Narg and the Necromancer

Go West, Young Man.

“You believe him? You think there’s a key in some castle? This guys a total loon.” He gestured to the old man, now rocking back and forth on his stool. “What about you Gorgus?”

Gorgus looked serious. “Even if there is no key, such a place, if it is real - and those scars were, should be cleansed.”

Narg made a face. “So the plan stays the same. We go west, and if there’s a little side jaunt into a castle then we do that. And Bloodletter may feed.” With a scowl he spun around and stalked off in further search of an Inn.

They found an inn, “The Unknown Lump” as it was called. Though it barely deserved to be called an inn in Narg’s opinion, with dirty and long unused rooms. He had a restless night, with dreams of someone calling his name, and awoke little refreshed and in a bad mood.

The Landlady was the only one in the cold common room when he clumped down and threw himself into a chair, which barely took his weight.

He snapped at the woman. “Ale and meat. Make it quick.”

By the time the watery ale was delivered, Shogun and Gorgus had joined him.

“I believe I would have spent a more relaxed night in the woods,” Gorgus complained, scratching his arm. Less vermin anyway.” He snatched some sort of black insect off his chain-mail and squashed it between his fingers. The bug let out an audible squeak as it perished.

The breakfast dog was old and tough; a fact the landlady had tried to hide by smothering it in hot peppers.

“By the hells woman!” shouted Narg when he took a bite, coughing and reaching for his ale. “I swear shorty here,” he gestured at Shogun, “would taste better than this meat.” He took a long swig of the ale and slammed the tankard down on the table.

When the landlord put his face through the door and enquired if everything was okay Narg stood up and grabbed the man by the throat, physically lifting him off his feet and slamming him against the wall, dislodging mortar from the ceiling. Shogun and Gorgus glanced up, and then continued to chew at their meat.

“All right? All right?” Narg bellowed. “I’ve slept in dungeons better than this! You should put up a warning not a welcome sign!”

The landlord was turning purple, so, slowly, Narg released his death grip and allowed him to speak, which he did after a moment of spluttering.

“I… I am truly sorry sir,” gasped the landlord. “These are troubled lands, we are plagued by woes. Our people are carried off by demons, and now the dead walk again, causing death and destruction to our community. Only a few of us are left, most survivors have packed up and left for the city.”

“Ay, well, no excuse for a bad breakfast.” Narg let the man go and threw a few coins on the table. The three gulped down the rest of their food and stepped outside.

The day was gloomy and a cold breeze blew from the north. Narg wrapped his cloak around him and plodded of to the west, companions in tow.

They followed a muddy trail, which was obviously rarely used, and soon narrowed forcing them to proceed single file. The woodlands thinned and slowly turned into swamp. The path meandered among and around muddy lakes and dark pools, which bubbled and stirred in disturbing fashion. The smell of rot and methane pervaded the air.

Onwards they plodded, silent in the gloom, each adventurer wrapped in his own thoughts. They stopped under a large rotten tree for a break, sitting on a damp log under the gnarly branches.

The afternoon brought more of the same.

“I guess we should have asked how far this place was,” muttered Shogun as he stomped through a puddle. Being shorter he had suffered more and was now thoroughly wet and in a bad mood. “You know what I think...”

Whatever he thought Narg never found out, for out of the gloom loomed several figures. He stopped short and drew Bloodletter from its sheath.

The good news was that four of the figures were dead. Less happily though, was that this state of being wasn’t stopping them standing across the small pathway looking ugly, or at least uglier than usual, for they were Greater-Orcs. All of them hefted large axes and were garbed in dirty chain mail.

Standing between the middle two, and slightly behind, Narg could not help noticing, was another figure. Also tall, this one was clad in a long hooded black robe. Nothing could be seen of his face in the shadow of the hood. In a gloved left hand he held a long black staff. Steam appeared to be emanating from the staff, as if it were very cold.

The hooded figure pointed his other hand at Narg and spoke in a rasping voice.

“You. You still come. Have you not learned your lesson? You are attacked by demons and creatures from beyond the pale, yet still you stalk me. What kind of man are you who would throw his life away for a few pieces of gold?”

Narg shrugged. “It’s what I do. Just business you know, nothing personal. I assume you are the necromancer whom I have been hearing so much about?”

“It matters not who I am. What matters is that now it is your turn to die, and when you are a corpse I will raise your still warm body and put it to use for my own nefarious ends.”

“Sorry mage, I have nefarious plans of my own. You will excuse me if I don’t oblige.” Narg could hear Shogun mumbling a spell behind him, and wanted to give the wizard time to cast it. Before he could stall any more the necromancer spotted the wizard and raised his staff. “Get them,” he screamed at the undead, retreating at the same time.

“Narg, drop!” shouted Shogun.

Narg threw himself to the ground as a large ball of orange flame roared over his head and engulfed two of the Orcs and the cloaked figure. The Orcs exploded in a burst of roasted, rotten meat, covering the area in cooked giblets like some kind of unfortunate shower. However, the Necromancer had magical wards, and the flame merely made him stumble as he retreated up the path in a strange loping gait. Narg wasn’t going to let him get away that easily.

“Gorgus! Deal with the other Orcs! I am going after the death mage!” So saying he leapt between the surviving Orc zombies and jumped over the smouldering crater in the path to run after the Necromancer.

“Come here you!” he shouted waving Bloodletter. “My sword wishes to make your acquaintance.” Bloodletter let out a howl of agreement.

The Necromancer whirled around and pointed his staff at Narg, discharging a pulse of silvery energy at the approaching fighter. Narg raised Bloodletter instinctively in defence and the two magics met in a burst of explosive light and energy, throwing Narg onto his back and stunning him momentarily. He shook his head and stood up, staggering forward again after the Necromancer, just in time to see a slender black-clad figure leap into the road in front of the mage. The figure waved a thin sword at the hooded wizard and shouted a challenge Narg failed to hear, but the magic user once again pointed his staff and fired a burst of energy. The would be challenger was hit full on, the magic catapulting the figure high into the air, throwing them head over heels off the road to land in the swamp with a dull splash.

All of this took but a moment, and the necromancer had barely slowed. With his strange run he picked up the pace again and dived into some thick scrub by the side of the path. Narg ran after him but slowed as he neared the figure in black, now floundering in the sticky mud of the swamp. The unfortunate fighter was an Elf, clad in studded leather amour from what he could see.

“Help sire! Get me out of here, for I shall surely perish in this foul muck.” The figure splashed helplessly and Narg could see it was a female Elf, with long golden hair now sadly plastered all over her face by the dirty waters.

He looked forward at the place the Necromancer had disappeared and then at the Elf, slowly sinking in the bog and paused, uncertain.

“Good sir! I beseech you; please lend me assistance in my moment of peril. I predict thy will be repaid when your time of need is at hand.”

Narg had always had a soft spot for the Elfin female form so, with a last glance at where the necromancer had dived out of sight, he sighed and reached into his pouch of gigantic holding, rummaging deep into its depths. After a moment, in which the elf had sunk to her shoulders, he found what he wanted.

 Withdrawing his arm he pulled a rope from the pouch like a Ravathian snake conjurer. Quickly looping the end, he threw it to the sinking figure.

She grabbed it as he threw it around a tree trunk. Once she was ready he started to pull. With her half swimming and Narg grunting away, they managed finally to pull her to the path, where she crawled up onto dry land like an evolving amphibian.

Narg helped her stand. Even bedraggled and covered with dirty swamp water she was visibly attractive. Black knee length boots around trim, well-toned legs. A slim rapier sheath was slung alongside a very short leather skirt. Her top was studded leather amour, with a band of throwing knives wrapped around the torso. She was slender and nearly as tall as Narg. Long blond hair, sadly matted with swamp water hung about her and partially covered her finely chiseled face. Exotic green eyes examined Narg keenly, even as he did the same.

“Well met Sir Hero,” she said. “I feared I had met my fate in this sorry pool.”

“Name’s Narg,” Narg said, gathering the rope and feeding it back into his pouch. “I felt I couldn’t let such a fine figure go to waste in such a dismal manner.”

“I am Serime,” she said, looking around and locating her rapier. “Are you alone good knight?”

Narg started. “The others! The Orcs!” He turned and ran back down the path to where he had left the cleric and the wizard. He found Gorgus leaning over a prone Shogun and chanting a healing mantra. Of the Orcs there was no sign.

“Shorty!” He shouted as he ran up. “Did they get him?”

Shogun looked up from the ground. Blood oozed from his head, and he was obviously not well.

“Thaat yuu Nurg?” he said in a weak voice. “See tht firbll?” He slumped back and his eyes closed.

“Short stuff!” said Narg.

Gorgus leaned back. “Fear not warrior, he will live. He sustained a blow to the skull, but I have cast magic, and he will recover by tomorrow. Such is my prediction. Who is this?” He gestured a b****y hand at Serime.

“A fellow traveller,” replied Narg.

“Indeed,” replied Gorgus. “And what is a lone elf doing out in the swamp?”

“Not that I answer to you,” said Serime, “but I am searching for my brother. He was out here somewhere investigating…” she paused. “…on patrol.”

Something about her attitude suggested they would not get further information.

“Come Narg, help me with Shogun. We need to find a camp for the night,” said Gorgus.

“I may be able to help you,” said Serime. “Follow.”

Narg and Gorgus, carrying Shogun between them, followed the elf. She led them to a small hill with a clearing at the base. Signs of a recent camp were still visible. Serime explained she had stayed there the previous night.

Narg left Gorgus attending to Shogun and scouted the area, as was his habit. Serime joined him. “What are you three doing in this area? And who was the figure that so effectively displaced me?”

“We are after a necromancer…” Started Narg, but was interrupted as Serime pointed at something.

They examined a lump by a low tree, and found a human body in a state of decomposition. The corpse was clad in leather amour, and the cause of death seemed to be fairly obvious. Half his skull had been caved in with a blunt object. In one hand he still held a sword. Narg stooped and picked it up whilst Serime examined the body, holding her nose as she did so. She carefully lifted an elaborate gold necklace with a blue gem from around the dead man’s neck.

“Nice,” said Narg, deciding the sword was not worth the effort of carrying and throwing it into the brush. “Anything else?” A quick search revealed a couple of gold pieces in a pouch, but nothing else of interest.

“I wonder who put paid to this warrior?” said Serime.

“Probably some undead” said Narg, dismissing the body. “Come on, let’s get back to camp.”

The two left the corpse to its own devices and walked back into the gloom.

Night fell. They lit a fire and ate. Gorgus sat by the unconscious Shogun and fell into a deep meditation.

Narg had unrolled his bedding when he became aware of a figure close behind him. He turned to find Serime advancing upon him slowly.

“I know of you Narg,” she said, drawing close.

“You do?”

“Yes, I have heard the bards’ songs.” She stepped close and raised her arms, looping her hands around the back of his neck. “The tales say you wield a mighty weapon.”

“Well, Bloodletter…”

He was stopped by a single finger over his lips. “I was not speaking of that kind of weapon.” Her hand moved down over his body, deftly undoing catches as it reached his breeches. “I’m speaking of a different kind of sword entirely…”

Then they both gasped, though for different reasons. “I see the tales do not exaggerate for once,” she smiled. “Let me see if I can go some way to repaying you for your heroic work this day.” So saying she slowly dropped to one knee, then the other.

She gasped again when she released Narg from his trappings, allowing him to spring free like any hungry beast would when confronted with its prey. “A mighty warrior and a mighty warrior!”

She moved forward and Narg uttered a low moan as she stopped speaking and put her mouth to a better use. Narg had been around somewhat, and he was no stranger to the ladies, but this elf was an expert. He felt himself becoming more and more aroused.

Serime was obviously no innocent herself. Just as Narg felt he couldn’t hold back any more she stopped and stood up smiling. “Not yet my brave warrior,” she said, and removed her leathers, letting them drop to the floor.

Narg surveyed her slim, taught body with hands and eyes. Both reported findings to his liking. Her breasts were firm, and her stomach was flat and rippled with muscle.

“My brave hero, take thy reward for rescuing this young maid so bravely…” she said quietly, and pulled Narg down onto his sleeping mat. Narg lowered his body on top of hers, covering her slender frame with his large muscular one. He thrust brutally, too aroused to care about taking it slowly, but she was ready for him, and lifted her loins up to meet his.

They lunged and thrust with an animal passion, rolling off the mat into the brush and back again, both uttering low grunts as they half wrestled, half rutted in the dark woods. Serime clawed at Narg’s back and bit his shoulder, giving him his worst injuries so far on this expedition. Narg pounded and held her wrists above her head as he savagely impaled her time and time again.

Eventually they both shouted aloud in unison, threatening to alert any lurking necromancer or undead within a two league radius of their whereabouts.

Narg pushed himself off her panting body and lay on his back next to her, breathing hard. Sweat glistened in the firelight, and he admired her heaving chest whilst feeling his injuries.

“Next time, I vow, I will not be so gentle,” said Serime. Narg grunted, exhausted from the day’s walk and more recent exertion, and they both rolled up in the mat and fell asleep, heedless of any danger that could be lurking in the woods…