early struggles
“This can’t be good” Sherbert chattered observing the Party of Adventurers that had entered the cavern. “The Prophecy must be wrong…” the Dwarf gasped and looked at his Leader, a Human armored in thick studded leather. “How can that be, it’s just a..” the Man started and Sherbert exclaimed: “Skeleton!” before quickly pressing his fingers over his mouth.
Dumbfounded the Adventurers looked at him and then at each other. The Skeleton saw a male Elven Archer trying to flank him and a female Half-Orc Barbarian guarding their Rear. He knew the only way out was through one of those two. Assault wasn’t an Option. He tried to find a gesture that looked appeasing and asked: “I can’t convince you that this has been a misunderstanding?”
At another place in the Realm, a Necromancer paced around his Phylactery. “Where is he?” he worried and didn’t quite know what to do with himself. Groaning sickly he decided: “Alright, I give him 10 more Minutes. Then I’m checking where he is. No one will think I was worried about him. I just happen to be at the very Location he was last seen. A complete Coincidence! Yes!”
“I canne believe this!” the Dwarf proclaimed in a perfect Scottish accent and turned to his Companions while pointing at the Skeleton: “Me mum would bash me own head in for even trying to speak to the Undead. But bargaining? Are ye mad!” The Human nodded and explained: “Yes but you saw that thing kill all our guys and then his own. Maybe we should give it a listen? I don’t see your mum around here at the moment, if that helps.” Far behind them the Welsh Voice of the Elf volunteered: “A word from you and I pierce its Skull with one of my arrows.” Sherbert hadn’t any facial expressions to show his desperation but said: “Could you, maybe, not? I’m sure we can work something out here!”
“Alright. Talk, Skeleton!” the Leader demanded. “Ok, well. You guys could just leave? Westerhalvia I mean. We are quite content with keeping to our self?” Sherbert tried. The half-orc snorted disgusted and stated: “You are a plight on this world. A source of evil!” That wasn’t far off the truth but this wasn’t the time for discussions about ethics, instead he accused them: “Well, you came to us and started killing Knaxses People. He hasn’t even been outside the Border for 60 years! Those Orcs where maybe a hand-full of young males but otherwise nothing else beside mothers with their children! You wouldn’t slaughter them if they had your skin color!”
The Human and Dwarf looked at each other. “You know, he has a point.” the Human said concerned but the Dwarf growled: “Don’t make me bash yer head in, in me mothers stead! I love ye like me own clann but I swear to Ulfgot Stormfist, I’ll do it!”
Sherbert wasn’t sure about the group dynamics between interracial hero parties, but he didn’t want to lose his momentum. Thinking fast he added: “You guys don’t look for a new employer perhaps? You take coin, yes?” The elf said some choice words and finished with: “Don’t listen to him, Ulrigard! Money isn’t worth your Soul!” But the Skeleton didn’t stop and offered: “My Master is quite different from what they say. He hasn’t got much use for his Hoard. There are enough things you could do for us that do not involve your usual Raping, Pillaging and Plunder!”
The Necromancer dismounted unsteadily from his pale steed. Putting his hands on his knees he tried to calm down. “Oh God. And I have to do this again to get home. The things I do for my People.” he whispered while hiding his indisposition by miming getting rid of dust from his robes. After he was sure that no one was watching he turned around to search for clues.
He mumbled to himself: “If I were a Skeleton Servant running into Adventurers, where would I be?” He looked at the giant black maw of a dungeon entry right beside him and shouted: “Aha! A secret entry!” After having thus masterfully fooled everyone, he ran in as fast as his clothes allowed. “Alright. This should do it!” Sherbert chattered quite relieved. The Dwarf was seething with Rage: “I canne believe I’m doing this!” The Barbarian Dame looked at her new Armor and commented: “Wearing full leather armor, what a novel concept. The white skull is a nice detail.” Sherbert grinned as usual and nodded satisfied.
As the Necromancer stepped into the Cavern he didn’t want to trust the glowing balls of energy formerly known as his eyes. “SHERBERT!” he hissed pointing at the Bodies and Adventuring Group. “What have you done!” was the unspoken Question.
“MASTER!” Sherbert happily replied and bowed before him, then added: “Let me present to you: Your very own Adventuring Party, Master!” While the Group bowed the Dwarf huffed: “Oh ney! I’m not bowing before no stinking Necromancer! No!”
As they prepared to leave, the Necromancer wondered: “I don’t even want to know what you promised them. But look at all those fine new additions to the skeleton army!” He did not notice his Servant slowly inching towards the Exit.
“About that, Master. I kinda. Agreed to. Let Them. Bury them.” he said and ran for it. Sprinting past his Masters Mount he was heard repeating: “Better to ask for forgiveness than for permission. Better to ask for forgiveness than for permission”
This story is a continuation of a nation attacked
This was a response to a Writing Prompt: [WP] “This cannot be true.” You mutter, staring at the corpses of the legendary company of heroes, all slain by a single Fiend. They were the ones destined to turn the tide, and yet they lie here, slain by a creature you and your friends have killed hundreds of. “The Prophecy must be wrong…”