Algranon saw himself in his village, before the demons attacked. He was in his bed trying to sleep when he heard a noise. He went downstairs and saw a demon tear his mothers head off and eat it. The demon stared at him and said "I dont know your reason for being here, but REMEMBER IT AND COME BACK TO ME, damn you!"
Algranon's eyes snapped open and saw Grogbaargh shaking him as the undead shambled toward him backed by a group of fallen and Algranon said
"What the hell are you doing Grog, stop shaking me and fight, I got your back"
And then Algranon motioned for his skeletal minion to join the battle.
Anagra brought his army to his companions. A simple army of 2 skeletons was enough to distract the horde from the doom that was coming upon them. The loyal servants attacked the demonic evil, yet it seemed that it was too much.
Seeing that they were greatly outnumbered, Anagra knew that the only way to defeat this wave was to weaken the monster's defenses, and so he composed of a dark curse to do so.
At once, he unleashed cry of terror that seemed to melt the defensive skin the demons have. The perfect amplifier. The red beasts that are named the Fallen were in awe as their defensive hide no longer protected them from the clubs, swords, and daggers. Even the raven seemed to do damage. Slowly, each one of them started to fall.
"A simple curse..." he said slowly. His skeletons and his companions turned the battle around. The day was starting to start good, after all.
Anagra heard the whispers from the younger necromancer. He seemed to be a new one to the art of darkness. Should he try to communicate with him?
No...., Anagra thought. It was too dangerous
Yet another reminder of his dark past. He knew now not to value friend ship. He knew that he would have to be alone in this group, helping them, but alone. Another venturing soul. Many are here to for bravery, yet Anagra's quest was personal. He was to find this demon that made him kill his wife and make his children flee.
The necromancer seemed to enjoy the darkness; a rather psychopathic view toward necromancy. He seemed to enjoy it. So strange.
I talk with no one, thougt Anagra. I shall go to Tristram and find this elder to figure out how to kill the demon. Once that happens, I shall leave the group. And finally free himself of his terrible deeds.
Thanks to the strength of his newly founded partners, the heroes found themselves turning the tide on this first of many battles. One by one, demons, zombies, and skeletons fell to the might and magic of the heroes. Slowly, the group continued down their path, slaying anyone or anything in their way. Tre sent out his raven to scout out this camp they were looking for. Within a few minutes, the raven had returned. Perching on on his shoulder, Tre began what could only be call conversing, despite no actual words being said.
The raven flew back into the air as Tre and the rest of the group followed. With no other information, the group had to blindly follow Tre to find this camp. They continued walking through the dark night, the fog still filling the air. In the distance, Tre saw a dim light illuminating the fog around it. They made it to the source of the light to find a fire that had recently been put out. Only the embers continued to glow. There appeared to be no other signs of anyone.
Tre stood there speechless, unsure of what to do. He soon began questioning the source of this information. That perhaps that greedy gambler was just after some gold and his information was false. Tre, and the rest of the group stood in the small clearing from the forest, unsure what to do.
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"We can see you and have you heavily surrounded. As I speak, thirteen archers have their bows pointed at your heads ready to strike at the first sign of trouble! I want each of you to step into the light of the dying fire. Whoever your leader is, tell us your purpose here. If it is not a foul one, perhaps we will not need to kill you.
Tre heard the voice and stepped closer to the dying fire. It's embers lit up his face trough the dark night. "My name is Tre. We are on a quest to cleanse the Den of Evil. Akara, the priestess of a nearby rogue encampment has sent us this quest. We mean you no harm. I have gathered information that a rogue out in these woods could help us find this Den. Do you, or anyone else here know where we can find this den?"
Tre stood there, blinded to who exactly it was he was talking to. However, Tre stood there confident, knowing that their just cause would protect from the harm of others also feeling the pain of this corruption.
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There was a pause, and a rustling in the trees. Out of nowhere, a single rogue woman dropped from the branches above into the circle of light and looked around at the group. Her eyes were intense, but the rest of her face showed concern.
"Don't worry, I won't do you any harm. The rogue you're looking for... is me."
She stepped closer to the dying fire. It was clear from her worn appearance that she had not seen much sleep or hospitality of late. She appeared somewhat dazed and jittery, her eyes darting back and forth between the members of the party and the dark woods beyond.
"The Den is a dangerous place full of terrible horrors. I've seen many potential heroes lose their lives to the evil that resides within in a vain effort for glory and swag. My name is Celia. I have made it my sworn duty to protect the sisterhood as best I can but, on my own, there's only so much I can do. Your party may be the first that has any hope of cleansing the den, and if Akara has sent you, then I will show you the way to the Den of Evil."
Relieved that the information proved to be correct and that the rogue was indeed friendly, Tilika still felt a tension in the air.
"Your party may be the first that has any hope of cleansing the den, and if Akara has sent you, then I will show you the way to the Den of Evil." The rogue said, followed by some crackling noises deep inside the creeping fog.
"They're here. To arms!" Tilika yelled and drew his axe from his side. They all heard moans surrounding their position. Something with quick footsteps started to near where Tilika was standing.
Tilika fastpaced turn around and with a beastlike roar threw down his axe from above his head down into what he thought to be one of the demons. "BEGONE!" He yelled, his axe plunging down into the ground, with a defeaning sound from the impact, he had actually hit plain ground.
"Fast on your feet, they're coming in greater numbers!" Raising his axe once again above his head, listening to what could be distinguished as some sort of conversation between the demons at hand, Tilika threw his axe forward into the fog, followed by a horrid, fearsome scream of death. As soon as the screaming stopped, what sounded like 20 feet started rushing at them from afront, yet no one in the group was not aware of what was happening behind them. "I will not wash the blood from my axe with only one dead demon!" Tilika stated loudly and started pacing in the direction where he had thrown his axe.
The skeleton stood fast fighting what came at it, as Tilika reached his bloodstained axe, which had forced open a gruesome wound in the now literally fallen demon. The distant moans had been closing in far quicker than he had assumed, and swift footsteps could be heard coming from every direction. "We have not even come close to this Den we so carefully must purge, yet we are overrun each turn we take in these woods. Whatever awaits us in the depths of that forsaken cave, we cannot allow it to birth these hellish creatures no more."Tilika thought as he pulled his axe out from the dead body beneath his foot.
Sudden guttural chants broke the hideous creatures' obsessive snarling. As Tilika turned to head back to the others he felt something grab hold of his tunic from behind. Startled, he quickly turned his head to the left to see what had caught onto him. Soon before he realized a walking dead had grabbed him, another one came from the other side and grabbed hold of his right arm. Still able to move, Tilika flinged his right arm, and the reanimated corpse, down on the ground. With a thud the zombie landed on it's back on the bloodsoaked ground, and with his arm now free, Tilika put it around the other walking dead's neck, grabbing hold with his hand over it's face, and pulling with such brute force it's neck snapped and he could easily remove what was supposed to be a severly rotted head. The other zombie, still lying on the ground, trying get to a standing position, without the slighest sensation of fear or anger saw a gigantic foot coming down towards it's head, stomping it wide open with a gory splash.
The others could be heard swinging their weapons, cursing at the oncoming demons, fighting for their lives. Now soaked in blood, reeking of decay and death, Tilika clutched his axe hard and unlocked the small, round metal shield from his back. "I'm coming back in, be sure to watch your backs!" Tilika shouted, fearing this attack would last them all weary. "Magician of the dark arts, prepare what spell you cast on the demons before or this battle won't soon be over!" He added as he went back through the fog to the band of brave travelers.
As they were fighting, Anagra noticed how his army of skeletons were decent, but were for improvement. Deep in his years of sorcery, the elders would teach how using your entire body to envelop the energy would be your success for power, which will lead to the conquering of an element.
Yet Anagra was here, watching his demonic skeletons fight, get obliterated with one hit, and would force Anagra to be constantly looking for fallen foes to summon their bones as a warrior. They were good, and his curse of destroying the enemy's coat of armor only helped mildly.
He would need to summon than just the skeleton. He would have to perfect the revival of creation. More damage. More defense. Perfection.
Energy was in the air, and Anagra, with all his mind, concentrated it to a corpse, and with one almighty thrust in the air, he pulled out the most he could. A new skeleton rose from the carcass, however it was no mere skeleton anymore. From the hardness of the bones, a line of muscles could be seen at the arms, giving it more strength. Along the skeleton's leg, the muscles gave it the ability to dodge, run faster, and kick back. The bones grew stronger, giving the new mastered skeleton the ability to to defend blows much better than its weaker predecessor.
As Tilika came back into sight, he noticed the others fending off fallen and rotting, walking dead coming from every direction. He heard a thud and a crackling noise. Turning his head, from seeing one of the friendly, reanimated skeletons drop to the ground in a hundred or so pieces, he saw Algranon had hit the ground and coughed up blood. "Where are you wounded?" Tilika yelled at the necromancer who was pressing his hands against his head in agony.
Not getting an answer, he plunged forward to where the necromancer had dropped. The barbarian crouched down and grabbed hold of Algranon by his robe and searched for where he had been hit. He could see no trace of a wound or even a scratch on the necromancer's body. The barbarian realized Algranon was not hurt physically and instead focused closely on his face. "Is this the corruption's doing, or is the darkness merely tearing you to shreds, dark sorcerer?" He asked in a calm voice.
Completely lost in figuring out what was going on with Algranon, Tilika did not hear what was coming from behind him.
Before the band's leader could respond, the unsuspecting group found themselves plunged into the heat of battle. Celia raised her bow again, this time aimed into the dark woods beyond. She could hear the others entering the fight and concentrated, staring into the darkness in search of the familiar shapes of the Blood Moor. The walking dead, the fallen demons and their shamans, the dreaded wendigos and, worst of all, her corrupted sisters. She had fought them all on occasion and each battle had left their scars - mental and physical - but every time she had learned. Learned to be faster, stronger, more cunning.
Her trained ears picked up the sound of a snapping twig and before she could think about it, her aim adjusted and the arrow fired. The familiar yelp of a dying fallen, it's throat freshly skewered, rang out.
The battle was going smoothly for Anagra, mostly just obliterating the small army of mindless monsters. His newly improved army of skeletons was going well, and his new curse of amplifying damage was perfect. The bodies of weak demons were flying, and the stench of blood was in the air. Anagra, who was moving more swiftly, was now moving forward toward the leader of the red demons, a priest that practiced the art of perfect revival. It seemed natural that the real leader would get special attention. A mere death from a skeleton would not be enough.
As he approached the leader, a group of red demons noticed their leader in trouble, and reacted upon it. In an instant, he found the mindless fallen to be running toward him, eager to destroy the potential killer of their priest. In the blink of an eye, they were on Anagra, their teeth spewing blood, and their long knives ready to dig in his neck.
A skeleton minion ran to aid Anagra, quickly getting in the way of the fallen. Soon, the minions protected him, fighting off the Fallen. Anagra himself helped fight them off, using his dagger to slit their throat and use their bones to form new minions.
In an instant, a fallen jumped on him, but perhaps of the red demon's success of actually reaching the demon may have prevented the instant of death of Anagra, but his skeletons army was distracted, and without their master, they were quickly losing their battle. Anagra grabbed the fallen off his back, and then fell down to the ground. With one swift motion, he dug his dagger in the fallen's neck, killing it.
The shaman, however, in the midst of the chaos, finally had a clear look at the master of the skeleton minions, and then, with a demonic smile, summoned a ball of fire, and aimed on right at Anagra's back.
Anagra, seeing the fireball moving toward him, was defenseless. On the ground, he swung around, instinctively covered his face, and braced for impact. Yet the act of waving the dagger, he unintentionally summoned a skeleton, a weaker one, yet one that faced the fireball. The fireball collided with the skeleton, and it got obliterated.
Stunned at his luck, Anagra had a clear look at the Shaman. He ran to it, and the shaman, who no longer had anymore fallen to protect, tried to cast another fireball. Yet Anagra caught up to him, and quickly dug his dagger into the monster's stomache. Tha shaman coughed blood for a moment, then fell forward, dead.
The chaos of fighting around him, Anagra now knew that his cloak and minions would not offer him enough protection. Seeing the obliterated bones of the skeleton he summoned gave him an idea. The bones of a skeleton can handle physical blows and resist elemental damage. They were ideal protection, and they were a satisfying answer to his problem.
With a wave, the bones flew up in the air, and surrounded him at the waste, waiting, like a minion, to protect its master.