Dreamer's Throne

One of the most dangerous aspects of the current zombie attack was that the typically mindless horde of undead was moving strategically, thanks to the necromancers who controlled them. It was one thing to fight a mindless monster who only knew how to attack the closest enemy, and entirely another to fight a relentless enemy who could strategize. In many ways, Garrett's largest headache in trying to plan the defense against Lesrak's March was figuring out how he was going to eliminate the minds behind the assault. The necromancers typically hid deep within the zombie army, making it incredibly hard to target them from the defensive line, or they embraced a transformation, turning themselves into incredibly powerful undead monstrosities that became even harder to kill.

Now a glimmer of possibility had appeared. Garrett sat on the Dreamer's Throne, his mind full as he tried to manage the tremendous stream of information coming his direction. His primary focus, however, was still in the hollow space where Delrisa, the vampire, had prostrated herself. He had to confess he didn't understand exactly what was happening and had assumed that the situation would play out very differently. This was the second time that an intelligent monster had fallen under his sway, but the first time it had done so willingly. First Isabelle, the dire spirit, and now Delrisa, a Lord of the Night. It almost gave Garrett a headache thinking about how he was going to manage the growing crowd of monsters hanging around, but that was a problem for another time. For the moment, he was content to use her to maximum effect, so he focused on his projection in the hollow space and gestured for Delrisa to rise.

"If you would truly serve me, I have a mission for you."

She stood at once, moving so fast her body was a blur, even as the cut on her forehead rapidly closed up, leaving nothing but dried blood behind as a testament to its existence.

"I am ready to serve," she said, her eyes flaring with multicolored light.

"You will lead Isabelle to find and kill the necromancers controlling the zombie forces," Garrett said, "focusing on those at the back and working your way towards the defensive line. Kill them as quickly and as quietly as possible. As you do, any zombies that are uncontrolled, command them to attack the other zombies, or if that won't work, send them back to their rest."

Delrisa nodded, and her figure blurred once more as she darted for the door. She had just made it out into the hall when she stopped, looking right and left with uncertainty. Turning around, she looked almost sheepish.

"My lord, how do I get out of here?"

It took all of Garrett's self-control not to chuckle, but he pointed down the hall.

"Isabelle will bring you out," he said.

A moment later, what looked like a sea of hair rushed down the hall, wrapping itself around Delrisa and pulling her out of the hollow space. She appeared on a rooftop even as Garrett took control of Isabelle, and together they scanned across the city. From where they stood, they could see the Maragoth, locked in a desperate fight with the adventurers and the hordes of zombies pressing into the slowly failing defensive line in the Brass Tiger Syndicate's territory.

"Come," Garrett said, speaking through Isabelle as he gestured for Delrisa to follow. "We'll begin in the graveyard."

While Delrisa didn't have the ability to move between reflective surfaces like Isabelle, the night was her domain, and she flew through the air with unbelievable speed, moving so fast that Garrett nearly couldn't keep up. The storm had begun to settle, the fiercest part of it having blown itself out, and the dark clouds had settled into a heavy drizzle. This suited Garrett just fine, though it made it harder to find raindrops to jump to in the distance. So he hitched a ride with Delrisa, having Isabelle hide in one of the buckles on Delrisa's boots.

Soon they were over the royal graveyard, and Garrett could see the thousands of zombies still milling around. One of the advantages of funneling them into a single exit was that the zombies created a natural choke as they rushed to leave the graveyard, jamming themselves in and often getting in one another's way. It only took Delrisa a few moments to spot the first of their victims, a necromancer stumping along at the back of the group, oblivious to the vampire who touched down lightly on the roof of a nearby mausoleum. With a faint shimmer, Isabelle manifested and Garrett spoke to Delrisa through the dream flower she carried. "Who is he?"

"Ceroth," Delrisa replied, "a coward and backstabber. His focus is on poison."

"What sort of defenses should we be worried about?"

"He can release noxious clouds of poison that will melt anything they touch," Delrisa said.

"Then don't allow him to transform. Distract him for me."

Nodding, Delrisa moved immediately, her body blurring as she launched herself from the roof of the mausoleum, diving down through the drizzling rain to attack. Ceroth had been whining to himself, complaining about being stuck at the back of the attack, and noticed the aerial assault too late to do anything about it. Her shriek, right before she slammed into him, seemed to shock him, stunning him into inaction, and a moment later her long nails sank deep into his shoulders as she began to rip and tear.

Slightly stunned by the abrupt attack, Garrett realized that he probably should have been a little bit clearer with his instruction. He had intended for Delrisa to draw the necromancer's attention, not attack him outright, though on reflection, her attack certainly qualified as a distraction. Hearing the necromancer's scream and seeing his body start to shift and twist, Garrett didn't hesitate any longer, and Isabelle sprang into action. It took a simple thought for her to appear in the rain behind the necromancer, and even less time for her hair to wrap around his body tightly. He could feel the necromancer's body squirming as his bones and flesh attempted to reform, but Garrett wasn't about to let that happen.

A powerful shriek escaped from Isabelle's lips, causing Delrisa's eyes to widen as she hastily retreated, avoiding the solid wall of sound that reverberated from the dire spirit's mouth. The shriek held such immense power that nearby zombies trembled and collapsed to the ground, black blood oozing from their ears as their minds were crushed. The necromancer fared no better, being battered senseless by the force of the shriek. He was only a few feet away and bore the brunt of the attack, causing his transformation to slow. Even as it did, Isabelle's hair tightened as Garrett commanded her to put all her strength into the attack. With a wrenching sound, the necromancer's body was torn apart as dark strands of hair ripped through his flesh.

His head rolled one way and his limbs fell to the ground in a heap, his transformation halted as his life force dissipated into the air. Isabelle's hair flicked away the black blood that coated it, and she turned to look at Delrisa, who had returned to the top of the mausoleum. Nodding, Delrisa closed her eyes and a wave of mental energy spread. Gradually, the nearby zombies, who had fallen into a stupor after the necromancer's death, began to regain their vigor, their eyes glowing red as they received the command to attack. Growls, roars, and shrieks erupted from them as they charged forward, their nails sinking into the flesh of their former companions as they threw themselves with fury against the zombies in front of them. In an instant, Isabelle stood beside Delrisa once more.

"Let's find the next target," Garrett said.

Between Delrisa and Isabelle, the necromancers stood little chance, and the next one fell even more easily. The female necromancer, attacked by Delrisa and caught off guard, attempted to transform her body into a spiky monstrosity, only to find herself bound, her limbs immobilized, making it easy for Delrisa to extract her brain. It was a brutal and bloody task, and more than once, Garrett felt his stomach churn with nausea, but it was absolutely necessary. Little by little, by the time the fourth necromancer fell, Garrett knew that their efforts were having a tremendous effect. The damage to Agma-Yoth's forces was already evident. With four necromancers down, over a thousand zombies had turned on their own ranks, causing a cascading effect that had nearly halted the zombie advance.

Though Delrisa did not maintain direct control over them as a greater undead, she was able to exert a loose influence, commanding a tremendous number of zombies at once and putting immense pressure on the enemy forces. According to Delrisa's memory, there were likely only six or seven necromancers remaining, excluding those trapped underground. Two of those necromancers were currently engaged in battle with Paskal and Gero Twin Blade, while the others struggled to deal with their own minions turning against them. Apart from the Maragoth, which Garrett honestly had no idea how to deal with, the battle against Agma-Yoth's forces was progressing well, and Garrett began to feel a glimmer of hope that they might actually have a chance at victory. He had not anticipated the formidable defense that Paskal of the Brass Tiger Syndicate would put up, and had expected the gang to crumble within the first hour. Instead, they had been fighting for almost half the night, and now that they were reinforced, it seemed as if they might be able to hold their defensive line.

Taking a moment to pause and reflect, Garrett considered the situation as a whole. The true battle would take place underground, with Viper and Cynen leading their group through the labyrinthine passages of the first tomb. But before he could divert his attention there, there was still much to be done on the surface. Sending Delrisa to locate the remaining necromancers, Garrett controlled Isabelle to go and check on the defensive line. He observed Gero Twin Blade moving with supernatural grace as she fought against the scythe-wielding necromancer. Paskal's battle against the slug-like necromancer had deteriorated to the point where he repeatedly crushed large sections of the necromancer's body, only for the undead life force to surge, causing the necromancer's flesh to rapidly regenerate.

"My lord, I found them," came a whisper, and Garrett took one final glance at the gang's defensive line before directing Isabelle to join Delrisa.

There were only three necromancers left, fewer than Garrett had initially thought, and they stood together, speaking in hushed tones. It was impossible to hear their conversation, though Garrett could easily guess its nature. The attack had not gone in the necromancers' favor, and despite the Maragoth's continued rampage, the zombie assault had been so severely blunted that it was all but over. To make matters worse, the zombies at the rear of the formation had gone berserk, forcing these necromancers to divert the majority of their forces to their own defense. Naturally self-centered, the necromancers were undoubtedly discussing whether to press on with the attack or retreat and hide once more. However, Garrett would never allow that outcome. He intended to crush the Dark Hand entirely. If he was to take control of the territory Agma-Yoth held, he could not tolerate the continued existence of the necromancers.

"My lord, we should wait for them to separate," Delrisa suggested, her hissing voice nearly drowned out by the rain.

"That’s a good idea," Garrett replied, producing a mirror in Isabelle’s hand and pointing a finger towards the other side of the street, where the necromancers stood at the mouth of a small alley, their figures completely obscured by their cloaks as zombies milled around them.

"Pretend you're a necromancer and see if you can get close," he instructed. “Lure one of them away and eliminate him.”

Though it seemed as if Delrisa was about to say something, she ultimately remained silent and with a flicker of shadow, she was gone. Garrett knew that Delrisa was right: attacking three necromancers at once would be a challenge. So far, their fights had been relatively easy. Thanks to their strategy of ambushing each necromancer one by one, they had overwhelmed them each with a furious assault and Isabelle's shaper level strength, but three necromancers together would be an entirely different story. By the time they could kill one, the other two would have completed their undead transformations, making them that much harder to fight against. Thankfully, raw power wasn't all Isabelle had at her command.

Down in the alley below, the three necromancers were indeed discussing whether or not they should turn around and leave. Two of them were in favor of returning to the deep crypts, while the third found himself torn. He was concerned that such action might be viewed as a betrayal by Lesrak, and the result of such a betrayal would be much worse than staying here and fighting it out. Unable to come to an agreement, things were starting to get heated when one of the necromancers suddenly stopped, staring across the street at the alleyway, at the opposite alleyway. A hooded figure stalked towards them from the mouth of the alley, the zombies paying the figure absolutely no mind.

"Who's that?" one of the necromancers asked.

"I'm not sure. Must be one of ours though."

Naturally suspicious, the necromancers were on guard, but when Delrisa pulled down her hood to reveal her face, the three of them breathed a sigh of relief.

"Lady Delrisa," one of them said, bowing slightly, "your transformation seems to have been a success."

"The Great Lord has favored me," Delrisa said, a cold smile on her pale, blood-red lips. "Why do the three of you hesitate here, cowering in the shadows?"

Exchanging glances, the three necromancers didn't know what to say. Delrisa was known to be one of the most fanatical followers of the skeletal hand of Lesrak, and one of its most powerful as well, as evidenced by her ability to transform into a Lord of the Night. There were few undead who were granted more power than a vampire, and it was with considerable jealousy that the three necromancers looked at her. She paid their stares no mind.

"You," she said, her tone imperious as she pointed her long nail at one of the necromancers, "come with me to block the rogue zombies while I go discover what's gone wrong. The two of you, press forward. We've almost broken through the defensive line and if you throw your forces against them, the pathetic defenders will break."

Her commands carried with them a subtle charm, and before they knew it, the three necromancers found themselves agreeing.

"Yes, Lord of the Night," one of them said, bowing. "We will do as you command."

Unaware of the figure standing on the roof above them, the two necromancers she had pointed to hurried to gather their forces, intending to advance toward the ongoing assault, while the third followed Delrisa in the other direction.