Champions of Kruna

Normal Stats: 4 4 3 (2 str 2 agi 3 int 1 wis); 60 cards
Hard Stats: 6 6 5 (3 str 3 agi 4 int 2 wis); 90 cards
Nightmare stats: 10 10 9 (5 str 5 agi 6 int 4 wis); 120 cards
Rewards:
Essence, MB points
==Deck List==
The enemy's deck has:
(See Enemy Deck for more information)
===Alphabetical Table===
Card 	Normal	Hard	Nightmare
"Greatest" Transference 	1 	6 	
Burning Banner 	2 	2 	
Commander Fanto 	6 	7 	
Defibrillation Drink 	1 	2 	
Dragon-Slaying 	3 	4 	
Drink of Destruction 	2 	2 	
General Rothbert 	4 	5 	
Holy Medal of Might 	2 	2 	
Infuse 	5 	7 	
Lethal Libation 	1 	2 	
Lord Limye 	5 	8 	
Mark of Marcus (R) 	3 	4 	
Marshal Anya 	3 	5 	
Rall's Zombie-Splitter (55)	5 	7 	
Refraction 	3 	4 	
Risible Regeneration 	2 	3 	
Salve of Shadows (E) 	1 	4 	
Sylvan Salvation 	4 	6 	
The Librarian 	7 	10 	
==Lore==
Parts 1 and 2 at Undead Horde.
--Part 3--
It was a strange place, the keep. As was often the case with such structures, the building’s hallways all looked alike -- presumably to confuse invaders. But almost nothing else about the building was like any castle Morta had helped storm.
It wasn't the arcane diagrams that had been built into (not drawn on top of -- these were inlaid with precious metals) every surface, or the various types of restless dead the group kept on encountering. The strange part was just how... pleasant the place felt.
It was clean. The walls were coated with fresh paint. Several of the undead residents were carrying mops and brooms, they had looked more confused than anything when the War Hounds would burst into a room. One had sulkily asked who was going to clean up his remains when Morta diced him up.
The building was surprisingly well-lit and furnished, too. There were even some comfortable-looking seats and benches, upholstered with oilskin -- presumably to make it easier to clean in case an occupant left some bits behind). This wasn't just an undead fortress, it was a home for those who had entered a new kind of life once they shuffled off the mortal coil.
Aleister clearly didn’t care, as he continued to consult his map and issue directions to the unit, but Morta could tell that his men were starting to feel the same unease he was. It was beginning to feel less and less like they were dealing with monsters and more and more like they were murdering civilians.
The sorcerer was clearly disgusted at this perceived weakness from the sword-arms he’d hired. When one of Morta’s men hesitated in front of a zombie that had once been a frail old woman, Aleister shoved him out of the way and let loose with a gout of flame he summoned from the air. The walking corpse gave a wheezing scream before it burned away to ash.
Aleister halted before a trio of hallways, opening his book to study the pages before pointing down off to the right. "This way," he declared, before stomping down the corridor and then around a corner.
The War Hounds looked at each other for a second; the distaste they held for Aleister and the work he’d hired them for was all over their faces. Morta met their gazes and nodded, a silent acknowledgment that it was a bad situation and one he would lead them out of. Motioning for them to stay close, Morta led his team down the same path as Aleister and nearly bumped into him once they rounded the corner.
Aleister was standing, notebook open, flipping through its pages and looking irritated. At the end of the hallway were a massive set of double doors, but the area of ground between the men and the portal crossed in front of ten large mirrors. The mirrors looked to be made from obsidian, jet black and highly polished. Beneath the glass, vague shapes seemed to move and swirl, like figures in a heavy fog.
Aleister was muttering under his breath, words Morta couldn’t hear even when he cautiously came close.
"What does your book say about these?" Morta kept an eye on the mirrors, there was something unsettling about them.
"Nothing!" Aleister snarled, flinging the journal to the ground. "Blasted useless piece of garbage! I traded an Eye of the Veil for an old book that seemed to take everything into account except for the traps at the final stretch."
Morta pointedly avoided saying anything. Aleister, however, made up for the silence, swearing like a sailor. In fact, he actually impressed Morta (for once), introducing the soldier to a couple of vulgarities he'd never heard before.
Finally, he turned to Morta and threw up his hands in the air. "Well?!" His voice was full of impotent rage. "Don't just stand there! Make sure the path is safe to proceed!"
Enough was enough.
Morta fixed the man with a glare. "You mean you want me and my men to march down this hallway and set off any number of potential hidden traps?"
Morta crossed his arms. Behind him, he could hear his men's leather armor creak as they settled into ready positions, hands resting on weapons and tightening around grips.
"Yeah. That's not going to happen."
Aleister's eyes bulged. His face turned red. He sputtered incoherently with rage.
He pulled out a talisman from one of the pouches on his belt and leveled it at Morta. He drew in a breath, trying to puff out his chest and appear intimidating. Clearly, he thought he could bully the War Hounds into doing what he wanted.
And then, almost faster than the eye could follow, Morta popped the man in the nose. Morta was a professional, but he had little patience for bullies, and he had no tolerance for anyone who would threaten his men.
Aleister fell backwards with a cry, bouncing in front of the first mirror in the hallway; the talisman rolled from his fingers, about halfway down the corridor.
The sorcerer scrambled after the amulet, but froze about halfway to his target.
Morta followed Aleister's gaze. The mirror closest to the wizard was no longer cloudy. Instead, it showed a forest scene, an elf standing on the other side of the glass. The ranger had blue black hair and startling green eyes, wearing a startled look. When her eyes alighted onto Aleister, though, hatred replaced her surprise.
The elf stalked forward, nocking an arrow as she did so. She drew and fired as she advanced, and the arrow streaked out of the mirror and would have skewered Aleister had he not summoned a translucent shield of energy and thrown it up into the air. The tip of the arrow hung a few inches from his face. Two more arrows were fired in rapid succession, but now Aleister looked smugly back at the elf. The shield closed around him in a glowing dome.
Morta looked at the other mirrors while Aleister engaged in this standoff. Different scenes and figures from Across West Kruna faded into view. He recognized a few faces, like Marshal Anya, the Kasan, and that sword priestess with the pink hair, but many others were unfamiliar. All of these warriors marched through the mirrors, weapons drawn, and began to hammer down on Aleister’s barrier.
So far, the Warhounds had managed to go unnoticed by the new arrivals, their attention focused entirely on Aleister. The mirror closest to Morta showed Bridgeport in the distance, a town the War Hounds had been to numerous times in the past.
"Right lads." Morta's voice was flat. "We're out."
The men grinned. Yes, the War Hounds were technically breaking their contract for the first time ever, but Aleister had broken it first. Plus, you know, the man was as likable as a scorpion wasp.
Morta led the way through the mirror, and found himself breathing in the pleasant scent of a morning after rainfall. The rest of the War Hounds quickly followed, stepping onto the road leading to Bridgeport.
The group warily watched the portal standing in the middle of the road; a moment later, there was a loud explosion and an armored knight came hurtling through the opening before it blinked out of existence.
Morta approached the figure laying in the road, who groaned. Morta knelt and gently removed the knight’s helmet, revealing a concussed young man who blinked a couple of times before focusing on the War Hounds' leader.
"Can you stand, lad?" Morta's voice was friendly.
The knight nodded, groggily, and picked himself up. Morta threw an arm around the young man's shoulder, turning him around and starting to walk towards Bridgeport.
"I suspect you and I have a great many stories to tell one another, my boy."
The War Hounds followed the pair, sheathing their weapons and glad to still be alive.
"But first, I think we could all do with a great many drinks."
--Part 4--
The Shield of Will was a relatively simple spell, but the more abuse the barrier took, the more energy it took to maintain. Aleister had heard of a variation to the magic that was self-sustaining, translating kinetic force into power that kept the field in place, but he had yet to figure out that particular arcane formula.
Aleister gritted his teeth as a blow from a berserker's war hammer shook the dome of energy around him. Improving the Shield of Will would be yet another mystery he could solve once he'd entered the Library.
Taking stock of his options, the sorcerer grimaced. If there were one or two opponents, he could just rip out their souls, taking their power as his own, and be done with it. But there were ten people here, all of whom he'd crossed before and subsequently hated him: The rest of these enemies would strike him down before he could steal their strength, as well.
He fed more power into the shield, channeling the energy through a Refraction Ruby in order to amplify the power before sending it out. If he was lucky, the shield would be strong enough to... to...
Aleister grinned.
And then he continued to feed energy into the shield. The dome grew almost opaque, then began to crackle with arcane power. The blows continued to rain down, but Aleister could barely hear them, and his opponents were little more than blurry shapes through the spell.
More power flowed. By now, the wall of energy was so overcharged that it vibrated, sending out minor tremors across the floor. The heroes had clearly noticed this, based on the retreating shadows it looked like they were falling back.
It didn’t matter, now. With one more push of power, the shield buckled and exploded outwards. A shockwave of energy slammed outwards, knocking heroes through the hallway's portals at random before the mirrors themselves were shattered into thousands of pieces.
Sweating and breathing heavily, Aleister looked around the now-empty hallway. All that remained of the mirrors were scattered shards of black glass.
The wizard took a moment to compose himself, and then strode towards the double doors at the end of the hallway.
It was a heady moment, one that made him feel a little dizzy from all the excitement. Infinite knowledge was so close, he could almost taste it.
Continued in The Dead Keep.
Category:Humans