Chapter 227

Chapter 227

Chapter 227

Flashing magics tore through the air on either of her sides as black hooded figures and screeching waves of undead intercepted enemies of the necropolis with overwhelming force.

Allie’s foot blurred - smashing down into the neck of a dying ratkin rogue, snapping the creature’s neck while sneered in contempt. With a lightning fast backhand she tore half the face off of another ratkin warrior who’d dared try to take her head on.

The creature was sent spinning, dead before it even hit the cavern floor. Crossbow bolts flew through the air towards her and simply bounced off her armor or were swatted away with contempt.

“Pathetic.”

Flaming skulls were born from the ether, and they began to scream before shattering the sound barrier and crashing into their targets in explosions of death.

Allie’s hands rose out to either side of her path as she walked, and the dead began to rise with them. Flesh peeled from bone, while necromantic magics gave life to the skeletons of those who’d been alive not mere minutes before then. Her echoing footsteps joined the groans and shrill screams of the dead over the din of battle, and as one - they rushed the oncoming ratkin vagabonds that were mostly squealing and running for their lives in a panic.

People didn’t call her the Butcher of Carnis for nothing.

The ground groaned underneath her, and ghosts swarmed up from the depths to tear at her enemies and inject themselves into the soul realms of the fleeing humanoid rodents. They died by the dozens, and then by the hundreds, while she and a dozen of her fellow necromancers watched the bodies pile up in the backdrop of a burning dwarvish village.

“They will stop coming eventually if I slaughter enough of them.” Allie said from underneath her hood, red eyes flashing from behind a skull mask and body flickering with teal and black energy. “Or they will be converted to our cause the hard way.”

Mara nodded with hands clasped behind her back while Nin and Vin chuckled beside them. “More bodies for the necropolis is never a bad thing. Ratkin from deepnest are still angry with the dwarves, but these dwarves are ours now. I agree, they will learn - or their bodies will join us in death. And I doubt their leadership will ever come out to publicly support these vagabonds either, their relationship with your highness is too valuable a thing for them to lose over little squabbles like this.”

“Either way, we win...” Vin said in a raspy voice, his body of bone quivering with excitement at all the dying raiders that’d sacked the dwarf village only an hour ago.

A dwarf village that was owned by none other than the Thane Necropolis.

He slammed his staff into the ground, bone fingers scraping against the wooden shaft, and shrieked to the cavern ceiling above to unleash a dark green wave of plague; one that rushed overhead and dove into the battling combatants where the living started to pick up nasty afflictions of disease at accelerated rates.

Allie snorted in disgust, walking forward through the underground realm and towards a tunnel descending further into the underdark. She didn’t glance back, and the other dozen necromancers followed with sweeping black cloaks billowing out behind them. “Have the patrols continue to run them down, and have our soldiers put the ratkin heads on spikes after we leave. We have business to attend to, otherwise I’d do it myself.”

Mara nodded, beginning to pull out a phone inscribed with sigils from the mechanics in Chicago.

Allie continued, only waiting long enough for Mara to relay the first message. “Send a letter to the queen of Deepnest. A letter letting them know that our guard patrols have just tripled. If she isn’t competent enough to get her people in check, I’ll start doing it for her. Tell her that word for fucking word. Fimrindle, scout ahead. And tell Lahn that I’m going to be late on our return after this unexpected fiasco, but that I’ll still be back in time for the ball in a couple weeks.”

The iron scarecrow exited concealment and nodded, vanishing into the tunnel labyrinths of the underworld like a silent wraith. Descending into darkness, with a horde of undead and the most elite necromancers of the Thane Necropolis at her back, Allie took her the first steps on the edge of known territory. Following a map supplied by the Bloodmare coven, they began their trek towards the underground vampiric city of Bernzee.

***

The dungeon was covered in viscera, organs, and blood - with Athela tearing through enemies with her large archdemon form on full display; standing over the corpses as a huge white drider touched by one of the seven primal sins. When the forward group had almost been overwhelmed, and now that Fay had already given their identities away, there wasn’t much more point to keeping hidden. She’d gone all out as soon as the last of their side was pulled by the skinwalkers, and the sheer amount of killing intent released from her aura had caused nearly half of the enemy dungeon monsters to cower, shriek and run.

Or at least they’d attempted to run, but their remains now plastered the walls, ceiling and floor of the domed room in all directions. The body-blender she’d become just continued pumping out death, and the dungeon had to resort to using some kind of mass-frenzy abilitiy that’d pulsed from the very structure of the dungeon in order to keep its minions fighting.

Dozens more armored rats and their mutant purple masters barrelled down the hall in a crazed frenzy, roaring as their claws and metal boots scraped against the stone floor. The hall shook, and another many-ton beetle crashed through one of the hallway walls to enter the swarming monsters that were driving forward towards the dungeon divers in an absolute rage.

Julie, who’d been grinning in amusement at the exchange, snorted a laugh and covered her mouth. But the others sitting at this particular campfire who also hailed from Jarla’s group didn’t look amused in the least. Instead, they were either very scared - or awestruck. Or a combination of both.

But mostly awestruck.

“Riven does not have a reason to kill you, Jarla.” Hakim said with a lowered voice and a calming smile, giving Julie a neck massage while the smaller woman continued to giggle amidst pleasured groans. “If it came down to choosing between one of his minions and you, sure - he’d kill you too. But he doesn’t randomly kill people just because he’s a vampire. He’s a good person, at least to us.”

The blonde male lightning mage with a ponytail who’d spoken with Riven previously before coming into this dungeon also looked rather nervous, but for different reasons entirely. He put on a pair of spectacles, squinted Riven’s way to the other campfire, and cleared his throat. “You all have known him that long then? I’ve read on the forums and even seen videos about the Elysium Altar Brightsville has. It is an oriented type that can recreate one’s soul into that which channels the Unholy Foundational Pillar. Do you think that perhaps he’d be willing to take us back to Brightsville with him when he next leaves? You said he can portal back, right? Maybe he could even give me some tips on the dark arts if I’m lucky enough. Oh... Maybe he could tell me how he got that warlock class of his so that I could get some demonic familiars too... God damn it, he has such a cool class!”

“I’m just happy we have that monster on our side!” One of the frontline fighters chimed in, cleaning off blood from a metal helmet with minor enchantments at the fire’s side. “We’re probably going to be escorted like this the entire way through! I’ve never completed a dungeon before!”

“Uhhh... Is he really a vampire prince?” A petite, young, raven-haired woman wearing fur jacket asked. She was one of the healers of Jarla’s group, and kept stealing glances Riven’s way. “Like, a real one?”

“He’s taken.” Julie stated flatly. “Give it up, butterflies.”

Tapping his foot against the floor impatiently, the mage had enough talking and stood up. He cleared his throat, closed his eyes to settle himself, and he turned his body to set himself on a path. “I can’t not at least ask him about it, after seeing that black lightning for myself. So here goes nothing.”

Stepping over a large divot in the floor made from the battle not long ago, the man pushed off with his basic wooden staff and headed over to the other fire. He got more than a few looks from others of his group, but no one said a word until he cleared the distance between himself and the rather famous - or infamous - vampire warlock so many people had heard about.

Sweat began to drip down his forehead, and he took in deep, calming breaths when Riven’s laughter died out and the warlock’s eyes shifted in his direction. The two demonic women, one on either side of him who stopped their laughing banter, also paused to stare expectantly his way. The only one on this side of the fire that didn’t give him any attention was the hulking four armed brutalisk drawing pictures with the little elf girl - using crayons on manilla paper.

Seconds ticked by.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Riven eventually asked, a curious eyebrow raised while leaning forward. “Everything ok?”

The lightning mage gulped. “Ye... Yes. Yes! I, uhm, was just hoping that I could, just maybe, get some p-pointers... Pointers! My name’s Jared, and I, uhm, have been something of a fan.”

“Oh? A fan? That’s new. But yeah, I’m not sure what it is you mean by pointers, I don’t have an orientation to the pillars you have, but we can talk. Go ahead and take a seat. Name’s Riven, though you probably already knew that - nice to meet you.”

They shook hands, and Jared fell flat on his butt next to Athela. Gratefully accepting a flask of what had to be vodka from the smell of it, Jared’s face brightened slightly and he gave a knowing grin before taking a small chug. “Ah that hits the spot!”

He could feel the stares of his comrades at his back, and it only made things worse for him because he was downright nervous to be sitting next to THE Riven Thane and his familiars.

“So...” Jared began, handing the flask back to Athela who took a swig of her own and began making gargling noises with the stuff after throwing her head back. “Pointers, yeah... How common is it that people in Brightsville swap their pillar orientations?”

“With the Elysium altar?” Riven clarified pointedly.

“Yes, that!”

“No idea. Athela? Fay? Genua? Any idea?”

They all shook their heads, but it was Luke who raised a hand - the old man putting down some cooked meat to the side before wiping off his hands. “I know a thing or two about it, because I actually considered it myself after becoming a thrall. I have the Storm Subpillar, subservient to the Fae Pillar, just like you Jared. Being a thrall also gives bonuses to any Unholy oriented subpillars and I was very curious about potentially throwing my weight around with the Blood type.”