The First Lich Lord

“On the side of the players, we have the teams of Windsong, the Ardent Flame, and Captain Larry and his Douche Canoe,” Daka’s voice echoed across the arena. Joining Ezra’s team, the Ardent Flame, was Maribel, a cleric normally on Livia’s team, that brought their number up to sixteen players. “As you know, the rewards for this fight are great and many of these participants have elected to not only risk their lives but their gear to increase the quality of the rewards if they prevail.”

Looking across the sand separating our two groups, I had my suspicion about who was risking what. There were wary looks between Windsong and the Ardent Flame teams. Aaron knew me about as well as anyone outside of my sister and friends, and he suspected this would not be a repeat of the previous fight. On the other hand, Larry’s team was already taunting us.

“Facing them is the team known as the Damned Companions, led by Ezekiel the lich,” Daka’s voice rang out. “Fighting along with them is the Terhaim, Ezekiel’s loyal guardians.”

“Since when are we called the Damned Companions?” I asked Maxwell. “What, did they get the name from somebody we beat up? And when did the thirteen become the Terhaim?”

“Not that kind of damned, like damned to hell,” Maxwell explained. “We are the Damned Companions because we’re all damned. And just the Thirteen was stupid, the Terhaim is far better.”

“I’m not certain we’re all damned,” I protested.

“We might not be,” Maxwell was exasperated. “But it’s a good name, just leave it alone.” He glared at me.

The argument caused me to miss the final parts of the announcement, and a crack in the air signaled for the teams to prepare. “Would you to stop,” Raven snapped. “This is not the time for arguments, this is the time for killing.”

I fell into my position in the formation. I was letting Abimelech organize it, even if she was inexperienced. This was the only way she would gain that experience. If there was anything that was too big of a weakness, I would step in. But so far, her natural talents at small unit battlefield tactics seemed innate and good.

Our two tanks, Shamgar and Gideon, were of course on the front line, but in between and slightly back stood Abimelech. Spreading out on one side was Abdon and on the other was Samson, their skill sets would secure those sections while enabling them to still strike deep without compromising the formation. On the flanks were Ehud and De’Barak, whose skill sets relied on high mobility and securing the flanks would give them the most freedom.

Behind the front line, Jepthen moved in the space between the casters and E’lon along with Raven. They would dart in and take advantage of places where they could. In front of me and spread out to support the flanks were Tola and Izban, the two necromancers. On either side of me was Othniel and Jair, the eldritch wizard and death mage respectively. I was intentionally positioned between them because my power would be the least affected by influence from the other magics.

E’lon stood to the side where she could have a clean longer-range view of the fight. If pressed, she could fall back into the defensive formation. Maxwell was positioned behind the casters as well, not needing a clear line of sight for his abilities to work. “Lose my solo skills,” I heard Maxwell scoff. “I’ll show you losing skills.”

A rhythmic drum line played out across the arena in four-count. “Can you feel that?” Maxwell’s voice took on a gruff tone.

I glanced back as electric guitar riffs started to come from the floating sound node, as Maxwell broke into “Down with the Sickness” from Disturbed.

The music was loud, but in my opinion never loud enough. I even saw the players bobbing to it. Just as Maxwell did a great job imitating David Draiman’s “Oh-ah-ah!” the arena exploded into combat as magical explosions ripped apart the air.

The fight was chaotic. Since I was relying on Abimelech to manage the fight, I focused on my role which was magical combat. We started off defensive. In the previous fight the players had overwhelmed the Terhaim’s casters in the opening minutes. That was quite different this time. Their barrage of attacks broke on our defenses like waves on rocks.

Even though we were facing more casters than in the previous fight, the Terhaim had several more advantages. One was that I was fighting with them, which gave them an additional power boost, the other was Maxwell. Since the vast majority of the Terhaim use some magic energy in some ways, he elected to use a song that amplified magical potency. And most importantly, Abimelech was keeping the Terhaim together and working to support each other.

Necromancers had more offensive abilities and buffing abilities to augment the minions they created, as opposed to clerics who primarily focused on raw defensive power. That being said, the barriers and defenses being erected by my two necromancers were turning aside almost everything the players were throwing at them. What made it through was caught and destroyed by the death mage.

Where the players had an advantage, was in ranged non-magical firepower. The first volley of arrows and bolts penetrated the defensive barriers with ease. Before either of the necromancers, Tola and Izban, could adjust the defenses, Othniel spoke. His voice was firm and reflected what I thought the eldritch energy would sound like if it spoke. “Let the arrows fall through and keep the powerful regeneration up. E’lon, Jepthen, your targets are silencing their non-magical ranged abilities.”

There was no argument as everyone acknowledged his orders. I understood his reasoning. Letting the arrows through allowed the necromancers to focus on more powerful defenses. The trade-off was that the arrows that penetrated could possess powerful magical effects, but most of them did not have such effects.. But the regeneration of the necromancers was strong, ensuring that our overall casting abilities would be harder to interrupt than a normal groups.

As the front lines clashed, I noticed a pattern. The two teams within Livia’s guild worked together. Their magical barrages were coordinated, and their front line supported each other. It was clear they were trying to work with Larry’s team, but there was a disconnect. I didn’t have time to analyze it, I just hoped Abimelech would see it.

“Shall we coordinate our attacks, lord?” Othniel addressed me.

“Of course, you take the lead, I will support you.” My initial spell had been defensive, but as I saw the necromancers holding their own, I had been studying the battlefield to determine what my best next course of action would be.

Othniel bowed, then used his staff to build a large spell. A ball of intertwined ribbons of eldritch power speedily formed before him. Examining the spell, I comprehended its nature and contributed my share.

Purple eldritch power flowed from the end of Mercy into the growing spell as

Othniel channeled in the same. While our powers were identical and meshed perfectly, no eldritch power is ever completely identical to another. But we were close enough that it didn’t really matter.

Abimelech disengaged from the front line and shouted an order to the right flank, “De’Barak push forward if you can, we can break their formation.” When she saw the spell we were working on, she continued. “Othniel, use that spell to break support on that side, if we can weaken the larger group this will go much easier.” Her attention snapped to Raven who had been supporting that flank. “Raven, make sure those defenses are down.”

Raven’s tail flicked in irritation. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ll bring it down,” she grumbled back. One thing Raven did not like was being told what to do.

I lost track of Raven, my attention focusing on the spell we were building. When my attention returned to our target, one of the clerics staggered as Raven emerged from his shadow. The channeled barrier the clerk had been powering faltered and failed.

Raven had targeted Marcus, the pretentious priest that had heckled me so long ago. He wasn’t as big a dick as he had been, but Raven still didn’t like him. The wizard on Larry’s team had seen Raven diving out of the shadow and struck out with a spell that tore apart the ground. Raven could not get out of the blast radius in time and was sent flying. But his attack not only caught Raven, it also engulfed Marcus and the other cleric, Marable, preventing her from restoring the magic.

The tumbling ball of eldritch power arched over the front lines and passed through the gap in the defenses. I wasn’t worried about Raven, she would be fine. That certainly wasn’t enough to take her out of the fight. The purple eldritch power landed between Marcus and Maribel. The daggers in Marcus’ back had already been removed, but the chaotic destructive energy that ripped apart the area was more than he could handle.

Eldritch power tore him apart as it consumed both him and Maribel. When a vortex-like explosion faded, Maribel was still standing, though barely, while Marcus was a broken body coursing with purple eldritch power. Before magic could reach Maribel to heal her, either from herself or the other cleric on Larry’s team, if he had even seen her plight, an arrow erupted through Maribel’s head in an explosion of black death magic.

In that one combined attack, we had taken out two thirds of their healers. Ezra was a paladin and had some healing abilities, but nothing quite like the defensive powers or healing magic of the two clerics we’d taken out.

As magical defenses failed on that flank of the players, I heard Ezra shouting orders to her fire wizard and mage to fill the gap. Unfortunately for them, fire was not a very powerful defensive magic.

I did not give them the opportunity to put that to the test though. Even before the eldritch artillery spell landed, I had already been casting another. My power over death magic was immense. Crackly black lightning sprang from my hands as I hammered the melee fighters. Though the death lightning wouldn’t harm my allies, that was far from true for the players. I smiled inwardly, Ezra’s team were all planning on being turned into living dead before I left, and I bet they were wishing that had already happened.

The change in the tempo of the magic battle allowed the necromancers to refocus. Their defensive barriers were not as powerful as the clerics, but they did their jobs. Regeneration made the difference. Now they could focus on their true specialty. Complex weaves of magic reached out from both necromancers.

Magic poured into both of the dead clerics. It didn’t take long for them to stir to life. A brief glance at the description of the zombies created told me a lot.

Profaned Zombie

Level: 90

Profaned zombies are created from the corpses of fallen holy servants of sufficient power. They are near immune to holy magic aligned with their former god and are resistant to holy magic from similarly aligned deities.

I took a moment to survey the battle. We were undeniably winning, but had not been without cost. Nick and Jessica, the rangers on Aaron’s team, had brought down Tola, the death mage. Neither my necromancers had a chance to try and bring her back. Samson was pressed hard, his lack of defensive equipment making him ill suited for line combat.

Shamgar was looking rough. Though he was one of our tanks, he lacked the armor and defense that Gideon had. I was about to do something to help the beleaguered runic tank when he did something unexpected. He slammed his hammer onto his shield, unleashing an explosion of eldritch power. The power did not damage anyone directly, but runes glowed with eldritch light on Ezra and Tucker, the two people engaged with him.

All over their body’s, runic circles sprang to life. The two fighters recoiled as the runes began to emit streams of wispy energy that fed into Shamgar’s shield. Before my eyes I saw his body healing with flashes of eldritch power. I would have to study whatever that rune was he had placed on them; eldritch power normally didn’t heal. The effect was fading, and the roles had flipped. Shamgar looked in top shape while Ezra, and Tucker even more so, appeared beleaguered.

The two zombies were pressing the fire mage, who had switched from assisting the wizard to protecting the wizard. Othniel and one necromancer were further adding to the wizard’s struggle with a constant barrage of attacks. The arcane sniper and ranged skirmisher were being far more active, spreading out and attempting to flank the players on that side now that the defensive power supporting them from the rear was gone. I shifted my attention to supporting a necromancer engaged with Larry’s team.

The players sensed the change in momentum. Immediately, their tactics shifted. They began falling back to form up a defensive barrier around the remaining cleric. Ezra fell back to support role, her limited healing powers urgently needed. But before they could solidify a new position, Raven struck again. They had forgotten about her, and she abruptly appeared in their midst. Black sickles left behind horrendous wounds as she ripped open the bellies of the fire wizard and their remaining cleric.

The sickles were new weapons Raven had gotten from Kellnock. She liked the effectiveness of the split form of Mercy and wanted something of her own. Kellnock had obliged. They’d quickly become a favorite weapon for her. They did not leave behind effects like my weapon when they ripped wounds open they were instead deeper and more ragged. She said she likes them because they were more akin to her claws.

A stream of black magical death arrows from Jepthen stitched up the cleric’s back. He had flanked around behind. The position left him exposed, but taking out the cleric had been worth it.

The cleric crashed to the ground, and a moment later Aaron followed, taken out by a blast of eldritch lightning after being weakened by Ehud’s curses and hexes.

Ezra signaled she wanted to surrender.

I almost let her, but then Abdon fell as Larry buried his ax in the battle mages head. It wasn’t that Abdon had fallen, he technically was still alive, now protected under a barrier from Kellnock. It was that it reminded me Larry existed.

I caught Ezra’s eyes for a second, glanced to Larry’s team and shook my head. A resigned look came over her demeanor as the battle turned into slaughter.

Abimelech drove the fight forward. Only when a hole was blowing through Larry’s neck by Abimelech did I indicate to her to accept their surrender. He’d been the last of his team to die, which meant that only Ezra from her team and Jessica from Aaron’s team survived.

“We accept your surrender,” my voice boomed over the arena. We had lost one more of the Terhaim. Jepthen had been too far out of position and gotten caught.

Raven’s head snapped towards me. I had called out the acceptance of the surrender right as she was about to eviscerate Jessica who’d been rapidly falling back from the werecat. “Really?” Raven demanded. “You could have given me another moment.” She holstered her sickles behind her back.

Jessica let out a nervous laugh. “You know, you’re a lot less cute when you’re all killy-killy.” It always amazed me how quickly players could go from life and death to jokes.

“I’m always cute,” Raven sniffed, still annoyed.

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