• Graded • Bonemaker: Goliath

[Neronin]

58th Trial of Ashan, Arc 717
Noth’s Cavern

Neronin shuffled past the fallen log which had sometime in the past been dragged across the entrance to Mongrel’s Cavern. He felt the blurriness in his vision pulsing when he moved too fast. He felt strung out, like the past few trials were catching up to him. He had spent them is a state of fear and anxiety, struggling for life with an enemy he thought was dead. So the necromancer understood his strain. Still, that damn old man was creeping around somewhere out there, waiting to kill him. But this was Neronin’s city now, he had inherited the territory when he cast Gavrel aside.

The necromancer hissed as he pulled his mind back from that dangerously prideful track. He leaned against the wall of the cavern, the cool stones a welcome sensation against his body. He concentrated on his breathing for a moment, closing his eyes. Could he stand against Gavrel in this state. The old master had manipulated him, had destroyed his home and his prized journal. He had kept Neronin at bay with minimal effort. Could he really stand toe to toe with his old mentor and master?

Yes.

Neronin had Mongrel. He had Maws. Well, Maws was gone. Neronin hoped he would be here in the Cavern, returned from the fight. But he didn’t let his hopes get too high. Mongrel would be vital in tipping the scales in his direction though. This was, in essence, the reason he had thrown his lot in with the pair back in Cylus. Dangerous friends meant protections of a sort he had never had before. Certainly societal opinions of necromancers alone was enough to prompt the association, Gavrel’s reappearance was just adding to that.

Neronin continued through the cavern, following the light he knew would lead to Noth’s fire. When he finally found the living area where Noth spent most of his time in the Cavern he was relieved to find the half-avriel home.

“Mongrel. I need your help.” He said, his voice strained with the exhaustion from the bout with Gavrel’s Haunt. “I have been attacked. My home has been destroyed.” Neronin said it and the reality of that crashed down upon him. He slumped to the floor of the cave, sighing as he leaned over his knees. “He came for me.” He looked up at Noth, hoping the monstrous bird-man understood the gravity and danger of that. “He knew where to find my home, but I was not there. Tabard had me inventorying and I was late… He burned the house down along with my spellbook.” Neronin ran his fingers through his sleek hair, his eyes betraying for a moment the loss he felt at losing his private journal.

The necromancer’s gaze drifted to the wall, his focus clearly far away. “But I followed. I hunted him, Mongrel.” The words came with a vicious triumph. “He didn’t expect me to be able to, but I traced his link, I don’t even know how. Not really.” He looked at the warrior, a look of frantic excitement on his face. The intensity and the moving shadows of the light gave him an eerie, mad visage. “I know where he is! We can go there now, and end this!” Neronin said. He got shakily to his feet and glanced down the cavern.

With a flickering of his witchbrand the necromancer balled his fists. “I can get the Maimers and we can hunt ourselves a necromancer.” The mage nodded to himself, not waiting for a response. He tore off down the cavern, towards the makeshift lab Noth had granted him. A few minutes later he appeared again, flanked by the three undead beasts they had used in their raid on the blacksmith. “What do you think? Will you help me?” Neronin asked his leader.

Made by Kovic

[Noth]

Marrow didn’t become worried. Throughout the entirety of the relationship between the two workmates, that had been something of a constant. That wasn’t to say that he wasn’t available for picking out flaws in a plan, nor that he seemed incapable of emotion whatsoever; though Noth did suspect that he might have some manner of sociopathic tendencies based entirely by observing his assorted mannerisms, but rather, Marrow simply managed to keep himself calm and collected when facing adversity.

Perhaps it was for that reason that Noth had immediately become alerted when the sound of relatively heavy and quick footfalls had resounded throughout the entrance of his cavernous home, noises that would likely have gone unnoticed had he not been involved in the quiet activity of reading through his old Book of Legends; other than the occasional turning of the page, there was little in the way of interfering noises to block out the sound of someone or something approaching.

True, it could have been that Ynush had returned to his cavern once more, likely seeking some semblance of reward for his services, or perhaps deigning it necessary to grant him some boon in return for a favor, but Noth had never known the murderous actor to move quickly. If anything, he had always been a relatively lethargic person, choosing only to move when it was absolutely necessary, mechanical in his interpretation of the word ‘necessary’. So, with the actor removed from the potential list of intruders along with the assumption that Ron would not run into his cavern unannounced, he readied himself.

He was upon his feet in mere moments, his hand instinctively reaching for his nearby mace, making the mental assumption that whatever approached would be upon him before he had time to notch and draw an arrow from his longbow. Technically, he was correct in that estimation, though the source of the footfalls quickly became clear, and he let out a silent sigh of relief, and returned his mace to its place upon the ground.

And then, he looked at Marrow, truly observed his facial features, and the way he had moved and behaved immediately came to mind. A look of curiosity must have stretched across his features, because an instant later, Marrow began to speak, stating that he required the assistance of his leader. He further spoke of having been attacked, of having his home destroyed by some undefined foe. That was certainly a cause for alarm, and the hybrid casually shifted his mace back into his hand, fully expecting for there to be forces pursuing his ally.

Instead, he observed with relative calm as the man he had always known as collected collapsed to his knees, sliding to the floor like one of his fleshy undead puppets with its strings snapped. The necromancer seemed somewhat panicked, or perhaps simply overburdened by recent events, and so the twilight hybrid too lowered himself to his knees; allowing himself to fall far more gracefully than his ally, and proceeded to reach out a tentative hand, placing it in the universal sign of comfort on his ally’s shoulder. Admittedly, he performed the action less out of empathy for the man, and more out of the duty seemingly required of leaders to take care of their underlings, but he could certainly sympathize with the plight of having one’s home torched to the ground, and being hunted by others was something difficult to grow accustomed to by those unfamiliar with the concept.

The hybrid had fully expected the necromancer to request the protection of the martially inclined bird, but instead it seemed as though Ron was focused on a more proactive response to the acts of terror committed against him. He made it quickly clear that he had the location of his enemy, and that he intended to hunt him down with his help and that of his abominable undead constructs. Before the Avriel could even respond, Marrow had arisen to his feet and sprinted down the cavern, disappearing from view in an instant.

Noth carefully considered the idea, though he recognized that he did not have nearly as much information as he would have liked for decision-making purposes. He was meant to be the leader, and yet it seemed as though he knew the least out of any of his allies on the subject. That could be rectified on the way, however, he realized, and the idea of having an opponent hunting down one of his people was one that was frustrating at least, and potentially extremely dangerous.

The pale faced fellow appeared a moment later, the creatures he had created confined to walking at his side, keeping careful watch of their master.

To display worry was to admit that he was uncertain, and to deny his ally would show that his ambitions cared little for his well-being; both items detrimental to the prospects of a unified faction.

“Absolutely. I will not allow for an enemy to attack you so brutally, and then not face the repercussions of their actions, to not feel the full force of our might.” Our. They were a group after all, and he hoped the subtle mention would instill that further into his ally’s mind. “I must grab my armor and armament. I will meet you outside and we will go forth at once.”

He began to sift through his pile, taking the quiver of arrows he often used and sliding it over his shoulder.

“You can inform me more of our enemy on the way.” He stated, making it almost sound like a choice.
Almost.

[Neronin]

Neronin was thankful for the readiness with which Noth greeted his plea. He knew he must seem ragged and desperate. Neronin loathed that he needed to come pleading to Noth. It meant a dependency, the thing he despised above all else. Dependence, need, weakness. Neronin hated it in himself but was glad of Noth’s presence nonetheless. He was loyal as much as could be expected in their dark contract. His willingness to help meant Neronin had something Gavrel would not, an ally. The necromancer knew his old master well, knew his aversion to alliance and trust. It was a weakness that could be exploited.

As they walked, Neronin steered them to the east, in the direction that would best fit the vision he had seen. “He’s in a barn or storage building to the east. He is near but not within the city, undoubtedly he fears the authorities will meddle in his hunt of me.” Neronin said as the Maimers pounded along flanking them. It was dark and the flame of farmstead and cottage were easily avoided as the party gave each beacon of civilization a wide berth.

The necromancer knew Noth was expecting more of an explanation, and knew that such an explanation was vital. The warrior needed to know the danger they went to. He needed to know the conviction with which Gavrel pursued him. Neronin wondered briefly if Noth would be shaken by the story. As he glanced over at the warrior before speaking he had a hard time picturing him shaken in that way. He had stoically accepted all of Neronin’s dark magic, but that was in an ally. A compatriot who did not turn such magics against him. It was one thing to witness the brutality of the undead, and it was another to be the focus of it. Neronin knew what it meant to be both. In his dreams he was consumed by them every night. He glanced at the Maimer nearest to him with a furtive look.

“He was my mentor.” Neronin said finally. The first words came slowly and hesitantly, but after their spillage from his mouth he could not keep back the rest of the story. “He was wretched and used me. I hated him and he hated me. That being said, he did teach me. He initiated me and he is the reason I now have this power that defines me.” Neronin glanced down at his palms, as if envisioning the necrotic ether twisting around them. “As I said, I hated him and his controlling ways. Eventually I found a way, or so I’d thought, of ridding myself of him.”

They turned a corner in that moment and walked down a gradual hill into a low valley east of Etzos. A few farmsteads and other buildings winked at them merrily in the darkness. Families were huddled near fireplaces then or else hunched over dinners. Men and women rested in their homes after a long day’s work. And somewhere Gavrel plotted death.

“He attempted an animation ritual that was… ambitious. There is a way for the necromancer to enlarge an undead through intense application of ether, magical energy. The result is a massive undead that if not correctly maintained can be a danger to the necromancer as well.” Neronin said, his eyes on the nearest farmhouse. His voice had taken on a coldness in the dark, as if he relished the memory. “I interfered with the ritual, sapping some of his strength and breaking his concentration. I locked him in the lab with the monstrosity and fled. I believed it to have killed him, because I had not seen him since, until now.” The words sunk into a tone of apprehension as he admitted this last. “He’s a necromancer of some power. I believe he has bided his time to confront me, meaning he believes he has some weapon or ability to do the deed. We should be wary.”

Neronin glanced over at the silhouette of Etzos briefly. He turned and pointed to the north more. “It is more that way. I’ll know it when I see it.” Neronin began to set off across a field of tall grass. Nearby there was a rustling sound and one of the Maimers lunged. With a squeal it appeared again with half a fox in its mouth, chewing at the corpse. After a few more minutes of walking and another field Neronin stopped. There, nestled in a corpse of evergreens was a farmhouse that had no light, and a barn. This was the place.

Neronin motioned to Noth. “Look, no fire.” Then he gestured to the city. “This is it, I’m sure of it.”

Made by Kovic

[Noth]

The twilight hybrid exited the cave after having retrieved his full accouterments of supplies and weaponry, and promptly began to follow Marrow as he led the way to the supposed hideaway of their new enemy. As his talons gently fell upon the ground, he began a quick mental checklist, but promptly silenced the planning portion of his brain as the necromancer before him once more began to reveal information on their target. He spoke first of the general location of their foe; a barn or a storage building, which wasn’t terribly informative given how many structures matching that description seemed to have been constructed in the Etzori countryside, but it was at least a narrowing down of some substance. Thankfully, it seemed as though Ron was capable of sensing their opponent through his dark energies, which made his tracking skill altogether unimportant in the hunt; a pleasant change from the norm.

They crept along in the darkness, flanked by the monstrosities forged from deep within his own cave, beasts ripped into reality from his basement, their flesh rent and torn in places, and their mouths flickering in hungry anticipation of a warm meal. Without proper illumination, it was difficult to tell whether or not their mouths salivated like a living beings when presented with the prospect of fresh food, but he imagined that even if they did, their chins would be coated more in bile than any other less macabre substance. He didn’t even want to consider where any of the meat they actually ate went, because the idea of it sitting and festering in their intestinal tracks, gradually expanding those tubes of meat until they had burst at the seams was utterly detestable. He shuddered, reminding himself promptly that he didn’t want to think about it.

Glowing lights acted as beacons to their travel, giving them a rough impression of where Etzos was in the pale moonlight, and serving also as reminders that they were skulking around with undead minions, and did not at all desire to be spotted. The repercussions of the general populace becoming acutely aware of the presence of a necromancer in their midst, especially one with as much talent as Ron was would be quite difficult to suppress or defend against, doubly so once the Tower learned of the mage.

Ron elaborated on the nature of their hunt as they walked, making it clear that the man they were after had once been his mentor. That implied that the fellow they were facing had a fair possibility of being stronger in the dark arts than Marrow, and that anxious fear was only intensified when he stated that his ex-teacher would not have come out of hiding to face him unless he was certain that he would be capable of winning. Admittedly, Noth was fairly comfortable with his martial abilities, but by no means was he a warrior of intense renown and talent, and he seriously questioned the effectiveness of arrows and maces against already dead and ravenous entities. Would shooting one in the heart even stop it for a moment? Would shattering their bones slow them effectively, or simply act as a minor determent to their feast?

The necromancer had mentioned how he had attempted to eliminate his mentor, how he had interfered in a particularly volatile ritual and then locked his master away with the monster he had created, assuming that it would devour him. At that, the hybrid could only shake his head, the movement gentle and likely not easily discerned in the shadows. He didn’t quite understand why people always assumed that their plans had managed to kill someone, and yet they often decided that it was prudent not to search for the body of the deceased, or to double-check that their operation had worked as they had intended. Loose ends such as those were almost storybook-ish in their nature, and he honestly expected a little more pragmatic realism on the part of his closest ally, though, that was a conversation for another time.

There was a rustle at his side, and a sharp squeal as a fox was removed from a nearby bush by one of the abominations marching with them, the already dead animal held in its maw, eerily reminiscent of a hound who displays its kill to its proud owner. Technically, a majority of the meat and hide of the poor vulpine had been preserved, though it would be rather difficult to skin half of a corpse at a time, and he wouldn’t even want to fathom the idea of eating meat that had come anywhere near the gaunt amalgam’s mouth for fear of catching a wretched disease and perishing in an absolutely awful manner.

The necromancer brought them to a close, having sighted a farmhouse and a barn further ahead, their lights having perished for the night. Ron spoke with a sort of vivid certainty, as though the absence of light was enough to guarantee that the structure possessed his old master, though he quickly recalled the way he had led them here, and simply assumed that he could somehow sense the enemy within.

“I see. I imagine that the best option for simply eliminating the man is to sneak forward from here, bar the doors to both structures, and then set them both ablaze. Though, admittedly that might draw some undue attention, and clearly your teacher has a propensity to survive certain death.”
He smiled, nodding to Marrow in the process.

“First part of the plan then. Sneak forward. If you believe he’s in the barn, then it would be best for us to burgle into the farmhouse and set ourselves up somewhat defensively before launching your… beasts into the barn.”
That seemed entirely reasonable to him, but he stopped himself after another moment of staring down at the farmhouse before admitting,

“Though. This is your master, and you’re certainly better versed in how he thinks than I am. What, pray tell, do you think the best plan of attack is, Marrow?”

[Neronin]

“No, he is a rupturer as well as a necromancer.” Neronin said without looking at the half-avreil. He eyed both the barn and the farmhouse with narrowed, pale eyes. Neronin looked as though he was at his wits end, listening to the darkness for signs of his previous master. His mind was struggling to operate at its usual sharpness and his body’s image and energy seemed to have wilted to some degree to make up for it. His breathing was hard and his hair slightly wild. His ragged robes seemed at odds with the usual midnight stillness of their appearance. He cleared his throat and turned to the house. “Lets clear that one first then.”

Neronin began to move forward as silently as he could. He was no master of stealth though, and his footfalls brushed dead leaves and grass as he walked. He was not concerned, or rather he doubted whether competent stealth would make a difference. “We should use the undead sparingly, we may need to use them to save our own skins.” As he approached the front door of the house he paused. A pair of boots lay out of the cracked door. Neronin quickly approached and knelt before them. He pulled and a body slid out into the moonlight. It was in a heavy state of decay and had maggots festering on the face and chest.

“It’s old.” Neronin said, glancing up at Noth. “The maggots mean its nearly seven trials at least. The stiffness indicates the same. This is the right place.” Neronin felt his heart speeding up. His nerves stretched past their previous strain. He was here. Gavrel had murdered these people and he was here. Neronin felt the fear wash over him. “I don’t think he would be in the house if he left the bodies like-“

Just as he said the word ‘this’ there was a massive groan from the barn and he jumped up. His witchbrands ignited as he looked towards the barn. The undead also turned as one to look at the barn, the noise and his focus shifting their attention. After what seemed a long heartbeat the barn door flew off its hinges with a resounding boom. The splintered wood flew out in a large arc. Neronin swore loudly as he swirled the magic within him.

“Shit!”

From within the dark recesses of the barn a massive figure shambled out. It was white and bulging with muscle, twice as tall as a man. The thing was undead, Neronin could see instantly. The jaw and face bore no skin, but a vile purple light in the eyes full of hunger. The body was clearly enraged by magic, the veiny seams of its skin shimmering with a dark purple light. It had bone spikes protruding from the massive legs and shoulders and instead of hands a pair of long, vicious claws clenched pulsing. On it’s chest was a flickering purple stone stitched into the corpse.

Behind the massive Hulk Neronin could see the flickering of candles and a bone altar inside the barn. His attention did not go to these items for more than a moment though. The massive beast charged at their small party, roaring in anger. Neronin shot a force of will towards the gaunts and they sprinted towards the hulk without hesitation as only the undead could. “The well! Remove the well, Mongrel!” Neronin shouted as he stepped through a momentary portal.

Neronin stepped out about twenty feet away and unleashed the Sap he had been storing. It ripped from him in a torrent of black and blasted into the hulking form. The sap did not slow the undead, but it began to decay it’s flesh as it hit. “Mongrel! That thing isn’t hitting the ground!” He shouted as his witchbrands flickered out. The three gaunts leapt upon the hulk with a vengeance. They began to rip at its back and arms where they clung, reaching for the well embedded in its chest. The hulk roared and threw one of the gaunts into the barn behind it and charged at Neronin.

[Noth]

Marrow immediately denied the idea of setting the entire place ablaze, stating that his master was a ‘rupturer’ as well as a necromancer. Noth was not well-versed in the topic of magic or the assorted forms that it could take, but he was under the impression that rupturing was the type which involved the ability to teleport oneself or others. In fact, he felt certain that he could remember a couple of ancient stories written in his Book of Legends which had focused rather heavily upon a pair of rupturers; the chief protagonists of that particular storyline. So, with that potentially ineffective scheme done away with, the pair instead determined to infiltrate the farmhouse in hopes of setting up a more defense position, and hopefully of locating the position of their foe.

The group of them were certainly not as quiet as they could have been, and realistically, some experience with the arts of stealth would not be unwanted in the future, but they were simultaneously hindered by the presence of the lumbering and quasi-feral monsters in their retinue. It was true that they had been fairly effective killers, and the image of the slain family of the blacksmith flickered to mind with equal parts respect for their murderous talent and trepidation at the thought of having to repeat the awful actions of that night. For all of their skills in battle, however, they were still mindless and lumbering creatures, and their ability to quietly creep around an area was very nearly nil.

As they neared the front door, Marrow turned once more, stating that they may wish to use the undead sparingly for the sake of saving their own skins. Noth once again was stricken by the realization that he didn’t exactly understand how the dark powers which his ally commanded actually worked, and he wondered immediately whether or not their opposition would be able to re-direct the gnashing teeth and rending claws of their current allies against them with a flick of his hand. The hybrid kept his eyes pinned to the perimeter, fully expecting to be assailed from behind whilst they began their insertion into the home, but their movement was halted moments later when the necromancer yanked upon a pair of boots jarring the door open, and promptly retrieved a maggot-ridden body from the entryways grasp.

He was not an expert on the decay of corpses, but it would not have taken one to realize that the man had been there for quite some time. The wriggling and fetid white worms inched along his half-eaten form, burrowing into their homes within his flesh; caves like his own, but made of veins and arteries of coagulated blood and stewing with a vile stench. The hybrid found himself captivated by the corpse, remembering his own experience with anatomy and where he had learned it; a day spent hacking away at the dead bodies of his enemies and testing his assorted weapons upon their already deceased flesh. It was this captivation which kept him from listening to his surroundings for a few moments, and from detecting the massive entity that trills later burst free from the barnyard, sending splinters of wood flying like vicious missiles against the farmhouse.

An abomination not entirely dissimilar from the ones they themselves employed in their schemes lurched forward from the barn. It was gargantuan in size, around double his size in length, and certainly far wider in artificial musculature. Its face had been stripped completely of flesh, and Noth found himself glaring at the skeletal framework underneath. It bristled with a strange and purple energy which reeked of the arcane, and its legs and shoulders had been almost artistically coated in spikes. Upon its chest glowed a very obvious source of power, even for those who were not familiar with the nature of constructs.

The shout came above the noise of the beast’s devastation to remove the ‘well’ from it. Noth could only assume that he was talking about the strange stone lying within its chest, but he also recognized that there was a chance he was incorrect. Nonetheless, there would be no time to discuss it further with his necromantic ally, because an instant later the thing had charged towards them, bristling with sheer brutality and coming into immediate conflict with the far smaller monsters under Ron’s command. They climbed atop it, ripping and tearing at it with savage abandon, unfamiliar with the fear that gripped mortal hearts. The twilight hybrid was reminded very briefly of a pack of wolves tearing at a bear, and found the analogy to be surprisingly fitting.

Dead hands met dead forms, gripping onto one of the smaller gaunt figures and hurling it aside as if though it were simply a toy to be trifled with, and then abandoned as pleased it. It charged moments later, tearing through the distance between it and Marrow with surprising speed given its tremendous size. The hybrid notched an arrow upon his longbow, observing the wind with his crimson Avriel eyes, and highlighting a target location. Long breaks spent hacking away at corpses had taught him a little about where certain pieces of the body connected, or, at least enough to know where to break things in order to make them fail.

He released his grip upon the taut string, hearing it reverberate with a gentle twang as it shot its missile forward, the projectile whistling through the air for a heartbeat before planting itself in the trunk-like leg of the beast before them. It had only just barely missed striking one of the bony spikes protruding from the monster, but it hadn’t seemed to accomplish its work nearly as well as the hybrid had intended. A relatively basic understanding of medicine coupled with a very basic understanding of necromancy along with a slight miscalculation of bodily proportions had led to the arrow striking somewhere within the thing’s thigh instead of the bone where it needed to strike. Thankfully, even that blow had done something to slow its advance by cutting through a few motor nerves, but it had not stopped it nearly as much as he desired.

The Avriel drew once more, this time well-behind the monster which had gotten remarkably close to his ally, and fired again. This time, the arrow hit its mark, burying itself through the back of his knee and shattering the bone, causing its leg to go limp in a heartbeat, and whilst it did not cry out in pain, nor stop its advance in earnest, it had made it far harder for the monster to properly travel; enough for Marrow to escape unscathed should he flee from his precarious situation, or at least, that was what Noth was hoping to occur.

[Neronin]

The hulking monstrosity fell into the grass with a shambling crash. Neronin felt his heart stutter in relief as the creature was diverted from his path. It took the necromancer a moment to realize what had caused the creature to fall. Mongrel had, in a moment of brilliant luck or skill which Neronin did not know he possessed, shot the beast through the patella, crippling its knee. Neronin hurried forward into the fight again. Noth had come here for him, without question. Neronin would not let his staunchest ally take on that beast alone.

The massive Hulk growled and its eyes once again fixed on Neronin. As Neronin approached, trying to get his maimers to attack the thing’s hidden chest, the Hulk lunged across the ground at him. Neronin was just able to blink away to dodge the attack. “Hang on, Mongrel!” Neronin shouted as he dodged the blow and recovered. He blinked closer to taunt the Hulk again, but this time off near it’s flank. Meanwhile the maimers were ripping into its back with a savage single-minded ferocity. They could, all three, fit onto its torso and feasted hungrily upon it’s rotting flesh. Neronin felt his spark erupt within him and ether shot out of his fingers as a Sap spell. The spell had the intended affect, agitating the Hulk into lunging for him again.

This time the great beast’s lung rolled it over onto it’s back. The maimers screeched and scattered back. They only paused a moment before lunging for it’s head. As they worked Neronin channeled a Sap spell as strong as he could make it at the huge undead thing. “Now, Mongrel! Get the well!” He hissed at his counterpart.

The great black winged warrior sprinted forward, his step bold and not a shadow of fear on his face. The leader of their faction leapt onto the thrashing undead’s chest, ducking a blow from it’s massive claws and loosing another arrow into it’s elbow, sending it flailing. Neronin watched as Mongrel bent and ripped the well from the chest of the Hulk with his talons. The thing stopped moving at once and Neronin and Mongrel stared at each other for a long moment while the maimers continued their feast. Then Neronin sent a shiver of willpower through to them and they relented.

Mongrel hopped down off the beast and tossed the well to Neronin. “Thank you, I am in your debt.” Neronin said in a weak voice. He collapsed with overgiving. The nausea shook him and he puked for a few minutes as Mongrel and the maimers watched silently.

After about a break of Neronin in fits, Mongrel helped him to his feet and they entered the barn. “I don’t think Gavrel is here still. He would have swooped in while i was recovering.” The necromancer said, grimacing in frustration. He walked over to the bone altar, Gavrel was always a theatric son of a bitch.

Neronin pushed all the notes and bits of bone aside until he spotted it. Gavrel’s journal. “He must have left in a hurry.” Neronin said with wicked relish. He picked the journal up and pocketed it after flipping through the pages. “And look,” Neronin said, grinning over at Mongrel. “Our reward.” He set his foot against a small chest he knew was filled with Gavrel’s money and worldly possessions.

[Zip]

Overview

The last time Nero was pretty before the midway approvals of the mutations :c why hurt poor hulk. Anyway, lovely action-packed thread. Enjoy your points.

@Cuckoo

Points

XP: 15/15

Loot/Injuries/Overstepping

300 GN from the lootbox. Ain't gonna be that lucky in battlefront

Knowledge

Ranged: Hitting Bigger Targets is Easier
Ranged: Be Careful Where you Shoot an Enemy.
Ranged: Fast Draw
Ranged: Fast Fire
Ranged: Critical Shots
Unarmed: Grabbing at Important Bits
Unarmed: Tearing Out a Well
PC: Marrow: Real name is Neronin

@Ninny

Points

XP: 15/15 (Rupturing)

Loot/Injuries/Overstepping

1 Imedyte well, Gavrel’s necromancy journal
Mild Overstepping for a season long gone by

Knowledge

Rupture: Blinking to Dodge attacks
Rupture: Blinking to Taunt enemies
Necromancy: Hulk
Leadership: Focusing undead attacks
Leadership: Shouting orders in battle

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