Part 11: Chapter 5.3: Even Worse Tidings

Gosh darn it, folks, I have to finish this LP before they release Warlock 2, so I could be ready with a follow up once the three month term passes!

For those who haven't seen it yet, here's a single player preview: http://www.twitch.tv/paradoxinteractive/c/3637108

On the other hand, my computer started crapping out even further the past days, so the future of this LP is quite uncertain. I still have a few more images for an update, tho!

Chapter 5.3: Even Worse Tidings

Mysterious flaming fireballs or no mysterious flaming fireballs, King Lich V had a realm to rule and the only way to strengthen his hold was to expand. And that required scouting, for losing settlers to random monsters was never a fun occurrence.

And if there ever was an expendable scouting asset, summonable imps fit that role perfectly.



Too bad they got summoned near an ogre hideout. Well, King Lich V marked their location on map (even though it's hard to scribble down notes while half of your mind is engaged in keeping demons on a leash). Still, wanting to get most bang for mana, he decided against sending the imps to their certain deaths and turned them towards more prosperous and probably less dangerous lands.



Galarcarn was an elven city that monsters had taken over a while ago. Since it was now neutral, all grand mages considered the city to be free for all to take – after all, one can't really care about claims of „freethinking“ or „anarcho-naturalism“when he has an army of magically ehanced minotaurs.

On the other hand, the demons felt strangely elated as their neared Galarcarn and that didn't bode well, because demons fed on misery. And lo, on the horizon, great fires lit the pillars of smoke rising over the city.

Something was amiss.



It all became clear when an ogre's head, still whispering something about “free association”, landed near the imps. In distant Galarcarn, elven flags and gallows rose over the city walls – Amberon had retaken the dwelling and culled the resisting population. This was unpleasant, but bearable, and King Lich V decided to use the imps to finally get a sense of the overall outline of the continent.



But matters back at home required his immediate attention. Trumpets blared and pillars shook, and into his hall marched a procession of werewolves sent by Sol de Torvega. Their normal linen clothes and golden sun medallions were accompanied with strategically placed furs – after all, the north is awfully cold for southern weres!

“Your majesty King Lich V! Our liege, Sol de Torvega, ruler of monster kingdoms by the will of Helia announces that, in light of recent alien invaders, he proposes a pact of alliance! Let no ill will mar the cooperation of the two realms and let their full powers be used to stop the terrible Dremmer who'd dim the light of Helia and sink the world into darkness!”

“Does his majesty send something to sweet... I mean, to show his willingness and generosity?”

To the diplomat's credit, his ears barely moved in confusion and he quickly gathered his wits, whispered something to his aide and, after some crowding from the Helians and sounds not unlike coins being dropped in a canvas bag, produced a silken pouch of gold.

“Of course, you highness! This bag of gold contains a modest, symbolic sum, to show that Sol de Torvega both follows custom and knows better than to insult your majesty's honor by sending a bribe”

King Lich chuckled, the action inaudible save for clanking of his jaw.

“Very well, I accept his majesty's proposal!”



Also symbolic was the trading post built near the freshly liberated Gnomewall. Now, trade always happened in monster kingdoms, although it had a major impediment (besides the lack of any solid math skills): the main means of transportation were goblin women. Hardy, yet as stupid and immune to education as the males, they made for cheap if risky beasts of burden. While they required little food and upkeep, they were notoriously prone to wandering into swamps or jumping off the thin roads in mountain passes. This usually meant that about a third of all goods would not survive any sort of trade trip.
Trading posts, on the other hand, employed the dire donkey, which gnomes could domesticate by putting a lump of turf on their heads, heading to donkey and then slowly walking away as the creature munched on the grass. Unfortunately, this meant that only bald gnomes could handle donkeys, as the dumb beasts had hard time distinguishing between turf-hat (a turfban if you will) and a gnome's hair.
The fact that average gnome probably had something growing in his hair didn't help either.
In any case, the citizens of Gnomewall could enjoy an increase in trade stability – that is, if anyone ever wanted to trade with a city surrounded by swamps and frozen mountains, and thus producing mostly misery and suicides.



Yet not all lands in the monster kingdom were dominated by doom and gloom (just the most of them). Citizens in Mealburn, distracted from worshiping strange interdimensional gods by a sea serpent strike on elven settlers, had an idea: what if we tried eating the monsters of the sea? I mean, sure, those were big and hard to kill, but at least they weren't haunted by queer energies that made pumpkin stalks sprout from one's wounds.

And so did they build big, sturdy boats, put some gnarly speartips on straight-ish poles of the hardest wood they could find and set out to hunt the ultimate prey: sea monster young that are too small to properly defend themselves. That evening, everyone ate heartily and anyone who complained that is was morally wrong to go after the monsters' young, were driven out of the city.

The exiles soon found out that moral superiority does nothing to contain horrible hunger pains.



“Khhhhhiiiing Liiiiich...” a voice not unlike hot desert breeze sounded in the undead Monarch's head.

“What? Who's there?”

“It is I... Heliaaa... The lady of the sun... aaaand the saaands”
“Great, more gods!”

“...siiilence, you impudent foool... My sssservants passsed through here.... aaand you caught my attention... Yyyyou will serve!”

“Damn it, what do you require?”

“Ssssome scum of Lunord.... peeeeeople away from the light... hiiiding in shadowsss...running from the sssun”

“Criminals or tax collectors?”

“Assassins... kill them... and the power of the dessssert will be yoursss”



And thus, werewolves were dispatched, to go over the mountains and kill some heretic Assassins.




"The Father's welcome, Your Darkness. This moon we have accomplished two missions and, if relations between the Great Mages remain strained, we will receive three more next month. The neophytes are thus far performing well. Olephia did forget that she was no longer a thief, so I sent her to collect night dew for the ritual as a punishment. I do hope she will learn her lesson, for I see great potential in her. Lunord needs more servants like her." Source unknown

Werewolves were stunned: they could usually smell humans (especially since many of them rarely washed themselves). Assassins didn't smell like anything and the weres had to basically march over the stealthy zealots. But before they could act...



King Lich V opened with the first strike, unleashing a death bolt! Assassins were scattered and wounded, but still in the fight, all thanks to their legendary training and endurance.



Meanwhile, Bearling was in the process of becoming the eastern most city in King Lich V's realm. Whatever defenders remained after torrents of somewhat crooked, a little blunt goblin arrows were over run once Snoop-Jims and his posse clambered over the walls. Quickly all the resistance was gone under a torrent of greyish bodies and audacious gold jewelry.



After looting the last rebelous person that had the gall to think he could live free of Wizard overlords, Khargem set out to the west, where lay a problem ideally suited to his skills.

Flying serpents.

While they were dangerous to those who couldn't shoot or, in great numbers, to certain wooden flagships named after certain water fowl, the serpents were no match to the power of a dedicated bowman.
And Khargem was nothing if not a dedicated bowman.

Soon, the sea started washing up myriads of flying serpent corpses, all pin-cushioned with arrows.




And even though more and more of the critters rose from their horrible nests, their fire breath was wasted on the heroic goblin who would soon knock them down from the air with well placed arrows!



Soon the beast were vanquished and their lair was scattered to the winds, their nests – broken, their eggs – scrambled and eaten with some roast cockroach.



At the same, the throat of the last Assassin found its way into a werewolve's jaws and all of the offending servants of Lunor were vanquished.

“...goood...youuu have proven... proven to bee a fffaithful... ssservant. Youuu... haaave my blessings...a bit of my power...”

“And this sack of gold really doesn't hurt” murmured King Lich V as Helia's presence retreated and he felt a phantom need to shake sand out of his ear.



Back where the corpses of the Assassins laid, Emerah had just received enough experience healing blunt trauma, poisoning and burns (remember the elemental!), that she had a writen a treatise on healing such wounds... in werewolves.

For that she has been nominated to receive an award from the Wulfen Academy For Study of Body Humours and Phrenology, marking her as a Star of Medicine.

To be fair, she didn't have much competition: goblins mostly ignored wounds (and no hostile organizms wanted to live in them anyways), gnomes would drink their troubles away, werewolves regenerated while Elves treated wounds via a process that could generously be called “post modern trigonometry”, whatever that meant.



Meanwhile, the imps were pushing deeper into the territory of the Elven realm until they came upon a discovery: live Dremer troops! They must have guarded a dremer gate that eventually exploded and now were left with nothing else to do.



However, this upset Amberon somewhat (probably because of the shame that someone saw the signs of his military weakness than the actual incursion) and an arrow flew through one of the windows in King's tower. After it was dislodged from a goblin, a scroll was discovered, stating that Amberon was canceling the alliance between the two kingdoms.



However, there was no time (or actual willingness) to mope about it Gold of the Lich finally completed the gold mine it was established to build. Many goblins worked and perished in the dreadful conditions under the mountain, suffocating, drowining in noxious alchemical purification concoctions, dieing in cave-ins... Fortunately, nobody seemed to care about it.



Back in the elven lands, the combined fire of the Galarcarn garrison and a two companies of archers finally managed to down the alien beasts.



And werewolves tore one of the ogres to pieces. Unfortunately, something really, really bad happened...