On Death and Locals

The display of power Lucy witnessed was beyond what she had expected. The evil necromancer alone sent as many magical projectiles in this fight alone than she has seen during her entire life. She tried to imagine what it would be like to fight such a magic user one one one would be like and how immensely outclassed anyone would be in this situation, but the companion of the abominable wizard, the barbarian showed just as much raw strength and agility. They were rivals on par with each other, impossible to defeat on their own, and outright unstoppable when they were together, no doubt. The young druid has made the decision to pay close attention to the fight in the hopes of learning a possible tactic or finding a wedge that could aid in their defeat.

Lucy watched the battle closely, trying to rid the thoughts of her friend’s undead corpse from her mind, and she did it so valiantly that too late did she notice Grognark watching her. When she did see that the former barbarian paid more attention to her than the fight, her heart skipped a beat, and in desperation she hid behind the tree. Her life flashed before her eyes, pulling her deeper into the state of fear, where she knew she was doomed and about to be killed. But then the shrill voice of the wizard snapped her out of the stupor: “YOU FILTHY MINIONS! DON’T JUST STAND THERE AND ATTACK THIS CRETIN!”

Lucy ran. She ran like she never ran before, her feet avoiding every misplaced branch, root, and stone, her heart racing, mind as clear as ever, she could see everything in front as if it was day. When she stopped and did not hear anyone chasing after her, Lucy let herself rest. She could not believe she was still alive. She could not believe that she let herself run once again. It was cowardly, she told herself, to run away from the evil that has ruined her life, not to try something to defeat and destroy it once and for all, so that peace would prosper in this world, so that the young and old would not live in fear, so that the dead would stay undisturbed. And yet every time she thought of going back there, where the two villains were fighting amongst each other, she could not bring herself to take a single step in that direction, it was completely impossible.

Lucy stood there deep in thought and self loathing. She hated herself for the display of cowardness, but her rationale told her that she did the right thing. The young druid felt that her mind was lying to her, that she should have done something. But she did not. But she might.

Lucy’s thoughts started their spiral with self hatred, but with every revolution more and more ideas filled her head with hope and determination. After the first revolution she realized that just because she did not do anything back there, did not mean she could not do something else ahead. After the second, she realized that her village was not as defenseless as it felt to her. Third, she understood that she could prepare the village for attack, even if she were not to be discovered. Fourth, it was clear that she had more time than she thought she had, as those horrible villains would need to take time and lick their wounds. Fifth and final thought brought her joy and cheer: she could prepare traps along the path to hinder these fiends’ progress towards her home. Her former home, she reminded herself. Lucy refused to be discouraged by that. Just because she did not live there now or even show herself to anyone, did not mean that they were not worth her protection.

Her thoughts clear, and her heart racing with excitement of bringing justice to the evil in the world, the young druid started planning. She kept close to the dirt path, where she saw the fight take place and used what tricks she knew to create obstacles for the villains to overcome. Lucy knew that these traps were nothing out of the ordinary, a tree to fall here, a disguised hole there, some poison ivy bushes that would irritate the skin and mind, but her main goal was not to stop the duo, as she knew it would be impossible, but to give herself more time to secretly commune with her village. She knew that showing herself to the villagers would unquestionably bring down the wrath of Leshii upon herself and the village, but there were ways of passing messages to and fro without being seen. The thoughts of how to do such a simple yet difficult task has dominated Lucy’s mind ever since she took it upon herself to defend the village.

The young druid spent the two travel days continuing to set up traps and heading towards her village, and by the end of her journey she had several ideas on how to tell the villagers about the imminent attack. But first, she wanted and needed to see what has happened of her village in the past fortnight and a bit more. She was nervous, excited, and was silently grieving the loss of her previous life. She was especially curious what had happened to the elder Wallace, as she was with him that fateful day, when her life changed so suddenly.

The very thought of the elder, in turn, brought the unpleasant memory of Grognark standing there, right next to the ongoing fight between the two villains. She could not get his image out from her head. His skin dark with rot and decay was just as big as it was in his life, but there was nothing that was left of him, she knew. His disinterested eyes, red with undead magic, pierced through her very soul to dug deep burrows with its evil claws, so that it could grab her in its embrace and never truly leave her alone. The large scar all around his waist, crudely fixed with giant rusty staples and thick stitches, still red on the edges with dried up blood. Every time Lucy thought of him, she shuttered with distraught. Before the day the barbarian was killed, the young druid never even thought that she would someday see someone she knew as nothing more, but a walking corpse. She thanked the Goddess of luck that she would never have to see what was made of her family. It was already unbearable enough to have been left alone, brought up, and thrown back into the pits of despair in so little time, she thought she would simply collapse in on herself, if any other horrors would once again bestow upon her.

Whether it was divine or hellish interference, or even if it all was a coincidence did not matter one bit. Lucy was focused on passing the message of the incoming attack of the villains to the villagers and nothing else. Thankfully, she already had a plan, and when the village walls were in sight, it went into action.

While Lucy’s world has changed drastically in the past fortnight, the village has seen no major differences. Not even a month has passed when the young lady of the diseased Melnik family has left home to never be seen again. It was a tragedy, surely, but not one big enough to fill the minds full of grief completely. However, the general mood of the villagers was more upbeat than before, as the regular monthly raid of the undead which was supposed to take place less than a week ago, was nowhere to be seen or heard. When no people were found missing or dead in the streets, some of the citizens allowed themselves to become carefully optimistic. A rumor, that started with the young lady’s departure with the pair of adventurers towards the powerful evil, has spread even more after the skipped evening of attack. Some told each other that the heroes destroyed the necromancer and must have tragically died in the process. Others said that the trio has decided to continue their adventures elsewhere.

Not all were as optimistic. Most still were weary of future attacks and carefully walked the streets prepared to run at any sign of danger. Most weary of all was Wallace. Ever since Lucy has run away with the barbarian and the wizard, he could barely sleep at all. Every day he thought of how he failed to stop that ignorant kid from ruining and probably ending her life. The elder has taken more precautions to not let anyone else get killed or even leave the village unattended. Many men who already were afraid of possible attacks have agreed with the elder and personally took arms for precaution. Evidenced by the arrival of those two adventurers, Wallace realized that they were not as lonely in it as he thought. So, a small group of scouts were sent to the far off capital of Rukh to try and garner as many battle ready men as possible and tell the king of the horrors that were happening deep in his land’s forest.

Wallace was outside this day closely watching over his villagers, the people he was personally responsible for, catching those slacking, and praising those working. The kids who so carelessly played in his garden now avoided him at all costs, as they did not like that their older friend had turned into an old grumpy man. Wallace was disappointed in them. Yes, he did like them playing in front of his house before, but now the village was at a great risk, and no longer did he have the patience for silly games that took away precious time from training and work. He knew that the only way their home would survive was to have everyone to be prepared for the next necromancer attack, and the kids, especially the young kids needed to train the most. They must be prepared to help the adults at all costs or, if not help, run, so they would not be a hindrance. That meant even more work and even more preparations as any adult would have, which the kids did not want to do.

Wallace began his usual routine. He went over the streets observing the training and labour of the village people. He went to the village wall, looking for any breaches or holes. He went to the village gates to make sure the two volunteers stood guard. This is when he noticed that one of the men was nervously looking around. Getting closer, the guard rushed over to Wallace and after a short greeting told him about what he saw. Wallace stood quiet for a moment, and asked the man: “Are you sure?”

“Yes, elder Wallace. That’s what I saw. I’ll show it to you myself, just follow me”.

Wallace did so. When they were finally outside the village walls, what he saw surprised him to the core. In the middle of a road was a message written in sticks and leaves. It was short and to the point: “NECRO BARB ZOMB SKEL SOON”. It was clearly a message for the village, a warning of an incoming attack.

“Did you see who it was, Alex?”

“No, elder Wallace. It was there when I first took the shift, and Petro did not mention it at all”. After a short pause the guard continued: “Do you… Do you think it could have been a Leshii?”

Wallace’s attention was fully focused on the message. He then replied in a monotone: “It could be, Alex. I believe that we might be receiving the gods’ favour through its hands. But nevermind that. Men!” the elder called. “Get ready! Take your bows, take your spears, take all that you can throw at the enemy! We have confirmation that they are coming, and they are ready to fight! So we shall give them a proper fight!”