The skies above fallen Saptra were discoloured and moody. Undead continued to prowl the streets long after the last morsel of prey had been devoured. Marché and his followers were the first band of living humans to grace the city with their presence since it had been conquered by the Order. Lieze had graciously allowed them to purchase a number of wagons to more efficiently cart thralls back and forth.
Marché himself oversaw the efforts of his comrades from the relative safety of the southern gate. Using the immobilising powers of the Wraith, they were able to paralyse and take control of any Gravewalkers that stumbled too close to the city perimeter. A wagon peeled off from the muddy highway on a return trip to Tonberg--the second shipment of thralls to be delivered to Lieze.
"May I have a word, master?"
Marché sighed as he was approached by a sore-covered follower.
"I'm not your master anymore." He replied, "That title now belongs to Lieze. What do you want?"
"It's going to be difficult accruing 250 thralls in two days' time…" The follower admitted, "If we travel too far into the city, we risk attracting the attention of Rot Behemoths and Briarknights… some of us have already been injured."
"That can't be helped. This is an important opportunity to prove our worth to the Order. If we can gather enough thralls, Lieze will entrust us with more responsibilities. If it's getting too dangerous, then try to funnel the undead into a chokepoint, like an alleyway."
"Of course. But…" The follower scratched the back of his head. Marché recognised him. He was often pressured by the others to be the primary bearer of bad news, of which there had been no shortage since the inception of their lowly cult.
"-The others aren't so eager to serve Lieze?" He predicted the complaint.
"No… they aren't."
"I understand that. She's an outsider." Marché folded his arms, "Drayya, too. They think that just because we're a bunch of amateurs, they can order us around however they like. After all--it's their recommendations we're reliant on to join the Order."
"It's more complicated than that, master…"
"What did I just tell you?"
"My apologies… but surely you understand it as well?" The follower questioned, "Even if our goals are aligned, we've always been… a community. But all of a sudden, we've been uprooted. Moved somewhere else like soldiers on the march…"
"Do you mean to say everyone else preferred that life?" Marché asked, "Squatting in the sewers like vermin? Struggling to make ends meet? Perhaps it was 'quaint' in some sickly, pitiable way, but we weren't accomplishing anything. We were just vagrants. Outcasts. Dare I say--idealists."
The follower didn't respond. He was spiritually homeless, desperate to belong. Their cult had been a pathetic gathering of fools, but it at least belonged to them. They controlled their own destinies. With the advent of Lieze and Drayya, they felt more like slaves.
"We are tainted by love." Marché began, "Those two… they're the opposite. They have never known love. They were destined to become necromancers from birth, and groomed to fit that mold. They have a certain… deep appreciation for death. I almost wish that I could be so apathetic…"
"What should I tell the others?" The follower asked.
"Tell them nothing." He replied, "Do they desire independence? Then let them make their own decisions. If any of them choose to abandon the cult, then they won't be spared when the Order reappears. I've been far too lenient with you all--with myself, even. If you chose to become a necromancer because you thought it would be easy, then I'm afraid you're going to be sorely disappointed."
It was the natural culmination of Marché's efforts to gather like-minded individuals within the city. Some of them didn't have what it took to represent the Order's ideals. He wasn't entirely immune to the feeling himself--the frustration that accompanied their new, servile position in the world. Despite sharing beliefs, it almost felt like he and his followers were being defeated by the likes of Lieze and Drayya.
But that was the path they had chosen. A path bereft of love or honour, where power and influence were the deciding factors of success. Those who couldn't handle the pressure wouldn't hesitate to call Marché a traitor--comrades he'd suffered alongside for years. It wouldn't be easy for him to reject them, but if he was incapable of that much, then there would be no future for him in the Order.
"...A Rot Behemoth?"
"Think about it." Drayya smirked, "All of these Gravewalkers arriving from Saptra won't be useful as anything but meat shields. We have more than enough blood to suit our needs in the coming days, so why not create something truly dangerous?"
"That's all well and good, but… where would we keep it?" Lieze replied, "We only have so much space here."
"Well, how about this?" Drayya placed both hands in front of her, "We begin the process in here. We keep the Behemoth small enough that it can still leave the hideout--that way, we can reap the benefits of the alchemy table. Once it grows to a certain size, we move it outside and continue empowering it from there."
"The logistics of moving a Rot Behemoth around isn't what bothers me." Lieze said, "I just don't think it would be particularly useful in a battle."
"Because of how slow it would be?" Drayya paused, "We can mend that, can't we?"
"Yes, but only so much…"
"-Not to mention, what it would lack in power, it would more than make up for in strength and durability." She continued, "...You are capable of creating one, aren't you?"
"I am, but…"
New Quest Received!
'A Puzzle of Flesh' - Control a Rot Behemoth that is at least level 20
Reward - 2,000xp
"Of course…" Lieze sighed internally, "Now I can't afford not to create one…"
"Come on, Lieze." Drayya nudged, "You know you want to."
"What I want isn't important in the least." She replied, "-But, I suppose it would make for good practice."
Drayya's excitement was palpable. Her bias towards more advanced thralls had been apparent since she began her training as a young girl. She eagerly departed for the alchemy chamber while Lieze consulted her scale for instructions.
Ability - Necromantic Alchemy (Rot Behemoth)
Description - Spend 1 hour conjoining thralls together to create a Rot Behemoth. A minimum of 2 human-sized thralls are required to create a Level 1 Rot Behemoth. The Rot Behemoth's level then increases by 1 for every 2 additional thralls added. This requirement is permanently increased by 1 thrall for every 10 levels the Rot Behemoth has attained. You can conjoin a maximum of 6 thralls per hour spent.
"This is also a good way to transform weaker thralls into something more productive…" She thought, "All these hours are adding up… I'll need to delegate some of our members to alchemy once Marché and his disciples return…"
Drayya was deep in thought as Lieze worked her way up to the alchemy chamber (which was really just an empty room with an alchemy table and a barrel full of blood).
"How large do you think it will be before we won't be able to move it outside anymore?" She wondered, "I think we could use about 60 Gravewalkers, at the absolute maximum."
Lieze worked out the math in her head. It would take 20 thralls to create a [Level 10] Rot Behemoth. For every level afterwards, it would take 1 additional thrall to level it up, meaning a grand total of 50 thralls would be needed to create a [Level 20] Behemoth. Almost precisely half of their available sacrifices.
"We'll use 50. That's a nice, round number." Lieze decided, "Have Alma ferry the Gravewalkers in. This is going to take us the whole day to accomplish."
"I'm almost shaking with anticipation, Lieze." Drayya grinned, "When you first told me of your little cult, I didn't think we were going to accomplish anything. But here we are, creating Rot Behemoths of our very own. Master Sokalar is in for quite the surprise when he arrives."
"Hm. Are you that eager to impress him?"
"Impress him?" Drayya recoiled at the term, "Lieze--at the rate we're raising thralls, we could very well surpass the Order in a month or two."
"-Assuming we survive the next week." She sighed, "Right. Enough about that. Let's get started on this Rot Behemoth before the day leaves us behind."
Alma was kind enough to continuously ferry Gravewalkers through the hideout as Lieze and Drayya worked their magic, though she was quite concerned about just what sort of heinous ritual could possibly require almost half of their available thralls. Her worries were soon proven correct as the victims she brought in were slowly and methodically grafted to one-another.
By the time an hour had passed, the corpse-puzzle had taken on a mind of its own. Shivering belts of muscle were conjoined with pulsing organ tissue in an unholy amalgamation of flesh. As the hours ticked by, the monster only became more deplorable as it grew in size, transforming from a formless mass into a bipedal creature not entirely unlike a Horror.
MP - 557/570
MP - 532/570
MP - 518/570
"Hah! It's magnificent!" As Drayya threw open her arms, flecks of blood flew from her fingertips, "Imagine two--or even three of these protecting the hideout!"
"We aren't done yet." Lieze tried fruitlessly to shake the blood from her own hands, "Alma. Bring in the next batch of Gravewalkers."
"Of course…" Having completely resigned herself to the unfolding horror, Alma could only bow her head, "I'll be back in a moment."
It wasn't long after that exchange when another of Marché's wagons returned with more undead in tow. For the first time since the siege, Lieze didn't feel completely defenceless. If they could keep the pace going forward, they'd have quite the formidable force by the end of the week.
The hours ticked by. As the Rot Behemoth grew in size and power, yet more Gravewalkers arrived in full-to-bursting wagons. Marché had made good on his promise to deliver at least 250 thralls. Uplifting the Rot Behemoth to [Level 20] ended up taking 9 hours of continuous work. By the time Lieze and Drayya had finally wrapped the bloody business up, the sun had already vanished into the horizon.
MP - 426/570
Quest 'A Puzzle of Flesh' Complete!
Reward - 2,000xp
Level Up!
You are now level [17]
HP+10 MP+45
MIND + 1
"Mind…?" The word repeated in her head, "Ah, my so-called 'attributes'? I wonder what those are…"
Lieze Sokalar
Level 17 Necromancer
HP - 175/175 MP - 518/615
BODY - 4 MIND - 8 SOUL - 5
EXP - 1670/2700
Skills and Features - Necromancy (lvl. 2) / Necromantic Alchemy (lvl. 3) / Identify
"Hm…"
With some effort, Drayya managed to pull her attention away from the fruits of their labours, looking a tad frustrated that Lieze wasn't quite so enthusiastic about their first Rot Behemoth.
"There you go again, staring at that 'gift' of yours." She noticed, "You say it grants you 'power', but in what way? Faster growth, or something like that?"
"I suppose so." Lieze replied, "But, it's not only that. It grants me the power of… I suppose you could call it 'information'."
"Information?"
"I can… perceive someone's individual strengths--how powerful they truly are. It's all represented by numbers. But, I don't fully understand how it works just yet…"
"Hm~" Drayya looked somewhat amused, "How interesting. It's no wonder you've been picking your fights so carefully up until now. But, if you can tell how powerful someone is at a glance, why were you insistent on attacking Helmach? Didn't you know we would lose?"
"That's just it--I can't glean anything about Helmach. It's the same for his comrade--that woman you met in the chapel, and also for the fossil who's always standing at Ricta's side. The one called Alistair." Lieze explained, "They're… anomalies. I wouldn't have planned that ambush if I thought it wasn't possible to kill Helmach."
"Strange…" Drayya paused, "-Don't you think so, too?"
"I do, but what are we supposed to do about it?"
"Oh, Lieze…" She hung her head, "You may have developed some skills as a necromancer, but you've yet to adopt the kind of mindset one needs to survive in the Order."
"...What do you suggest we do, then?"
"The night is young." Drayya smiled, "What do you say we do a little reconnaissance? I think I might have just the thing to help us along…"