could swarm him, and when they started swarming, he would be in trouble. Can't collect your bounty if you don't even reach the target.

The man clanked his way down the mountain passes, almost reaching the bottom. He hadn't seen any sign of undead yet, but that didn't mean anything other than exactly what it said. Yet. With that thought in mind, he took the final step out of the mountains, into Raiera, and a land plagued by the dead.

[Deus di Eclave]

Drizaghar will be slightly overpowered in this quest, as per a discussion with Charles.
Also, all bunnying in this quest was pre-approved.

Patrol Torris had been commanded to walk the border of Raiaera and Alerar and turn away any intruders into the region. Lieutenant Drizaghar had been ordered by Xem'zûnd himself not to fail. As if that’s really my choice, the dark elf necromancer thought to himself. He shook his head at the great necromancer’s audacity and turned to survey his troops. His patrol was formed of three legions; Clades, Den Caedo, and Gelucius. Each legion was under the command of a captain and responsible for a certain part of Drizaghar’s plan.

Legion Clades, which consisted entirely of lyncanthropes, was his scouting team. They searched the mountains between Alerar and Raiaera, ready to alert the rest of the patrol should they stumble across any trespassers. They were followed by the Den Caedo, the all-human legion. Den Caedo was both the first line of offense and the first line of defense. The lyncanthropes in Clades would alert this legion before traveling back to Drizaghar. Then the warriors of Den Caedo would attack the trespassers, typically dispatching them far before their lieutenant ever arrived.

Drizaghar traveled with Legion Gelucius since he had to control them with his necromancy powers. The legion consisted of zombies, their pure numbers making them a formidable force. The dark elf lieutenant had a tendril of his power in each of them, keeping them obedient but not controlling them entirely. He wanted his undead warriors to be able to act without his direct guidance. Still, the way he commanded them meant he had to remain near them at all times. The stench was unbelievable.

The lieutenant walked slowly along beside his forces, thinking of how he had taken charge of such a force. After his exile from the Underdark, Drizaghar had traveled Raiaera in search of answers. Finding the elves to be detestable, he had stumbled across a patrol in the tunnels under the Red Forest. In the days to follow, he and a homunculus had followed the patrol and attacked its general; taking over the small army and marching on Eluriand. Now he served Xem'zûnd, at least for a time…

“Sir,” the lycanthrope captain saluted Drizaghar with a fist over his chest before beginning his report. “Some of my men believe they have spotted a lone human adventurer leaving the mountains. I told them not to attack; they are currently waiting for orders with Den Caedo.” The captain paused for a breath, reading his commander’s face before asking, “What would you have them do?”

The drow necromancer closed his eyes rather than answer his captain right away. Extending his sensory powers, he felt the intruder’s Ka’thar as a strong glow. “This man is not to be taken lightly,” the dark elf warned. Opening his eyes, he continued, “Tell the men to stand down until Legion Gelucius arrives. Remain hidden.” The lycanthrope captain sprinted off toward the mountains, leaving Drizaghar to contemplate his next move.

Turning to the zombie legion’s captain, he ordered, “Double time until we reach the rest of the patrol.” Gelucius moved as quickly as their decomposing bodies would let them; shambling forward at twice their normal speed. Drizaghar allowed the two hundred zombie warriors to pass; he needed a moment alone to weave a spell.

Closing his eyes in concentration, the necromancer drew on the power of his own soul. Using his Ka’thar Manipulation, he twisted a small portion of the raw energy and tore it from his body. Gritting his teeth as pain overtook him; he focused on finishing the spell. “Fascath,” he whispered, needing his familiar for the final incantation. The ethereal drow emerged from the antifirmament, ready to serve his master. Drizaghar forced the fraction of his soul into his familiar, chanting the words to seal the spell and end his torment. As Fascath disappeared from the firmament, the drow necromancer breathed a sigh of relief.

No matter what happened in the battle ahead, he had just confirmed that he would survive. Even if he was killed, his soul would seek out its other part hidden away in his familiar. When his Ka’thar was reunited, he would be brought back to life in Fascath’s form. Then all he had to do was create another familiar should he need to repeat the process. The spell had served him well in the past; it made sense to use it to secure his future.

[Charles]

There's something out there. I'm quite aware of that fact. You don't know what it is. They aren't undead. If I can even vaguely sense them like this, they are very much alive. I know...

As always, the voices in their heads trailed off, each brother losing the tenuous connection between them as they talked so unknowingly. The encroaching force was large, and he was certain there would be forces allied with Xem'zund in the mix, as he crossed into Raiaera so close to the ruins of Valinatal. And where there were undead, there were necromancers, and where there were necromancers, there was money to be earned. Charles stopped in the center of the path he was on, and readied himself for the fight ahead. He checked his daggers to ensure they were loose in their sheaths, that his mace was hanging properly, and finally, that his massive warhammer was in hand, before setting off again. Every weapon at his disposal was ready at hand, his mind was primed to strike, and he was more than ready to crush bone with his hammer. There were two different feelings out there. He couldn't tell anything about them, he lacked the focus and control to filter everything out of his link, but he still had hints of other minds nearby.

Now he was just waiting for the attack, when the monstruous undead would show themselves, and their commanders would send their other forces against him. He admittedly had no real ability to get an accurate fix on the number of his enemies, but he thought it wasn't anything less than twenty, or more than fifty. It was a big enemy contingent if he was anywhere near accurate, but he had a few advantages that few fighters had, and he intended to exploit each and every one when the time came.

[Deus di Eclave]

“Head into the mountains from either side and then come down behind our intruder,” the dark elf lieutenant told his lycanthrope captain. The beast nodded and took off to spread the word to his troops. “Silas,” he called to the captain of Den Caedo, “Disperse half of your warriors among the undead; the other fifty should move in now.” The human nodded and likewise moved off. Drizaghar turned and surveyed the zombified warriors before him. Ah, putrid flesh, he thought in disgust.

Necromancy had always interested the drow, but he would never get used to the way the rotting corpses reanimated and mocked life with their movements. As opposed to many other necromancers, Drizaghar did not love the dead and wish to conquer the world with them. He merely utilized them as a tool to achieve his true ends; rid the world of the elves.

Still, in his current state, he had little choice but to listen to Xem'zûnd’s orders. Rebelling to follow his own desires would cause severe repercussions, destroying everything he had worked so hard to achieve. No, he would do as he was told… for now.

He called the zombie captain to him and told the creature to move Gelucius into position and attack the intruder on sight. The corpse slowly nodded its understanding and the legion marched across the field of battle. The dark elf fleeting wondered what skills the lone warrior possessed to have given off such a strong aura, but he pushed the thought from his mind.

Beginning a complex firewielding spell, Drizaghar could only wait for the human trespasser to show himself.

[Charles]

And there they are. I see them, shut up and let me do this. Man that's alot of them...

He had spotted the first ranks of Den Caedo cresting a hill, and he was well prepared to meet them. Hammer out, he waited slightly up the side of a second hill, in a thick stand of trees, making good use of elevation and cover to get as much of a chance against trhe oncoming horde as possible. He let his hammer drop for a moment, and used his free hand to pull his daggers out and throw them on the ground in front of him, and when the front ranks got close enough, he'd start putting them through enemy troops as fast as he could. That being done, he hefted his hammer once again, and waited.

Good idea. You might actually not die now. Tree cover, esoteric fire support, and a big hammer. Just no excuse to burn anything. There's always an excuse to burn something. I just haven't found it yet. There's a mage here. I'll burn something. Probably him. That's right, set fire to the guy that uses magic. Cause that goes over SOOO well. Never said it was popular. Just fun. For me at least. You're pathetic.

And then they were in range. A dagger licked out from the small pile at his feet, before reaching the oncoming line of human fighters. It was the opening blow in what would prove to be an unpleasant engagement for all involved, but it wasn't alone. Four more daggers flicked out in rapid succession towards the enemy line, trying to thin and slow their advance as much as possible before he had to actually fight them.

[Deus di Eclave]

Silas Koloblicin staggered as a throwing dagger slammed into his left bicep. Grunting as he ripped the knife from his flesh, he scanned the hillside before him with trained eyes. He cursed to himself as he saw their target, a warhammer gripped tightly in his hands and a sneer on his face. “Den Caedo,” he yelled back to his men, at least the fifty he had with him, “There’s our intruder!” The men bellowed their warcry, gripping their blades and charging up the hill. Silas grimaced as he realized what a tactical nightmare they were entering, but it was just one man… right?

~~

Den Caedo had disappeared over a hill as they stalked toward the trespasser attempting to enter Raiaera. Lieutenant Drizaghar had a few ideas where he could be headed, but that was inconsequential. His job was to stop the man through whatever means necessary. Like unleashing lycanthropes on him, the commander smiled, hoping his troops would make short work of the intruder.

He finished his constructed spell with a flourish of his hand and the whip of fire formed before him; its latent power was ready for use whenever he desired it. Hooking the whip to his belt, the drow necromancer began walking forward toward his zombie legion. He met the creatures just as they were about the crest the same hill Den Caedo had minutes earlier. Let’s see how my fighters are faring, he thought with a grin.

[Charles]

The dagger the first man had dropped leapt from the ground again, seeking the back of one of the charging soldiers. Charles had no intention of making this easy. The first man to reach his position would meet with a swing from the hammer. The second would meet with the back swing, and then it would be chaos. He pulled the daggers out of the encroaching troops one at a time, or picked them up from where they had been dropped, and flung them again into more of his opponents. He was quite hopelessly outnumbered, but he had a force multiplier in the form of his daggers. And if any of his enemies happened to have a small knife or two on them, he would have absolutely no qualms about snatching it off of their belt, and giving it to them point first.

"This is freaking nuts! Why the hell are there this many men working for the undead? And why are they HERE!?"

I'd say it's your own fault for being where they are, not the other way around. Shut up. I'm trying to concentrate. Do you have any idea how hard it is to throw things at people with your mind, while hitting others with a hammer? I've a fair suspicion.

The voice went quiet again, leaving him in peace as he struggled to slow down the oncoming enemy force with nothing but a few daggers and a hammer. Almost hopeless, but, that was the point of heroes wasn't it? To win hopeless battles, by force of arms or trick of mind.

[Deus di Eclave]

Small enchanted daggers plagued the charging men of Den Caedo like an angered swarm of wasps. The blades sunk into flesh wherever they could find purchase, more often then not causing merely a wound. However, there were already some men down for good and the frontlines hadn’t even reached their target yet. This would be why he emits such a strong pulse, the dark elf lieutenant realized. He grimaced as Silas met the man, the great warhammer swinging down and batting the captain aside like a rag doll.

Drizaghar expected the hammer would wreak havoc on his troops, but wasn’t too worried about them dying. While he preferred working with the living, commanding the undead was far easier. Closing his eyes and cupping his hands to his mouth, he breathed the words to a spell and reached his mind out to the fallen warriors on the hillside.

His eyes snapped open as his hands thrust forward, casting the spell across the ground. The Den Caedo fallen picked themselves up from the ground, their flesh already showing the advanced signs of rapid decay. Soon they would look like the rest of Gelucius; rotten, putrid zombies. The necromancer grabbed his whip and sprinted down into the valley.

Working his way through the rearguard of Den Caedo, the drow pushed aside his own warriors to get to the intruder in the trees above. Every human in his patrol carried two knives in sheathes at their legs and now the psionic used that equipment to his own advantage. Blades flew about everywhere, men screaming and grunting as the daggers found openings in their armor. The steel plate armor that Den Caedo wore gave little opening for the enchanted weapons, but still they found flesh. A blade flew toward Drizaghar and the fire whip cracked forward, its spell activating as it thrashed through the air. As the fiery tip struck the dagger, the projectile fell to the ground in a small pile of ash that was quickly swept away. Smiling, the dark elf pressed on.

A howl went up from the hillside above the trespasser’s position and Drizaghar heard the lycanthropes crashing through the underbrush. Unlike the humans, Legion Clades wore only light leather armor and carried no weapons but their own teeth and claws. He won’t be able to use any of his tricks on them, Drizaghar thought. Patrol Torris was out in full force, the intruder would have a hard time slaying them all. As the lycanthrope legion closed in from behind and Den Caedo fought just ahead of the incoming zombies of Gelucius, the dark elf necromancer grinned wickedly.

Try to stop us all, psionic, he sneered.

[Charles]

He saw the drow mage finally, and felt the magic coming. "Hah. Got him. Not today mage." He reached out with his mind to the necromancer, seeking the point where he controlled his magic. He was going to be very disappointed. The first undead stumbled to its feet, shuddered for a moment, and fell back to the ground as he atempted to raise it. The magic, unable to complete itself, turned back on its weilder with terrifying force. Charles halfway wondered if necromancy contained an elemental property. It would be nteresting to see if his skin sprouted burns, or started rotting in place.

The oncoming lycanthropes would be a problem, but with the daggers still wreaking havoc among the soldiers, and him adding further weapons to the mix from the belts of downed enemies, it would be enough to keep them busy for a time, which was why he turned his back on the approaching soldiers, and met the first lycanthrope, leaping towards his face, with yet another prodigous swing of his hammer. The man had been a minor threat. The wolves bearing down on him were a major one. He kept the daggers flying through the air behind him, and began edging towards his left, to bring the entire enemy force to his front, and bring them in among the trees where his dvantageous position would be amplified.

"Are you FUCKING SHITTING ME!" The cursing was something one rarely heard from the soft spoken mage hunter, but this situation certainly called for it, as he was beset by what seemed to be hundreds of enemy troops, and at least one incredibly aggravating mage. He couldn't keep this up much longer, he could already feel his head pounding with the strain of his assault on the human attackers, and coupled with the strain of backlashing the mages spell, along with preparing to spring his trap, and readying to stop another spell in the same manner if need be, he could feel his nose getting ready to bleed like a stuck pig.

OOC: This was discussed previously with Deus. I have permission to describe the effects of my characters abilities on Driz, as long as I don't actually state any injuries on his character.

[Deus di Eclave]

Though the tendrils of necromantic power were many, Drizaghar felt each once as if it was the only cord of connection he had. So when one of the tendrils snapped and lashed back at him, he felt it intensely. The pain sent him to his knees where he gripped his hair with curled fingers and rode out the waves of agony. When they subsided, he mentally traced the broken cord and saw a reanimated Den Caedo warrior falling to the ground for a second time. Why? was the only thing the drow could think.

Drizaghar reached out and grabbed the nearest human he could find, dragging the man to him and unleashing the powers of necrosis stored in the ring on his middle finger. The spell surged through the man, sending him into convulsions as his soul’s very energy was stripped away. When the drow’s necrosis had run its course, he stood and dusted off his black leather armor. It had to be done, he thought, looking down at the lifeless husk of a man without remorse.

“Legion Celer!” he called out to the troops storming up the hill, “To me!” Immediately, twelve of the strongest guards in Den Caedo turned from their positions and made their way down the slope to their lieutenant. They weren’t a true legion, having been chosen specifically by the drow for a moment just like this. Forming a wall of muscle around him, the group made their way across the steep grade and into the forest. When they were under the cover of the trees, Drizaghar turned to them and spoke urgently.

“I need six of you to get me that hammer. The rest of you, force this man into the clearing just ahead. Go now!” The men ran up the hill, their blackened mythril armor allowing them to blend into the foliage with ease. The bastard killing his men right and left would never know what hit him. Drizaghar followed the members of Legion Celer up the hillside, letting them lead him to the intruder. The fire whip found his hand once again and its flaming tongue licked the ground as the necromancer walked toward what he imagined was going to be a difficult battle.

Readying several spells in his mind, he broke into the clearing as he had planned and waited for his enemy to arrive. Whoever you are, you will not live to see another sunrise. It will be a pleasure to welcome you into my army…