The Wandering Inn_Volume 1, page 180
“Thing, I order you to—”
What was Toren supposed to do? He agonized over the problem. He couldn’t kill the girl; he even had orders to protect her and ‘show her the ropes’, which sadly didn’t mean hang or garrote her either.
Okay. Toren could do that. He was good at following orders. It was just…the thing was…
The thing was…he didn’t care about the girl Erin had hired. He did not. He didn’t care that Erin paid more attention to her than to Toren, he didn’t care that the other girl was doing his job (albeit very poorly), and he especially didn’t care that she was a worthless waste of flesh and space.
She was just so tiresome, that was all. It was only that. Yes, only that. And she gave him orders which was…meaningless. They were just words. They didn’t bother Toren at all.
It was simply inconvenient, and Toren disliked the time he was wasting trying to teach her. But that all changed when Toren discovered he could do very enjoyable things to the girl when Erin wasn’t watching. It was fun; pleasurable even. First he used fists and feet, and then fingers, and then he just had to push to have fun. He could stare of course, but that wasn’t nearly as entertaining.
A distraction. In the end, that was all it boiled down to. After Toren discovered the fun that could be had from the girl, and managed to get her to do some chores, it became less of his problem and more of Erin’s. Teaching the girl was a mandatory part of the day Toren resigned himself to, which was only punctuated by a few enjoyable moments. He did what Erin asked of him, but when she was done and the new girl was sniveling or hiding, he went out and hunted.
—-
The Goblins were creeping through the snow, ten of them, dressed in grey winter pelts of some animal. Toren watched them for a while, but they weren’t part of Rags’ Goblins. He had seen them all, and they were coming from the south. He leapt up from the snow where he’d been lying, almost invisible, and ran the first one through. The second he grabbed and strangled with one hand as he began to slaughter the rest.
They couldn’t hurt him, not without magic or enough force to scattered his bones or grind them to dust. One of them tried to cast a spell, but Toren hacked him to bits before he could finish.
—-
The wolverine hunted through the snow, searching for something he could kill. He took a step and slipped on something smooth. Toren opened his jaws and bit upwards. A shame he didn’t have a Drake or Gnolls’ teeth.
—-
The second Corusdeer went down far more easily than the first. Toren had taken to carrying a small hatchet—one of the weapons he’d liberated from dead adventurers in the Ruins—and he threw it and scored a deep cut on the deer’s leg. It was easy to kill then; Toren ran forwards and cut at it from behind, evading the hooves with ease.
But this time, he miscalculated. The Corusdeer that had wandered too far from the herd was nevertheless within sight of them, and as Toren butchered the animal, the rest of the herd thundered towards him.
The skeleton heard a groan, or perhaps some kind of call, and then he realized he was surrounded. But Toren just raised his sword, and wondered how many of them he could kill.
The Corusdeer’s horns began to glow white-hot, and then the wind picked up. Toren glanced across the plains and saw that the wind had kicked up a cloud of freshly fallen snow. It blew towards Toren and the herd of reindeer, a wave of ice. But as it hit the deer’s glowing horns, the snow suddenly became steam.
They had been waiting for that. Even as the blinding steam rushed past Toren, the Corusdeer charged at him, dark shapes and burning horns and hooves in the haze.
Toren ran at them, howling silently. The first charge knocked him off his feet, but then he was among the herd, slashing, stabbing, tearing. The deer stampeded around him, and Toren felt his bones turning black and catching fire from the heat.
The deer were clustered around the skeleton, swiping with their horns, heedless of the heat which somehow didn’t set fire to their own thick hides when suddenly, as one, they turned and fled. Toren lay on the ground, bones still smoking, and stared at the herd as they raced away across the plains. He’d nearly forgotten about the gem of [Terror], but it had its uses.
It was half a day before he could walk again, but he leveled up from that battle all the same.
—-
The wild boar wasn’t one of the ones herded by shepherds of Liscor. He was an alpha among his pack, and he led them through the snow, foraging for edible food in this frozen landscape. In the summer of course they shed their fur, but right now they needed all the warmth they could get, so the herd huddled together.
Not just for the body heat of course; the boars were weak individually, especially given the numerous deadly monsters living on the plains, but together their tusks and explosive power could gore all but the deadliest enemies.
Still, this boar was taking his herd further south, away from Liscor. True, the threats in the south were just as bad; Rock Crabs and Shield Spider nests might be dangers around Liscor, but deadly tribes of Gnolls and other monsters like Wyverns would slaughter even a group as large as his.
But the alpha boar had made up his mind. His pack had just passed by a freshly slaughtered monster, a tall, semi-bipedal creature with leathery skin, and no face. It had only a mouth and no eyes, but its long talons and barbed forearms more than made up for its lack of sight.
It was a formidable enemy that was twice as tall as the alpha boar, and yet it had been brutally hacked apart. It looked like something had killed it, but not even stopped to consume it. What could be so dangerous?
The boar snuffled, raising his snout to the air. His nose was just as good as his eyes at determining where threats lay. He called to the rest of his herd and they followed him as he pushed a path through the snow.
Toren let them go. He was running low on magic from Erin, and he didn’t think he could win against the boars without using the ruby gemstone. And he didn’t level if he used that, or so it seemed.
—-
They were a Gold-rank team that had arrived late to Liscor. Late to the undead invasion, and too late to claim the best inns in the city, which was the most important thing. They weren’t happy about it, but they could still rent an inn to themselves.
“It beats staying at that little Adventurer’s Guild they’ve got in the City, that’s for certain.”
Halrac, their lead [Scout] and [Marksman] complained as they rode on horses through the snow. He peered at the magical compass in his hands and stared at the snowy landscape ahead before motioning the group forwards.
“I don’t think they would have had room for us even if we’d asked. Dead gods, what a city to come to. Are there no adventurers higher than Bronze-rank here?”
“A few, but the city doesn’t need many. They have a strong Watch.”
That came from one of the two mages. Halrac grunted at Typhenous irritably; not so much for the explanation as the mage’s riding style. He was sitting uncomfortably on the horse, who was clearly not fond of the older man, nor the tight grip the mage took on the reigns.
“Well, that might be helpful for us. Less competition that way.”
Halrac pointed left, and the group skirted a Shield Spider nest. He kept looking around, but the other mage—a light-skinned girl with stitch marks around her hands, neck, and knees and a long robe sighed irritably.
“That’s only for now. Already Silver-rank adventurers and even some Gold-rank ones are flooding into the city. Word’s spreading about the dungeon underground, and even the undead invasion hasn’t scared many off. Did you see the one talking to the [Paladin] and one with the hammer in the back? That’s a Silver-rank adventurer named Frostfox; she normally takes on missions solo, but even she’s teaming up. Unless we get a jump on the others, we might be upstaged by a Silver-rank team, or another Gold-rank one. There’s already two in the city!”
Halrac opened his mouth to reply, but their leader, a man with a greatsword and magical armor replied. His name was Ulric, and Halrac was even more concerned about his horse, which had to bear both the man, his sword, and his armor through the snow.
“No worries. The guardian of the crypts that attacked the city was more than a match for any Silver-rank team, or even a group of them. How many joined up to crack open that place? Four? Five? And they were all slaughtered by the Lesser Guardian.”
“Makes you wonder how we’ll do.”
Halrac muttered the words under his breath, but his three companions didn’t look worried. And in truth, he understood Ulric’s unspoken point. Silver-rank groups might team up as much as they wanted, but even a hundred Silver-rank teams wouldn’t be able to match the magical items and abilities of a Gold-rank team.
“What about Named Adventurers? If some of them arrive—”
“If some arrive, we’d better have a good foothold in the dungeon already. Which is why we need to find the entrance, Halrac.”
Revi glared at Halrac and looked at the magical compass in his hands pointedly. He opened his mouth to retort—he and Revi got along least well—but he turned his focus back to his task instead.
“We’re close to the center of the magical disturbance, but there’s nothing but snow and dirt around for miles.”
“Damn. Another false trail? Should we just start digging and hope we hit a wall or something?”
Typhenous sighed loudly and pointedly at the two non-mages as he pulled on his horse’s reins to make it stop.
“Even if you wanted to dig however far down it is to this dungeon, I doubt you’d be able to blast through the walls without a serious amount of effort. Frankly, I don’t believe I could do it even with Revi’s help. No; we need to find an opening in the earth, or a surface tunnel. The compass should flash when it detects an opening of some kind.”
“It’s flashed five times already today, each time over a Shield Spider nest.”
Halrac snapped back at Typhenous, irritable and cold. He pointed at the distant mountains looming over the plains.
“It might be the entrance is in one of those damn mountains, don’t you think? And if that’s the case we’d better join up with other teams as well because the High Passes are not a place for a single Gold-rank team to go exploring alone. And stop gripping those reins so tight! You’re hurting your mount!”
“Calm down, Halrac. We bought these mounts outright; it’s not like we’re hurting the animals too badly. We’ve got potions if they need it, and we need to get a drop on the others. Let’s keep searching.”
The [Scout] scowled, but he gently nudged his horse into a walk again. He knew he was being irritable—well, moreso than usual, but they’d been travelling day and night to get here before the others. The [Message] spell Revi had received from Liscor had told them of the dungeon and it’s possible riches, and that was enough to motivate them to make the thousand-mile journey.
“Alright. Let’s head towards that forest over there. Odds are the entrance is buried behind all those trees or overgrown.”
Halrac began to ride in that direction, but raised his hand just as quickly. The other three adventurers stopped as he squinted across the plains. His vision was far greater than normal, and so he was the first one to see the undead.
“Is that skeleton…fighting a Snow Golem?”
Revi frowned as the group slowly drew closer to the odd sight. Yes, in the distance a lone skeleton was exchanging blows with a Snow Golem of roughly the same height. It was an uneven fight; Halrac could already tell the skeleton was going to win. It had speed, reach, and strength on the Snow Golem, and even as he watched the undead creature speared the Golem through its vulnerable head.
“Now there’s a sight. Do you suppose it’s one of the undead left over from the attack on Liscor?”
Typhenous shook his head again. He gestured at the skeleton as it stomped the Golem into the snow and planted its sword in the snow.
“Look at how it moves. It’s no ordinary skeleton. It must be a revenant of some kind.”
“Revenant? You mean a possessed undead? That’s dangerous.”
Halrac hated the undead. They were hard to kill with his arrows, and some, like ghosts, couldn’t be harmed by normal weapons at all. It was part of the reason why he worked in a team; a mage was always useful when fighting those horrors.
He’d already put an arrow to his bowstring when Revi grabbed his arm. He glared at her.
“What?”
“Don’t kill it. If it belongs to the city, we’ll have to pay for its destruction.”
Ulric snorted in disbelief.
“I’ve heard the local Watch uses odd creatures, but an undead?”
“Why else would it be attacking a Snow Golem?”
“Maybe the Golem attacked first. Let me handle this.”
Reluctantly, Halrac lowered his bow. Revi shot him a smile which he did not appreciate or return, and opened a pouch on her belt. Halrac eyed the scrap of cloth the stitch-girl pulled out suspiciously.
“If you’re just going to destroy it, let me—”
“I’m not going to destroy the skeleton. I’ll capture it. If it belongs to the city, we can return it, otherwise, I’d love to know how strong the spirit bound to the corpse is.”
“And steal the spirit? I’m not having an undead following me around. It’ll spook the horses.”
Revi rolled her eyes as she held the scrap of cloth to the air. It was flesh-colored, much like the fabric that made up her body.
“I’m no [Necromancer], as I’ve told you a thousand times Halrac. But I can still use a spirit, especially if it’s memory of being alive is still strong.”
Her hands began to glow, and Halrac uneasily moved his mount away from Revi as her voice deepened. She tossed the scrap of fabric into the air and spoke.
“Arise, ancient warrior. Heed the call and return to fight once more.”
A figure shimmered into being. He was a tall man, dressed in bronze armor, holding a mace and shield. His face was completely blank, but he snapped to attention as Revi spoke.
“Capture that skeleton. Break his limbs if you must, but deliver the skeleton and torso to me intact. Go.”
Instantly, the armored warrior shot off through the snow like an arrow. Halrac had to admit he was impressed by the man’s speed even in armor, he seemed to leap from spot to spot, so that each step covered ten feet as he closed with the skeleton.
As the two began to fight, Halrac eyed Revi.
“I still don’t understand how that’s different from revenants. They’re spirits of dead people bound into bodies and forced to obey the caster. How’s that different from your summons?”
Revi scowled at him as Typhenous sighed loudly and Ulric shook his head. She was the newest addition to their team, Griffon Hunt, and he still wasn’t used to her. Come to that, he’d be happier if they were still hunting Griffons for pay. It was dangerous, but it wasn’t unpredictable like exploring a new dungeon.
“They’re constructs, not ghosts or spirits. They bear some of the power of their previous bodies, but they don’t have minds. I call them from the memory of souls past, but they’re not the souls themselves. If they were, they’d be far stronger.”
“And that’s your ancestor, is it?”
“Perhaps. Not all String People are related. His name was Kelthor, but he’s only a shadow of the warrior he was in life.”
“Still strong enough to take on a lone skeleton, though. I hope you’ve got enough for when we fight a real enemy.”
“With any luck, I’ll have another one soon enough. I can imprint the soul bound to that skeleton and let the spirit go, and then we’ll all be happy.”
Halrac was never happy, but he watched as the skeleton began to fight with the summoned phantom anyways. His eyes travelled to the right, and he called out to Ulric.
“Corusdeer. A herd of them. We’d best not get too close unless you want a real fight.”
The big man nodded.
“I see them. We’re far enough away and upwind. The only risk is that Revi’s pet warrior or the skeleton attract them.”
“If it comes to that I’ll recall the warrior or banish him on the spot. Stop worrying, Halrac. Watch; the skeleton’s nearly done.”
It was true. A shadow of his past self Kelthor’s image might be, but he was still far stronger than a normal skeleton. Halrac estimated he was around Level 25, give or take a bit. Not enough for a Gold-rank with his poor equipment, but certainly the equal of any Silver-rank adventurer.
He was bashing the skeleton mercilessly, and the undead was falling back, unable to strike back. Indeed, the armored man was still unharmed because every time the skeleton did try to attack, his sword would glance off the armor or shield of the man.
“Ancient equipment. How old is this construct?”
“Oh, I got it from my grandmother. He’s declined in power since she used him, but it’s a testament to his original strength. And he’s quite efficient.”
Kelthor’s phantom had caught the skeleton with a strike that knocked one arm clean off. The skeleton retreated now, running backwards swiftly as he deflected strikes. Halrac cursed.
“Damn. They’re headed straight for the Corusdeer herd.”
“Not if I can help it. Kelthor! Stop the skeleton now!”
It was impossible for Kelthor to have heard Revi’s actual words at that distance, but he did nevertheless. He sprinted at the skeleton, swinging his mace faster. And the skeleton—
Halrac felt the chill on his heart and nearly screamed out loud. Fear, pure and unrelenting, suddenly poured over him for a brief instant. Revi and Typhenous cried out, and Ulric gritted his teeth. Kelthor suddenly paused and stumbled backwards, and the skeleton ran towards the Corusdeer herd.
The [Scout] turned to the other adventurers, feeling the terrible terror gripping him disappate as quickly as he’d come. Ulric fingered the protective stone at his chest, and Revi and Typhenous collected themselves as best they could.
