The Assault on the Cemetery of Lost Souls

“I want to make sure that you all understand… this will not be an easy battle.”

King Wolfrum turns on his heel, continuing his pacing as he addresses the soldiers, heroes, and volunteers assembled in the fields outside of Volaire town proper. His armor, reminiscent of his days in service as a Knight, glistens in the fading evening light. In his hand he holds a large broadsword with the word “VUVYU” engraved into its blade. The sword crackles with dark grey lightning as it sits perched upon Wolfrum’s pauldron.

“I have seen battles aside many of you here; many others are newer faces. But regardless of what path through the Web of Planes brought you here this day, one thing binds us. One thing forges the lot of us into one formidable, unwavering, powerful force. That thing is that every one of us is willing to lay down our lives—our very existences—to ensure the safety and sanctity of the lands that we and our loved ones call home.”

He halts his pacing and turns to face the gathered mass,
“Know this, in the history of the Ariadnian Empire, never has an enemy darkened our doorway who has not ultimately fallen to their knees under the shadow cast by our collective might. Never in the history of the Planes themselves has this land known a defeat from which it has not risen from the ashes and claimed victory over its oppressors. Never in history have we faltered nor failed in our pursuit of greatness, and neither will today be that day!”

On his final word, the Dragon King lifts his sword over his head where it is struck by a bolt of lightning which is closely followed by a deep boom of thunder that sweeps over the field, displacing air and causing flags and banners to billow and wave.

As the crowd erupts into a roar of cheers and weapons clanging against shields, he turns and walks back into the small group of leaders, brushing Commander Selena with his elbow as he passes. With a wink and a smirk, he whispers to her “Beat that.”

Selena rolls her eyes and steps forward, holding up her hand to signal silence. As a hush falls over the assembly, the Commander sighs and draws her sword, “Yeah, what he said. Alright, let’s do this.”

On the Commander’s signal, numerous portals begin to open as groups break off into their assigned units. Prince Kalil steps in front of a portal and turns to face his squad. “Okay, First Wave, on me! Let’s make some noise!” A grin teases his face briefly as he spins around to face the portal. He glances over his shoulder to his partner, Connor, who smiles warmly at him and nods. Balling both of his hands into fists, Kalil lets out a yell that shifts into a deep roar as large scaled wings unfold from his back. Flames erupt from around him and engulf his wings as he dives forward and disappears through the portal, followed immediately by Connor and closely behind by a sizable horde of soldiers.
- - -
Guildmaster Edgewood of the Mage’s Guild sweeps his arm as he calls out to guild members and Draconian scholars accompanying him, “Everyone, take your positions. Drop your circles immediately and begin casting. We need as much energy flowing in this area as possible. Guardians, defend the casters!”

The area begins to hum with magical energy as countless circles form and the ritual casters begin chanting. Great Elemental Guardians fall into place, standing sentinel at each of the circles and glaring menacingly as waves of undead begin their onslaught.

Ser Dorian Greyshield stands facing the oncoming horde, sword at the ready. The wave parts as a Death Knight hurdles its way toward the waiting Knightmaster. The sound of steel against steel echoes through the graveyard as they both test each other's defenses, searching for an opening. The first to strike is the Death Knight, lunging forward with a swift downward strike. Dorian, anticipating the move, sidesteps and counters with a horizontal slash. Sparks fly as the two swords clash, and the Death Knight jumps back to regain its balance.

Dorian presses the attack, his sword a blur as he launches a flurry of strikes. The Death knight holds its ground, parrying each blow and searching for an opportunity to counter. As Dorian’s tempo slows, the Death Knight seizes the chance to strike. It feints a low thrust, drawing Dorian's guard down, then quickly changes direction and goes for a high overhead chop.

With lightning-fast reflexes, Dorian brings his sword up to block, then follows through with a swift riposte that catches the Death Knight off guard. The tip of Dorian’s sword penetrates the space between the Death Knight’s armor, making a squelching sound as he thrusts the blade deeper. The Death Knight lets out a raspy groan and then falls over, its body crumbling to ash before it hits the ground.

Ser Dorian forcefully exhales through his lips before turning to rejoin the others fighting, “I am definitely getting too old for this shit…”
- - -
Sofira, Ivan, and Zinna take their position in a remote area of the graveyard, reasonably away from the fighting. Zinna lays an object wrapped in black cloth on the ground as Ivan prepares the ritual space.
“Remember, don’t look at ze mirror until after. Zis vas not easy to make in ze dark. But ze frame iz pretty!”

Without a word, Ivan nods and takes a seat in the center of the inscribed circle. He withdraws a gold coin from his pocket and flips it onto the ground. As it hits the soft dirt, it rings softly and a translucent golden barrier erupts from it and fills the circle drawn on the ground. Sofira sits in front of her Elven husband and takes his hands. They both close their eyes and begin chanting in unison. Zinna looks at them and then to the inside of the barrier. “But I’m still in ze… mmmhmph…” She pouts as she sits and watches the casters work.
- - -
Baroness Eclipse Lynndrae places a half-eaten apricot on the ground in front of the wall to the grand mausoleum. “That’s for luck. Okay, almost ready.” She carefully steps over the piece of fruit and spins around three times, twirling her shirt and petticoat. She then steps back over the apricot and spins again, this time in the opposite direction. “There, now the Gobbledygooks and the Shreladingdings won’t interrupt my casting. One can never be too careful…”

Lady Katalina resists the urge to roll her eyes at the antics she’s witnessing, having somewhat gotten used to the Baroness’s newfound demeanor. Her face remains neutral and expressionless as she helps Eclipse gather ritual components from their respective pouches and boxes, laying them out so that they are easily accessible during the ritual.

Eclipse drops to the ground, sitting upon her knees and facing the grey stone wall.
“Okay, mister wardy wardy. Time for you to go away.”

With that, she begins casting as soldiers form several protective semi-circles around her.
Overhead, a large, winged form crosses the sky, casting a dominating shadow across the battle-scorned field. As the figure descends upon the battlefield, its massive wings beat the air, sending gales in every direction as it swoops down to join the fight.

With a fierce snarl, the dragon transforms in midair, its body contorting and shrinking as it takes on a new form. In the blink of an eye, the dragon becomes the familiar form of Jedash, wielding a sword and shield as he plunges into the fray.

The enemy army of undead and followers of The Faceless One recoil in fear as the dragon-warrior charges forward, his sword flashing with an unearthly light. With each strike, another enemy falls, and the dragon's wrath is a sight to behold.

As the battle rages on, Jedash fights with a ferocity that none can match. His sword slices through armor and shields as if they were made of paper, and his roar shakes the very foundations of the ground below. Emboldened by Jedash’s display, the allied forces charge the enemy with renewed vigor, keeping the area clear of threats while the Baroness chants softly in her circle.
- - -
As the first of the undead reach them, Blodwulf lets out a battle cry and charges forward, his sword swinging in a wide arc. His strikes are relentless, his determination unbreakable. Even as the creatures of death come at him from all sides, he stands his ground, his sword always finding its mark. Astra follows close behind, her sword glowing with energy as she unleashes a barrage of spells. The undead fall before them, their bodies splitting and splintering under the force of their attacks. Miquella and Mendacium work in tandem, their spells weaving together in a deadly dance. A barrage of energy flies from their hands, accompanied by the occasional vial of alchemical concoctions, burning and blasting their foes. The undead stumble and fall, their bodies writhing as they try to fight back.

Above one of the larger mausoleum buildings, a thick black smoke manifests, swirling in upon itself violently. As quickly as it appeared, the smoke vanishes, leaving behind Valyrie standing upon the roof of the building looking out upon the battlefield. She raises an arm toward the sky and then, clenching her hand into a tight fist, sweeps it downward toward the ground.

“Activate, Etheric Condemnation!”

Thunder crashes as a massive ball of dark energy erupts from the clouds and comes crashing down upon the battlefield, exploding upon impact with the ground and shattering into several smaller energy balls that fire off into different directions, striking enemy undead.
- - -
Zachery and Harrold stand back-to-back, their blades at the ready as the enemy horde close in around them. The air is filled with the sounds of clashing steel and battle cries as the two boys stand at the ready. Harold calls over his shoulder to his comrade as bright white magical energy envelops his off-hand while his grip tightens around his sword in his other. “Hey, are you ready?”
Zachery giggles in response, “Are they?”
With a fierce shout, Harrold charges forward, his sword a blur as he slashes and parries his way through the enemy ranks. Zachery trails right behind him, his sword dripping with a viscous green liquid as he strikes down his foes with deadly precision.
The enemy forces are no match for the two friends. With each passing moment, the tide of battle shifts in the boys' favor, and the enemy ranks begin to thin. Their swords work in perfect harmony as they fight to keep their foes at bay. Their movements are fluid and graceful, each strike a deadly symphony of steel and skill.
After delivering a killing blow to a fallen Greater Undead, Zachery looks up in time to see a rift open just behind Harrold. He shouts as he quickly withdraws a glass vial from his pouch. “Behind you!” Harrold reacts much more quickly than the eye can see and dives into a roll as the vial flies over him and connects with a face as it emerges from the rift. The creature snarls as slivers of broken glass and acid drip from its glowing purple eye. The creature stands at well over twenty feet tall and is humanoid in shape but appears to be comprised of swirling dark energy.
Harrold springs up from his roll and spins around to examine the new aggressor. His eyes widen and he turns to Zachery, “Wait, that’s a Void Walker!”
“On it!” Zachery shouts gleefully as he charges the creature.
“Zachery, wait! Zachery! NO!”
Harrold rushes forward, raising his sword and pulling a hidden, black-bladed dagger from his waist, but only makes it a couple of steps before the Void Walker’s arm seems to dissolve into itself and reform in the shape of a lance, piercing Zachery’s chest and lifting him off his feet to be suspended in air. Zachery coughs, a thin trail of crimson streaking from the corner of his mouth. His eyes flash a bright blue glow then dim as his body slumps and desiccates before being tossed to the ground.
With a desperate scream, Harrold leaps at the creature, vanishing from sight as a massive arm swings down upon him, and reappearing behind the Void Walker as he drives the black blade into its back between the shoulders. The lumbering creature shrieks and then crumples to the ground, allowing Harrold to fall free of it. He crawls quickly across the ground to Zachery and scoops him up, shaking him violently, “No! No, no, no, no, no! Wake up! You’ve got to wake up… you always wake up!”
Harold stands, lifting Zachery’s motionless body onto his back. With a grunt, he takes a step forward and vanishes with an audible pop, leaving behind no traces other than the corpses littering the ground.
- - -
The battle continues for several hours, the lives of many spared only thanks to Rachelle and Miquella’s restorative magics as they work to ease the suffering of the fallen. The living and the dead are being gathered together, the former to be cared for and the latter to be given a proper burial. The air is thick with the smell of blood and smoke, and the sounds of death echo in the silence. The wounded and dying lay scattered across the battlefield, their cries of pain and agony an evocative reminder of the horrors of war. Those who can move do so slowly and painfully, limping and crawling their way towards safety. Those who cannot lay where they have fallen, their eyes staring blankly at the sky above.
Ser Dorian walks among the dead and dying, his expression grim as he takes stock of the carnage. His armor is battered and stained with blood, and his eyes are mournful and haunted by the horrors he has seen.
Lady Jade takes several calming breaths while leaning on her spear for support, her extremities tingling from the exhaustive expenditure of every bit of magical potential in her body. Her blouse ruffles momentarily as Charles, her loyal undead squirrel familiar, scurries out to rest on her shoulder. Sensing his master’s fatigue, he holds up a partially chewed finger bone as an offering, scavenged from the buffet of a battlefield at some point. Jade’s lips lift into a tired smile at her companion as she strokes his rough fur and makes her way to where Selena and the others have gathered.
- - -
The Heroes are standing in a defensive circle around an ornate mirror. The frame of the mirror is a gorgeous gold, glinting in the moonlight, and adorned with countless gems and intricate engravings. The glass of the mirror shows not a reflection but a deep grey fog and the almost motionless image of The Faceless One, standing with her arms crossed defiantly.
A rift opens next to the group and Wolfrum emerges, his clothing torn and his face smudged with dirt and soot. Without a word, he walks over to the mirror and carefully lifts it with both hands. He nods his head to Selena and then carries the mirror back through the rift which closes behind him.
As those gathered continue to talk amongst themselves, a portal opens a few paces from the group and Kalil jumps out, laughing jovially as he hops from foot to foot, thrusting his sword in front of him.
“Did you see that, Connor? They were all around us and they were like woosh and then I was like blam and they were like voof and I was like kapow!”
Connor steps out of the portal behind his fiancé, dragging his feet and wobbling with each step. Although he doesn’t appear to be physically injured, his face is long and his eyes bloodshot and focused on the ground in front of him. He stops after taking a couple of steps from the portal and reaches a hand out to Kalil, “I’m just… I’m gonna… just for a moment…” Connor collapses, fast asleep as he crumples where he stands. Turning at Connor’s voice, Kalil quickly tosses his sword to the side and dives toward Connor, catching him and pulling him close against his body before he hits the ground.
As the allied forces begin to depart the area, some by portal and others by foot, Valyrie stands leaning against the wall of the mausoleum, looking around at her new domain with a slight smile upon her lips.
Everything seems to have worked out as planned. There were few casualties, The Faceless One is secured and on her way to confinement alongside her sister, and the Cemetery of Lost Souls has a new Matriarch… however, it would seem that not everyone makes it back to town. With the upcoming Gathering of Heroes, rumors begin to spread about who is missing and where she went after leaving the graveyard…