Norman the Necromancer

When Eugene set off from Ashvale, he took forty of the death knights with him, although, he didn’t take them all with him into the wasteland to attack the Brotherhood.

He decided to assign half of them to guard the border. With Ashvale being so vulnerable he didn’t want to risk a patrol of Brotherhood forces possibly slipping through.

Having the extra guards also allowed Eugene to send the three guards – that had been down here for nearly a month – home for a bit of rest. They had certainly earned it.

This entire time they had defended the border with nothing but loincloths and crude wooden spears. If an actual fight had ensued, they would have all died and they knew that going in. Yet that didn’t stop them from volunteering all the same. Eugene was proud of them for that and would ensure they earned a commendation, whenever Norman got around to creating them.

The three guards were ecstatic to see their commander and the additional guards he brought with him.

Eugene approached the guards, who saluted him with grins on their faces.

“Commander,” the one in charge spoke.

Eugene saluted back. “At ease.”

The guards relaxed and Eugene looked them over. They were filthy and looked to be suffering from early stages of body degradation due to being out in the elements for so long. But their eyes were clear and their heads held high.

“Report, Sariah,” Eugene ordered.

Sariah was a dark-skinned woman of Dominican descent. She had found herself on the wrong side of the New York crime family for one reason or another and they dumped her body in Grothlosburg to dispose of it. Which worked out fine for Eugene, the woman was smart but didn’t take shit from anyone. Probably why she wound up pissing off the mob. She reminded him a bit of his mother with her no-nonsense attitude.

“Good to see you alive and well, Sir. It’s been quiet. We did spot one enemy patrol after we arrived, but they never crossed the border. They stopped near the border and used some sort of magical device to scan the area, but whatever information it gave them, it seemed they were happy with the results.”

That was good news, it meant the enemy probably didn’t bother with the deadlands very often. “Excellent. You three are going to earn some much-needed rest and relaxation. I want you to head back to Ashvale as soon as you fill in your replacements.”

“Um, Sir, if I may ask?”

“Spit it out, Sariah, you know I’m not some uptight army puke.”

“Why so many guards? I believe five would be more than sufficient to cover the border, it's quite small.”

That was true. The border from the wasteland to the deadlands was only twenty-five miles long. A few well-placed scouts could watch the entirety of it.

“It's time to give our enemies a taste of their own medicine.”

“We would like to join in on the attack, Sir,” Sariah replied, almost adding the honorific as an afterthought.

Eugene’s reply was swift. “No. You will get your chance to exact some revenge but not right now. As will the rest of you,” Eugene spoke that last bit loud enough for all his men to hear. “Half of you will be staying here under Lohr’s command. You will defend this border but do not engage the enemy unless they cross into the deadlands and you can ensure they will not escape. The people going with me have been hand-picked because they are the best at remaining unseen. For this mission to succeed the enemy cannot know it was us that attacked.”

Eugene had picked Lohr as his second in command because the man had the most experience with fighting out of any of his guards. This was all thanks to his role as a Compliance Officer before his death. The man died trying to save one of the workers trying to break through the fog lands. A dumb way to die in Eugene’s opinion, but it worked out in their favor. The man was nearly equal in strength to Eugene himself and that was just thanks to his physiology. That didn’t even take into account the man’s calling as a water mage.

Although, the man’s magical talents were a bit lackluster thanks to his upbringing and the rigid gron societal structure. Despite those shortcomings, he was still able to wield his water magic to some degree. So he wasn’t hopeless. His magic just tended toward a more utilitarian role rather than an offensive or defensive one. But Lohr was working on improving his magical aptitude since he was revived.

The man hadn’t been a greykin long, being one of the last to be revived before the city fell and he was already making progress with improving and expanding on his magic. It was a testament to the change in outlook that the gron experienced when they got revived and Eugene was optimistic that the man would grow to be a pillar of the guard with time.

The men remaining behind with Lohr as well as Sariah and her group saluted him before heading off to their designated locations.

As for the rest of the men, Eugene split them into two teams of ten. One team was led by him, the other by Parker the human tracker. There were more senior people that Eugene could have assigned as team leaders for this mission, but they were all gron. And while he respected the gron ability to get shit done, they still lacked the cunning and ability to change tactics on the fly that humans possessed. And none of the other non-human, non-gron that had joined the guard had callings.

Parker was still a good choice though. The mission didn’t require too much speed, but it would require someone who knew when to hit and when to run, and how best to avoid getting detected. Parker had already proven he could do that when he shadowed the enemy forces without getting caught back when they tried to track the missing ooraki.

“Parker, I want you to head west of the enemy capital. I will wait a week before I start hitting our targets to the northeast.” Eugene knew that the river in the wasteland ran mostly east to west, with the current flowing west. “That should give you enough time to hit your first village and work your way upriver. Take your time, but I want to meet back here in two months. If some village looks too hard to hit, skip it and move on. We don’t need to get them all, we just need to make them afraid.”

“Yes, Commander.” Parker saluted and led his men across the border, quickly vanishing in the dusty haze of the wasteland.

Eugene was probably going to have to implement a rule not to salute officers while in the field. It would only make them targets. Finally, he turned towards his team. “Let’s get moving, I wanna get to the first village tonight so we can scout it thoroughly before we strike.”

***

Moleena of Amadi enjoyed his position and power. As a priest of the Brotherhood, people respected him and he lived a life of luxury. Ten years ago as a raider, he would have never guessed his life would turn out this way. Usually, Moleena was on the other end, stealing from men like him. Stealing money this way was so much easier and more enjoyable. He also didn’t have to worry about hiding out in some dingy cave from the law.

The chaos had changed everything. It cut off their little slice of land from the Golatian Empire, leaving them to do as they pleased. Seeing an opportunity, their boss cooked up this scheme to become the High Priest of some defunct order of monks. Moleena had been skeptical at first.

Then in a sheer act of fate, they ran into a wandering human, whose name vaguely matched the god that the monks once worshiped. Even better, the man was a healer and a chosen. Using him as a symbol, the High Priest was able to give their group an air of legitimacy that they previously lacked. It didn’t take long for their influence to spread after that. People were hard up for something to believe in after the chaos. From there, they quickly got all of the underworld elements on their side. Who needed to fight over pieces of a pie when they could simply control the whole thing?

Changes had occurred over the years, but the organization grew. He didn’t much care for the priestess but so long as he still got his cut, he didn’t care enough to fight her over these changes. He knew a few others in the Order that weren’t so willing to let things go, but he stayed out of the politics. Moleena was a man of simple taste.

The only thing that annoyed him was where the Brotherhood had placed him. The village he had been assigned to ‘convert’ was not even on the main river. It was located off a small branch that fed into the great river and the city’s small size reflected that. Still, it was better than some of the mud hut villages that dotted the main river. Some of the more contentious priests had been relegated to those locations to keep them out of trouble.

He didn’t envy those poor bastards. At least his city produced a surplus of crops due to its rich farming land. All of the extra crops were shipped directly to Apolonia along the great river. Minus the cut he took for himself of course.

What he earned from running this town afforded him a rather nice villa. One with a wonderful view that overlooked the fertile valley and the river below. He was taking in the view this very minute as he sat on his veranda enjoying a glass of chilled wine. His enjoyment was interrupted when he heard a ruckus coming from the lower floor. It had to be that damn clumsy maid again. He swore she knocked something over once a week.

“Ballia! I swear to Apolon, if you’ve knocked over another one of my vases with your clumsiness I am going to whip you until you beg for mercy!” Moleena set his glass down and stomped towards his sitting room door.

Just as he was nearing it, the door crashed open and a man in dark armor burst into the room. Moleena tried to scream for his guards but his voice was cut short as the man wrapped an armored hand around his throat. Panicking, Moleena tried punching the man, but it was like punching a brick wall. Then he remembered he still had his dagger strapped to his waist. Priests weren’t supposed to need mundane weapons, but Moleena never forgot his roots as a raider and always wore the blade.

As the man glanced away to check the room, Moleena ripped the dagger free from its sheath and drove it into a gap in the man’s armor near his elbow. Moleena smiled as the blade sank in. It was a debilitating strike that would render the man’s arm useless. One that Moleena had used more than once in the past.

The look of triumph on Moleena’s face faded quickly as the man didn’t even react to the strike or release his grip as he should have. Moleena tried to yank the blade back out for another strike but the man wrapped his other gauntleted hand around Moleena’s and squeezed.

A gurgle of pain escaped Moleena’s mouth as he felt the bones of his hand crushed beneath this vulgar behemoth’s grip. Moleena used his free arm to try punching the man but it had no more effect than the first time he tried it. The man didn’t so much as flinch as Moleena kept punching him, hoping he could get the man to release him.

Through his slowly blackening vision, Moleena noticed another man enter the room behind the armored giant. “All clear,” the man spoke, making Moleena’s blood turn to ice. He had spoken similar words to those during his years as a raider.

The man holding Moleena simply nodded, before turning back toward him, then toward the knife still clutched in Moleena’s broken hand. Moleena couldn’t be sure since the man had a full-face helm on, but he would have sworn the man was smiling below the faceplate. Moleena redoubled his efforts to free himself but it was all for naught. With terrifying ease, the man yanked the blade out of his own arm without letting go of Moleena’s hand. Then he turned the wickedly sharp tip toward Moleena.

Moleena struggled in the man’s vice-like grip but it was like trying to prevent the sun from rising or setting each day. Moleena felt the momentary shock of pain as the man drove the blade of his own knife through his eye before everything went black.

***

Eugene dropped the corpse, leaving the knife where he had stuck it. Then he turned towards the death knight who had informed him the house was clear. “Did you destroy the brains?”

“Yes, C-,” the man caught himself before adding Eugene’s title. They didn’t want someone to figure out who they were by overhearing it.”

“Good, store the bodies, and let's move on to our next target.”

As soon as the man left, Eugene took a sip of his healing potion. He couldn’t afford to be slowed down by the arm wound. It was a careless oversight on his part to be wounded during their first attack, one he wouldn’t be making a second time.

Eugene had picked this city as a trial run after scouting it for a few days. It was out of the way and relatively small. It also helped that the priest's house was well away from any other prying eyes or ears. There were a few guards, which he had planned for, but he hadn’t expected the servants. He probably should have, given the size of the house. The servants' corpses were now stored in his spell anchor. Norman could figure out what to do with them later.

Eugene reached down and grabbed the long hair of the priest. He dragged the man down the steps and into the main room where the rest of his men were already busy stripping the guards of weapons, money, or useful clothing. He tossed the priest into the pile of corpses yet to be searched. Other than his minor wound, the attack had gone off without a hitch. The guards had all fallen before they were able to sound an alert, and if it wasn’t for the surprised maid dropping the vase she was cleaning, there would be nothing but a few blood stains to let anyone know what had happened here.

They finished up there and moved to their next target.

The next town Eugene’s team hit was that little town Norman had visited twice. They waited until the dead of night and like wraiths, snuck through the town until they reached the building in question. There were no locks on the crude door and Eugene opened it as quietly as he could. But the thing squeaked anyway.

He heard a snort as someone woke from the noise. “Hello? Who’s there?”

Eugene crossed the small distance from the door to the pile of cushions that acted as a bed and managed to crush the man’s chest cavity before he could scream out. The man’s breath was forced from his lungs but it came as a pained grunt and not a scream. The man started scrabbling at his chest as he tried to suck in air. But Eugene grabbed one of the man’s arms and ripped it off, tossing it across the room in a violent spray of blood. He ignored the priest's terrified expression as his eyes shot wide in pure panic. Eugene grabbed the man’s other arm, lifting him from the cushions and throwing him out the front door.

When Eugene stepped out of the building, two of his men were holding the dying priest. Eugene shut the door behind him and jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

Eugene grabbed some wooden stakes that he had prepared for this as his men held the terrified and dying priest against the door. Before his men could second-guess him, Eugene shoved the stakes through the man’s remaining arm and both of his legs. Only bloody coughs signified the man’s pain.

With the man pinned to the door, Eugene dismissed the other guards, who were more than happy to leave. Eugene didn’t blame them for not wanting to be part of this. It wasn’t that Eugene liked this sort of stuff, but messages like this had to be made sometimes. And this one was a special case.

Eugene pulled his obsidian knife out and sliced open the man’s stomach, letting his entrails fall to the ground. Then he sliced a line up his torso and over the shoulder to the side missing the arm. By this time the man was in shock and had passed out but Eugene continued his grisly work, slicing a second line from the first and over the other shoulder.

He reached into the man’s chest cavity and ripped out his rapidly beating heart, then he wedged the man’s mouth open and shoved the organ inside, smashing the lower jaw closed with his fist. The organ as well as the man’s lower jaw exploded. It was likely that tearing the man’s heart out had killed him instantly, but Eugene wasn’t done. He used his thumbs to pop out the man’s eyeballs, then he shoved one last stake through the man’s ruined eye and through the back of his skull. Then he tore the symbol of the brotherhood in half that the priest wore and tossed it into the dirt. It would be clear to anyone with eyes what this message conveyed.

By this point, he could hear people stirring in the town, He pressed his bloody hand against the door, wiping the blood from his hand. He turned and disappeared into the night to rejoin his men near the river, where they vanished below the calm surface.

***

Yogren was one of the Brotherhood defenders for the small village and had been on patrol when one of the townsfolk came screaming from the town, yelling about an attack. He hurried back with his weapon in one hand and a torch in the other. The fearful citizens vanished into their homes as they saw him approach.

He couldn’t blame them. The first corpse he happened upon was of his fellow defender, Hali. The man’s throat had been slashed open and wooden stakes had driven through his eyes and into his brain. He found the other two defenders dead in their beds, both had suffered similar injuries.

The village wasn’t large enough to be issued one of the brotherhood knights or more defenders, so Yogren knew he was the sole survivor of this attack. Apolon must have smiled on him from above this evening.

Then he recalled the Priest. He held little hope that the priest had survived, but Yogren need to check. As he approached the house, his hopes turned to ash. The man had been staked to his door like some macabre scarecrow. His body showed clear signs of torture and dismemberment. The sight was enough to make Yogren vomit. When Yogren questioned the villagers, some of them swore up and down that it was a river spirit. Others claimed it was a muyen – a large cannibalistic creature of folktales – as if Yogren believed in that superstitious nonsense.

No, the bloody handprint and savage nature of the attack were probably the work of river raiders. Yogren saddled his zitha and rode toward the capital as soon as it got light enough. With the priest dead, there was nothing worth defending in that town, and he needed to get this information to the leadership as soon as possible.

***

Eugene watched the rider tear from the city from his hiding spot. His people hadn’t overlooked the man. They knew he was out scouting, but someone had to bring this news to the capital, and he doubted it would be taken as seriously if it came from a civilian. So they had waited until only a single man was on patrol before they struck the village.

Over the next month, Eugene and his men hit three more random towns along the river. Only this time, all of the bodies up and vanished. Eugene later released all fifty corpses from those four towns upriver at the same time. He was sure people along the river would spot them eventually, and if he got really lucky, some of them would float all the way to the capital but he didn’t hold his breath for that last bit.

With his work done and no casualties on his end, Eugene called an end to the mission and his men headed back toward the deadlands. It was time to prepare for the second phase of the attack.