I played a game of cat and mouse, I thought about increasing my size, but thought better of it as I didn't get any stronger in that form. It was far better for intimidation than actual combat.
Sending a series of venom splashes that I hoped where causing damage to the aberrations. Meanwhile they worked losely together in order to try and ensnare me. Rarely was the time that I could actually battle against others directly. Don't get me wrong I loved leading my puppets but still a girls got to kill every now and again!
Jumping up to avoid the jaws of the Makhai, and as I weaved around I coated my venom onto the strings of webbing before throwing them at the two hounds causing them to bark and wreath. I continued my assault after once again checking the lines, the combat was heavy on the western corridors. Sending reinforcements I refocused onto my fight.
A Makhai stomped it's front paws and wreathing from the dark shadows ethereal forms of baying hounds lunged at me from all angles as I to quickly scurry away from the attack.
Backing up I once again began to distract them this time though I had an idea. Taking off an elite puppet outfitted with one of the swords Kien made for them. I had seen what that blue fire ability could do to a wraith and I had to refocus on my task as commander.
...
Kien's P.O.V
...
Anastasia was battling the two hounds which the system called Makhai, the name seemed vaugely familiar but didn't ring any bells. I had left my perch from new exit which I sealed. A second phase of the battle. Paranoia and fear, I knew most of the undead where unintelligent but the ones who where intelligent where my targets to began with.
I had pulled back the Scouts in order to protect the hidden nature this was a solo mission, a risky one. We however where on a back foot power wise. Anastasia was powerful but not Seer level so if the odds weren't even I would make them even.
When the bloodred sunstones dimmed mimicking night, I slowly crept near the enemy war camp. I had no doubt they had a way to find scouts In their actual camp, but I wasn't going to be their.
Reaching into the ground around the Warcamp I flet the foreign mana rushing like river Warring on my control of the earth. It would be enough to stop me from simply crushing the whole camp. I had enough power to do what came next though. Reaching up I pulled and formed a figure in the center of their camp.
...
In the Draugur Warcamp
...
The Jarl sat upon his seat In the commanders tent, one he liberated from the hands of Clan Fenjuri or wait was it Vendur? Eh, the fallen brokered no import.
Retracing his thoughts he pictured his opponent. Clad in a slivery metal plate and brown cloak upon his shoulders he certainly reminded the Jarl of the fallen Knights of... Argg the Jarl couldn't remember their name just that they where a pain! Time, memories, and glorious moments that had long gone had begun to slip the Jarl's mind like a water from a broken water skin.
He reminisced on his origin which had remained blissfully intact. He was born to a warrior a proud one, with a wolf's bite and a snakes cunning. His father had seized power from Jarl Seigwrn and married the Seigwrn's daughter legitimizing his rule.
Before his Father the Cunning Jarl Bj?rn had come to power the Blood laurels where a minor migratory tribe roaming the caves and picking at the petty kings that rose and fell over the course this caverns history. Jarl Bj?rn raided and weakened the strongest of the forces of the Caverns. It was this chaotic world that he had gained rule, he had struggled as much as it hurt him to admit he was weaker then his father. He though he Jarl Hemming Bj?rnson had a greater ambition than everyone else, it was this ambition that led him to the worship of Dark Princeling....
"My Lord someone is in our Camp!" The voice of one of the Seer's Cultists burst through the flaps of fabric acting as a door to the commanding tent. Sighing the Jarl stood up maneuvered around the table containing the war board. He walked up to the cultist.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
"Boy, watch your tone, if this is a farce or a petty play speak so now you shall be allowed to leave with your Undeath intact, I shall keep your tongue though" the Jarl spoke in his slow but steady cadence. While he was at the darkening period of his life he still towered over the undead around him.
"Uu, uhhh, umm, no no no no my liege, Jarl, and beacon of the Dark Princeling's power, I would never dream of such a thing" the pitiful being stuttered.
"Good" the Jarl stated before he walked out and looked at the clearing in the center of camp. Their stood a shaded figure, clad in shadows, their outline was familiar, the armor style the cloak and the weapons. It was the enemy leader standing in the middle of the Warcamp.
"Are you here to surrender or are you a fool of the highest order?" The Jarl spoke staring at the being across from him. The being lifted its pointer finger leveling the appendage at him. A voice rumbled out sounding like a two stones rubbing against each other.
"Hey, Fucknut how are you? You spend so much time in this camp here I figured you would have better lodgings, and you're right I'm not surrending, I'm letting you know that you are not safe I'm always watching, see I know a far amount about you, like you're frequent walks around the forest and how you always stop around that Creek over yonder you know the one with the discarded swords in it" the cocky figure spoke weirdly he seemed to speak also with his hands, however that barely registered to the Jarl.
He knew his bi-daliy walks back to the last raid his father had lead before consumption took hold.
"I know not how you broke through the blockade but know this false divine your corpse shall serve me as a replacement for the slaying of my champions!" The Jarl spoke with malice and venom before he attacked, the Jarl did not lunge, he did move but the world warped around them as he raised his hand at the being across from him and tore. All he found was a pile of rubble and a chackling laugh.
...
Back to Kien
...
Ah, I had a feeling that the place I mentioned held some semblance to him. Giving a Cheshire grin I weaved through the forest as undead poured outwards from the War Camp and began to scour the forest. Moving towards the aforementioned creek I created a true horror scene.
First off I warped the bark of the trees into laughing faces, then I created a statue of the Jarl completely life like but without his head and I also spent a significant amount of mana to put a [Force Field] just a nice cherry on top of he tried to destroy.
Then I took a copy of his head and did the good old Vlad and stuck it on a spear making it macabre kebab! Quickly retreating back to the caves and returning to the out look I saw the rustling of the trees and forest as the dead looked for me and my eyes.
Then I heard it a scream of rage, oh great he found it!
...
To the creek Bj?rnstand
...
The Jarl saw red and a deep anger and desperate tumultuous beast raged in, he wants to destroy, scream, and he wanted to crush the skull of the that sliver armoured prick! The inner monologue of the Jarl eventually poured water on the flames of his rage turning the flame into hot coals waiting for a spark.
Not only had he disrespected the last glorious battle of his Father he used his father's greatest foes spear to impale a replica of the Jarls head on it. As much as he wanted to burn the that fuckers corpse to ash and spread across the cave forcing his spirit to be restless and without a home. No, the best revenge would be to turn the assholes corpse into his puppet like he had done with so many of his rivals. Hatred burned deeply in Jarl, no longer was this another battle against another spoiled lordling of the system no, this was personal.
...
In the Realm known as the Roving Tides
...
A man sat on a washed up log giggling to himself as he watched his newest plaything dance along. While that brute had forbidden a great deal of the fun things he did have a little wiggle room to whisper into the young divines mind.
Unbeknownst to the sailor a pair of dark eyes brimming with uncontained anger watched him.
...
Back to Anastasia, before Kien's Shenanigans
...
It was rough going battling these two for some reason as the steady waves increased they seemed to get more and more aggressive.
Using the more expendable puppets as distractions while keeping the Elite ready to strike meanwhile I also harassed and whilted down the shadowy bear like creatures.
Sending five puppets lining their weapons in venom it was the equivalent of killing something by paper cuts. However I was also crafting something forming a totem, it was bit on the fly and one of the designs that I received from the system. It was supposed to force spirits to be more physical essentially making them easier to damage. A Makhai dispersed into liquid cave dark and rematerialized drawing my attention from my task and to evading until I refocus on etching the ley lines of the totem. Battlefield totem making was not easy but it was a skill I was going to have to master. After a bit more back and well back as my puppets nicked them hear and their. The few times that the elites sword flared in azure fire the Makhai retreated as if they had away to sense the magic or what other force Kien had smithed into his swords.
A small thrum vibrated reality causing a phantasmal vertigo just beyond my body. The Makhai became more solid and their bodies revealed a barely bear shaped creature with a longer snout and tail with blood red fur and littered with scars. Then I launched into combat, the Elite now filly capable of striking them began to leave puncture wounds and the others used their wooden spears to run them through. The Totem of Spirit Reverberation was a new trump card to help our forces deal with spectral forces.
"HHHHHHHAAAAAAAAARRRRGHHHH" An unfamiliar voice echoed a deep far off bellow belaying anger and intense hatred.
