2013.10.28 - Born of the Cauldron

Malice, Pennsylvania. A quiet town. A peaceful community. And, according, to a severed head in a crystal ball, the place where the end of all life must begin -- at least for this year. Halloween is being geared up for, and while Malice isn't necessarily a 'big Halloween town', it's big enough and the neighborhoods trusting enough that they feel no qualms about putting up all kinds of decorations. Theft is not even a concern for most, nor is vandalism -- viewed as one of those 'big city problems'. There are foam jack-o-lanterns in abundance around stores, there are big orange-and-black bows on lamp posts, Halloween stickers adorn windows, and even though Halloween isn't here quite yet some people (and some unfortunate pets) have already taken up wearing costumes.
It's a happy, friendly, peaceful town.
That was yesterday.
The town is currently utterly silent. Seemingly abandoned. Though travellers aren't common, enough people have stumbled upon Malice to find out something is wrong -- though only a couple have made it back out to spread the word. It's evening, dark and getting darker, and while the police are not exactly equipped for this sort of job, the BSAA may have contacted heroes to investigate these claims of an entire town murdered -- rendered into a ghost town -- over-night, and shambling dead things walking the streets.
Further, there's a source of great magic emanating from the center of town square, atop a platform that once held a huge jack-o-lantern filled with candles and now supports the smashed remains of said pumpkin and a certain Cauldron...
Representing the Titans... Mend might be accused of being out of her depth - but when you aren't sure who to send, she or Heather tend to end up top of the list for some weird reason...which probably has something to do with her reputation as the girl who can't die. Her transportation dropped her off at the edge of the town and she makes her way into it cautiously...and armed, as best as she can, for bear.
It was lucky, perhaps, that Teth-Adam had been visiting the states, today, for his sense for matters arcane only extended so far. It was during yet another tedious visit to the UN, that he picked up on the dark mystical energies pouring forth from this small town in Pennsylvania, causing a slight uproar as the Kahndaqian king strode from the UN building and took flight, heading out of New York and straight to the source of the energy. Just as Mend arrives, he touches down just beside her, arms crossed over his chest, eyes on the Titan for a moment before he asks in his most imperious voice, "What has happened here? There is clearly a great amount of evil in the air."
The streets are empty. Cars are still parked. In the residential areas, trash cans are still out on the curb on some streets as though the expectation exists that the garbage truck will be along the next morning to pick them up. Only the occasional signs of struggle as a light fog spreads through the streets indicate this is not just a quiet evening, and that something is wrong. Some cars crashed into each other, or into street lights, trees, or similar and simply left where they are. Some trash cans toppled and spilling their contents all over the sidewalk and street. Some doors hanging open, some windows broken. It's not as though every house is like this. It's not as though every house has a long rust-colored streak of not-entirely-dried blood trailing from the door, to the front walk, and then out onto the street to join other such trails of bloody things being dragged.
It's occasional. Enough to show things are not okay. The damage, the signs of violence, is all recent. Here, on the outskirts of the residential neighborhoods, things are quiet. Except for Black Adam descending through layers of fog to land on the street and start talking into the near-silence. From the sky, he would have probably also noticed the fog engulfs the town like a dome of mist, spilling out tendrils of vapor in places, but mostly confined to Malice itself... Swirling around...
Down here on the ground, the fog doesn't seem as thick, but it's still a visual obstruction. And somewhere semi-distant, the clanking sound of a can getting kicked and rolling for a short ways before coming to a stop accentuates the fact the two probably aren't alone.
Mend takes a deep breath. "That's what I'm trying to work out. Evil...definitely. Rumor has it that everyone in the town is dead. And still wandering around." Joy. Zombies. She doesn't need to be dealing with zombies. "But I don't judge by rumors." She narrows her eyes. "Need to do something about the visibility around here, but I don't think a flare's going to help."
"That is ill news, indeed." Teth remarks, his voice carrying easily in the silence. "Necromancy is an art that draws only the darkest of conjurers. Whatever has occured it here, those responsible will meet their doom at my hands." Clearly the Immortal King is not a fan of zombies either. Though it'll take sometime to find out who exactly is responsible for the state of Malice, there may be something Teth can do right now... At least when it concerns the fog and visibility. "Cover your ears," he instructs Mend, before bring his hands up to either side of him and crashing them together with a thunderous report. His intention? To use the shockwaves caused by his powerful thunderclap to drive the fog away.
Windows and other glass nearby shatters from both the sound and the air pressure of the clapping maneuver. Small loose objects are cast through the air or along the ground. The sound echoes and echoes like real thunder across the entire town. The mist recoils as though struck, exposing for a moment a dozen human figures silently walking down the street towards Mend and Teth. Calmly, placidly staring ahead with glassy eyes as they advance, with various improvised weapons in-hand. Knives, pipes, a machette, etc. They could be mistaken for sleep walkers.
They don't even look much like movie zombies or similar. Their clothes are intact, visible injuries are few, and they aren't moaning or holding out their arms in front of them or anything. They move with the coordination of the living, if not a slightly sedate gait. The mist, after being repelled enough to expose them, starts flowing back into position. The mist is... Not normal mist obviously. It's nearly alive unto itself with the way it crawls and grasps with hands of vapor to reclaim the terrain it was so violently expelled from. Oh, it's not some kind of magical poison fog, is it? That would be most unfortunate given both Mend and Black Adam have inhaled it.
But no, it seems that it is not turning them into undead or anything. It's just instinctively, or perhaps consciously, trying to obscure the landscape. The sound of foot steps padding quickly, at a light run; the visuals of the dead civilians jogging towards the intruders with their weapons ready before the fog starts to obscure them again; the sound of more things being kicked or knocked over or bumped into all around as the sound alerts the dead to the presence of the living -- all of these indicate that they are aware of the two trespassers and they intend to close with them.
Mend covers her ears immediately, without any hesitation. She's not stupid - she knows what he's trying to do. And that does at least give them warning. "My turn!" she calls, cheerfully, tossing a flashbang into the midst of the zombies once she's sure she's given Adam enough warning. It might do nothing. Or it might disrupt them a little.
Adam shields his eyes from the flashbang, waiting for it to go off before he wades into the sea of fog, calling over his shoulder, "Stay close to me, or turn back. I will not slow down, and you will be overrun without my aid, of that I'm sure." He doesn't necessarily seek out a fight with any of the 'zombies,' but if any reach him or attack him, he is brutal in his reprisal, not holding back even an ounce. "There is something near the middle of town. I can feel the arcane energy flowing from it. We must reach it."
The flashbang does precisely nothing to the zombies, confirming they actually are undead. There's no reaction, not even of avoiding the thrown object before it goes off. As Black Adam leads the way, the undead do indeed attack, and they exhibit no small degree of skill -- even with improvised weapons. Salarymen, stay-at-home-moms, sanitation workers, even an old man in his night clothes, all relatively normal-looking people with whatever they happen to have in their hands, all fighting with the proficiency of warriors with life-long training and experience. Of course, Black Adam's strength when he chooses to use it, matched with his speed and durability, and his own fighting skill, allows him to likely counter the attacks and hurl his attackers aside or otherwise do to them what would be devastating to most living or dead beings.
And they don't even flinch. They don't cry out. They don't moan about brains. The crunch of flesh and bone may be heard, but they simply get back up a few moments later, their injuries either repaired or as though they were never inflicted to begin with. These are not normal necromantic zombies. They may not have intelligence per se, but they have the physical abilities of ancient soldiers and don't seem to stay dead when 'killed'.
Still, despite this, Black Adam and Mend may be able to make their way through the streets even under constant assault. But as more of the town's population slips out of the spaces between houses, leaps down from rooftops with cat-like grace, or comes from behind and other directions, it should become obvious that fighting them hand-to-hand is a losing proposition.
"How about..." Mend's doing her best to help, but this is clearly NOT going to work this way...and while she's fairly sure she can't be turned into a zombie, she's only fairly sure. "...going *above* them." Sure, the visibility sucks, but flying over their heads strikes her as the smart way to get past them and to the center of this. Which is clearly what they need to investigate.
As he drives his fist into the chest of yet another zombie, sending it hurtling backwards several yards before it pulls itself back to its feet and resumes the assault, Teth scowls. "This is a particularly foul magic," he informs Mend, "It would take weeks, if not months of continued fighting to tire me, but I fear they would be able to accomplish such an improbable feat." When she suggests going above them, he glances around, shakes his head wearily and holds an arm out to his impromptu battle partner. "Very well, hold on to me. I'll take us there immediately." If she grabs his arm, he'll take to the air, effortlessly carrying her weight as he gains altitude and begins to move through the air towards the center of town and the source of the magic.
Thankfully, the undead seem to be without the capacity for ranged combat. No guns, nor even bow and arrows. Thus, once flight is taken up, the pair are safely out of reach. The fog becomes very dense once more upon getting more than a little bit above rooftop level, but it's not so dense that -- mystical though it is -- it can not be navigated through by Teth and Mend by magical or mundane senses. Town square seems just as abandoned at first glance at the streets were before the fog was momentarily lifted. But the movement of dark shapes and blurry silhouettes makes it clear this is not the case. The town may be small, but the greatest concentration is here -- even if a number of them are currently heading away from where Teth and Mend are floating, and back in the direction they just came from. Perhaps still moving towards the source of the sound they heard?
On the raised platform, sat atop the remains of a large pumpkin, is a Cauldron. It is a large black iron pot with two rings and a mouth large enough to fit a man. It has what appears to be dried blood flecked on the rim. A chill wind passes across the cauldron's mouth, producing a sound like the moans of thousands of people. A tall figure in black armor stands near the Cauldron with a huge sword, scabbard down, in his grasp. He appears to be overseeing things as some of the undead carry recently dead bodies to the Cauldron, and one by one, throw them in. It takes only moments for the change to occur.
A body is thrown in, the pulse of twisted magic echoes outwards, and another voice is added to the chorus of moans as the corpse gets back up and climbs out of the pot. The next body is thrown in. The process repeats. An army could easily be raised in this manner. No spells, no rituals, no resources needed other than sufficient bodies. If this spreads beyond the town, and these... Cauldron-Born start claiming victims from neighboring towns, they could amass quite a fighting force is short order.
Soldiers that never die, never fear, never eat, never breathe, never sleep, never disobey orders. Silent, deathless warriors, marching implacably against everywhere and everyone. For the moment, at least, Black Adam and Mend seem to have gone unnoticed.
Mend doesn't weigh that much...and takes Adam's arm quickly. "Okay. This isn't good. Do you know any way to turn that thing off or should we come back with reinforcements?" And get the town quarantined, of course, to keep them from amassing that army...well, that larger army. They already have one, after all.
Adam stares at the cauldron for a few moments as if in silent deliberation with himself, before his expression changes to one of disgust. "Bah. This is a most foul weapon indeed. It goes by many names and has been destroyed at least once already, but it can not hide its true nature from the gods. You may or may not know it as the Black Cauldron, and there is but one way to end its power. Someone must sacrifice themselves to its power, knowing full well what they do. The corpses that have already been brought back from the dead by its foul magics will return to the grave, and the one who entered the cauldron willingly will be killed." Teth glances around the area briefly, before re-focusing on the black clad warrior near the cauldron. "There is another way, however... If we can get the foul thing away from its unholy army, they will weaken and die once again."
The sound of their voices carries readily in the chill air unless they are whispering, but the fog seems to muffle it to a degree as well. Perhaps that is why the entire town's population hasn't mobilized yet, or the one in the armor has not yet begun looking for the intruders? Perhaps that is also why the Cauldron-Born themselves were so quiet on their approach? That would be unfortunate indeed. Perhaps it helps remain hidden for now, but it also implies there is some secondary magic at work. Perhaps the man in armor is also a wizard and is using his own magic to make the already serious threat of the Cauldron into a much more significant one by covering for the weaknesses of the undead and giving them even more of an advantage.
This is not a random thing here. There was clearly planning put into this operation. A remote town, with few visitors, and no immediate help available or people who would notice right away if Malice went silent and empty. Out of range of the national guard's immediate response area, no emergency responders to be seen, and someone organizing the collection of dead bodies and the creation of new ones. Even the fog seems to be designed to keep spy sattelites and aerial surveillance out of the loop.
The armored figure remains still as a statue.
"I'm assuming that having an immortal do it would be cheating," Mend comments, casually, rather as if she's seriously considering that proposition. "Or might actually kill them." Hrm. "Let's not risk it. So...moving the cauldron. I assume that isn't as easy as you just flying in and picking it up."
"There are no enchantments as far as I know that would prevent such a thing," Teth replies, more concerned now with the armored figure. "However, there's no telling what that necromancer has done to protect it." He continues to eye the cauldron and its current owner for a few moments, before he states, quite simply, "Very well. You will distract the necromancer, and I shall dispose of the cauldron. If it has any enchantments on it, the power of Aton should be able to defeat them. I may need time, however." He hurtles towards the threat, not even waiting for an answer. Waiting until he's only a few feet above the platform, he releases Mend towards the black clad figure and dives towards the cauldron, preparing to grasp it by both handles.
Black Adam dives, throws Mend at the 8 foot tall figure in armor, and grabs the Cauldron by the ring-shaped handles! In order, the warrior grunts at Mend's sudden appearance and does not budge an inch except to raise his blade tip from the ground with an ease that implies supernatural strength; blood-red sparks fly from the metal where Teth touches it, painful and yet non-damaging -- and just past the threshhold of what Teth could outright ignore or resist, yet still resisted enough to not be crippling or intolerable; and words -- symbols -- in some unknown magical language blaze into existence on the side of the Cauldron in ghostly cyan flames.
Given that Black Adam can read any language, even magical ones created by a single individual for the purpose of communication with her undead minions and personalized sorcery, he would likely be able to understand what is said by the somehow-disturbing glyphs and letters that seem to relate to death by the edges and curves they employ. It's a word-based spell.
'Inflict Agony'.
A second set of words start to burn into existence on the side of the Black Cauldron if Teth holds on for too long. They begin, 'Slay Livi--'
Mend is...thrown, but she was sort of expecting that. She rolls with it, coming to her feet and throwing a knife at the necromancer. Distract him, Teth says, and she's not afraid for herself. Well, maybe a little. She doesn't know *what* would happen if her unconscious form was tossed into the cauldron while still in healing trance. But she's not prone to worrying.
Black Adam bellows his displeasure in the pain that arcs through his hands from the spell woven into the cauldron, and as he reads its intention, and concludes what the next incantation will be, he shouts at the armor-clad figure, "You dare attempt to slay the might of Black Adam, the Wizard's first chosen champion and all-powerful ruler of Kahndaq!?" He releases the cauldon and hovers above it, scowling towards the necromancer, "We shall see how your worthless spells hold up to the power of Aton... SHAZAM!" As he calls out the word of power, he lurches sideways, quickly moving out of the way of the fast moving bolt of mystical lightning and opening up a path -- straight into the bowels of the cauldron itself. He doesn't know what'll happen, but damnit... It should be interesting.
The knife hits the armored figure and 'ding's off, though leaving an indentation where it struck that reveals the armor is not impervious to harm. The man lifts his huge sword, almost as tall as the towering 8 foot figure himself, his skull-like helmet concealing his features, and he starts to advance on Mend... Only to stop when he notices the sparking Cauldron and hears the yelling of Black Adam. He turns his head enough to look in the direction of the yelling man. The spell completed while Teth was yelling, a surge of black necromantic energy washing over him and attempting to tear the life right out of him. Given his resistance, it should at least be disconcerting and harmful, though not lethal. However, getting hit by more of those would probably be something to avoid. Maybe the Cauldron expended its spells though? The ghostly flames are even disippating and the words fading from where they were well-hidden against the black of the Cauldron itself.
The armored figure is calling out in a Russian accent, "I am not--" as the lightning crashes down into the Cauldron and sends up a huge pillar of crackling magic that overflows its container and lashes out randomly in every direction, forcing the warrior to raise an arm to shield himself. While he is distracted, Mend has an opportunity to strike! ...And two or three Cauldron-Born coming at her from behind with blades ready.
Mend is reading her second knife, but then she's got the zombies behind her. She ducks, rolling below the blades...almost. One catches her a glancing blow and she hisses, but it doesn't seem to really slow her down. Or distract her much from the necromancer, the second blade flying as she rolls back to her feet. She's...not bad.
Adam bellows again, the force of his voice enough to cause vibrations in the air as necromantic energy surges over his form, forcing him to endure pain unlike anything he's felt for thousands of years. When the effects finally end, Teth is on one knee, fist pressing with the force of several hundred tons into the platform. He shakes his head, clearing his mind of the fog cast over it by the magic and rises to his feet, anger in his eyes. Whatever the magic of Shazam had done -- it clearly wasn't enough. Not immediately, anyway, because the Cauldron-Born were still on their feet. Though he's not necessarily one to come to the aid of his allies at the expense of his own mission, he may need Mend. While she dodges the attacks of the mystical zombies and continues to attack the massive and apparently Russian figure, he lurches forward through the air to shoulder check the nearest Cauldron-Born, followed by two quick strikes to the remaining foes. "The enchantments may be destroyed, but I can not reach the Cauldron again until whatever the lightning did to it wares off... If it wares off. I doubt even I could stand up to the magic boiling out of it at the moment. -- So for now... I will take the large one, and you can deal with the undead beasts." With that, he leaps into the air, rising twenty some feet in an instant, before he angles back towards the eight foot tall soldier and barrels forwards, looking to drive his knee into the man's chest.
The thrown knife heads right for one of the 'eye sockets' of the skull-face-plate of the helmet. The huge sword twitches to the side just barely and deflects the knife, magic energy sparking from its surface. It was a good throw. It might have done lethal damage if not for freaking magic swords. But as Black Adam hurls the Cauldron-Born through the air, seemingly broken, with his shoulder-check, and the other two likewise silently accept the blows without moving to defend themselves, and get sent tumbling, the warrior advances again.
The unstoppable force of the wizard Shazam's magic meets the immovable object of an invulnerable artifact that creates false life within its confines. Eventually, the lightning will probably stop simply because it's not supposed to be a sustained blast in most cases, even if it never reached its target. Several more spells enchanted onto the Cauldron's surface appear and disappear as they are expended uselessly upon raw magical might during all this. It seems the rest of the defenses and countermeasures have been swept away, so it's not as though no good came of it... Even if the Cauldron is still intact.
"I am NOT a necromancer!" the warrior calls out as Black Adam lunges at him, swinging his magic sword at the same time the knee slams into his chest and topples him to the ground, caving in the armor and cratering the ground beneath him. Any normal living human being would have died under such strength and power.
One of the Warlord's gauntleted hands reaches up to try to grab Teth Adam by the throat even as he lies in the crater that was once cobblestones and concrete. There's a definite hole in the armor, and a caved in rib-cage, but the glowing red eyes that shine from within the helmet show this man is all-too-functional still. He is not as strong as Black Adam, but he still exerts his own strength if he can get that grab. "I am the WARLORD," his inhumanly deep voice retorts to match the echoes that continue to reverberate from both Shazam's now-gone lightning and the crack of stone.
The Cauldron-Born start to rise to their feet as more arrive out of the fog. The fog also seems to be fading more and more. Perhaps whatever enchantment was producing it was also tied to the Cauldron.
"Okay...maybe we should think about...getting out of here?" Or calling for backup...Teth's clearly powerful, but the two of them are vastly outnumbered, and she has her hands full. "I don't want to end up in that thing!" Mend's no *coward,* but she can sense when a situation calls for a tactical retreat.
"Black Adam never retreats!" Adam roars out in response, just as he's gripped by the inhuman strength of the necr- Warlord, distracted long enough by Mend's absurd, and probably perfectly reasonable, idea to get help. As the Warlord begins to tighten his grip on Adam's throat, he laughs defiantly at the man, though is still struggling to free himself. "I have no need of air like a mere mortal, creature." Adam finally decides the best way to break free, is to fly upwards with as much strength as he can, attempting to lift the eight full tall man straight into the air so he can, hopefully, drop him back to earth with incredible force.
Black Adam may laugh at the idea of retreat, but it is becoming more and more clear -- at least to Mend -- that this method is not working out. As the Cauldron-Born close in, encircling town square in a tight ring, the fog lifting to reveal hundreds of undead tightening the wall of well-armed walking corpses, seemingly not advancing all at once as they easily could, as though by some silent command, Warlord Grigori is lifted into the air. He doesn't wait to be dumped to the ground. Even at high enough up that the fall should inflict considerable harm, he simply lets go and puts the roll of his body into a swing of his huge magic sword at the empowered warrior's face, and lets himself fall through the much-thinner, almost completely absent fog. He hits the ground with a crunch, landing on one knee and the other twisted at an unnatural angle underneath his considerable weight.
Then, directly above Black Adam as he flies in the air, a delicate, feminine, skeletal hand attempts to place itself on his shoulder silently and unleashh another 'Slay Living' spell directly into him, as the hand's owner, in a chill, echoing, female voice intones, "Fall back to Earth, Icarus." Not relying on that one spell, whether it lands or not, a beam of ephemereal green light blasts from the boney palm of some sort of animated skeleton in regal garb, with cyan flames streaming from her fleshless skull, attempting to slam Black Adam back into the ground.
"You dare the black sun, and now your wings shall be burnt away," Empress Necro continues dramatically, before pointing an index finger. Black flames start to gather on its tip. Black Adam is strong, fast, tough, knowledgeable, skilled, and here is something new and terrible and with a power that he does not wield or know the exact extent of. Perhaps he could defeat her. But she is probably the one behind all this. And she is clearly unhappy about the interference in her plan.
Somewhere in the rapidly-clearing distance, what appears to be the outline of an enormous black centipede with a human head on the tip starts crawling its way quickly across the roof-tops, closing in.
It seems she also brought more allies.
It will take time to reorganize and restore this plan. Black Adam and Mend both have time to depart right now, to come at this from a different angle, to get allies even if Teth finds the idea laughable (or did. Who knows if he does now?), to evaluate what he is up against. A warrior is one thing, even a very tough one.
But a sorcerous undead on this level is quite another.
The Cauldron-Born raise their weapons, cold, dead faces staring blankly, uncaringly at the immortal woman. No hate, no fear, no aggression, no will, but proven able and prepared to attempt to kill her -- even if it wouldn't necessarily stick. And then there's that CAULDRON...
"Who dares tou-" It's quite a thing, even for someone of Black Adam's strength and toughness, to be hit full force with two necromantic spells at a time, especially coming on the heels of another one that had previously caused so much pain. As the avatar of the gods is slammed back into the ground, he roars in mingled fury and agony, Necro's magic doing what nearly every physical force had failed to -- actually harming him. He can feel it in his bones. Death. Creeping in. The gods are shouting in his ear that he must leave. His own intelligence tells him that much, but his pride... It is a hard thing to overcome.
But not impossible.
"He does, however, protect his allies." Which of course, is the only reason he shatters the sound barrier into several ear-wrenching pieces as he blasts out of his newly formed crater, snatches Mend up, and rockets away from the hell hole formerly known as Malice, Pennsylvania.
The black flames erupt where Necro is pointing, even trailing the path that Black Adam took to depart, but his speed is so enormous that he avoids them completely. The flames whisper and sob quietly and moan softly and calmly beg for death as they waver and burn slowly on the ground. Necro is looking off in the direction that the avatar went with her eyeless sockets, silent, expressionless aside from the grinning of a faceless skull. The centipede-thing arrives, a human head with a cloak about his shoulders and upper-body, and a body hundreds of feet long at least, all composed of articulated, metal-plated spinal cords and rib bones that give him that insectile appearance. The blonde-haired man looks around calmly, arches an eyebrow and opens his mouth to speak. "My, my, Warlord--" The Warlord interrupts the other man with, "Shut up, Marcus." He rises to his feet, the hole in his torso already half-healed, and the messed up leg snapping and popping as it repairs itself.
An undead that heals. Necro descends, not to converse with her Lieutenants, but to examine the Cauldron. All the enchantments and wards expended? The flames of her skull flicker a bit more quickly. She waves a hand in the air and the sobbing black flames that cry out for a soul of their own to have and to hold and to burn and consume forever and ever die out with a pitiful whimper that cuts out half-way through.
"More precautions will have to be taken," the Lich announces mostly to herself. "I do not have time to install all the defenses I would like to in this town. Marcus, you will handle them." The necromancer smirks and bows theatrically, pleased that he has been entrusted with this as opposed to the Warlord who has obviously failed. "Alexandrovich," Necro then continues as she starts moving her hands as though molding something invisible, and then slapping her bony digits onto the Cauldron. A green glow encases it, cutting it off from conventional space-time. This will slow down the army-creation but prevent further sabotage attempts until the town is better defended. "I will erect a spire. Direct the troops from there and prepare for THAT one's return."
Marcus's smile sours a bit as he realizes authority has not been given to him after all, but the armored man gives no indication of anything within his armor and helmet. He only bows at the waist and says, "Yes, my Empress."
The lich has the feeling that that man is not the kind who will give up so easily. He'll be back to try again. He may even bring allies.
Necro has waited almost 600 years for this.
She has expended enormous wealth and immeasurable magical resources to make it real.
And now some agent of the gods and his mortal allies attempt to interfere?
....
They are NOT prepared.
Category:Log