The Lich’s Offer and the Final Stand

Fighting Through the Undead Horde

The streets of Veyleigh were no longer a city but a graveyard, a smoldering ruin filled with the sound of death. Arlan, Vrekk, and Gorrick carved their way through the endless waves of undead. Each swing of their weapons felled a new corpse, but still, the undead pressed forward, driven by the unrelenting will of the Lich.

The air was thick with necrotic energy, heavy like a suffocating fog. Arlan could feel it in his bones, each step heavier than the last. But there was no turning back. The city was dying, and with it, the lives of everyone within. He could feel the pull of the Lich's power drawing him closer. The time for hesitation was over.

As they neared the epicenter, the undead grew more aggressive, the shadows deepening around them. Gorrick, in his Cockatrice form, tore through the horde with wild abandon, his powerful tail smashing undead like ragdolls. Vrekk danced between shadows, his daggers flashing in deadly precision. But no matter how many they killed, the true source of the terror loomed ahead.

They had to reach the Lich.

The Lich Awaits:

Finally, they reached the center of the storm. The Lich stood before them, a towering figure in the heart of the necrotic maelstrom. His skeletal form was draped in tattered remnants of ancient armor, his eyes burning with an emerald fire that cut through the darkness. His presence was suffocating, the air warping around him like an unseen force pulling at reality itself.

Arlan's heart pounded in his chest, his grip tightening on his wand. This was it—the moment of reckoning. He had come too far to back down now.

The Lich spoke, his voice a deep, resonating echo, devoid of warmth. "So, the little necromancer arrives." His words dripped with indifference, as though he could hardly be bothered by the confrontation. "I've seen countless like you. Brought low by their own arrogance. You come here seeking to challenge me, but I've seen the fate of those before you. They always fall."

He waved a bony hand, gesturing to the city around them, the destruction all but complete. "You've met my master back in Duskhaven, yes? Malthar the Black." He spoke the name with an air of reverence, but his voice was as cold as the grave. "The first of us. He brought necromancy to its ultimate form. His will is law. He ordered the annihilation of this town, and once Veyleigh burns, we will march east to join our masters horde.

The Lich leaned forward, his empty sockets narrowing as he regarded Arlan with palpable disinterest. "You're no more than an insect in the path of a great storm. You could join us, rise with us, wield power beyond your comprehension. But you're too prideful, too weak, aren't you?"

Arlan's heart pounded in his chest. The Lich's words were like venom, but his resolve was absolute. Arlan straightened, his voice cutting through the Lich's indifference. "I'm not like you. I won't join your path of destruction." The words were like steel, unwavering. "I'll never stand with you."

The Lich's eyes flashed with something that might have been amusement—if he were capable of such emotions. "How predictable. Another fool clinging to his ideals. I've seen it a thousand times. They all fall. You'll fall too."

The Lich raised his hand, dark energy swirling around it like a storm about to break. "You can resist, of course. You have no choice in the matter. The moment you walked into this world, you signed your fate."

His voice grew cold, filled with finality. "Join us, and you will be rewarded. Resign yourself to death, and you will be forgotten like all the others."

The Battle with the Lich:

With no more words, Gorrick charged forward, his Cockatrice form swelling to monstrous proportions. His massive tail lashed through the air as he attacked, his claws raking through undead flesh with frightening strength. But the Lich wasn't fazed.

With a simple flick of his skeletal hand, Gorrick was crushed beneath a wave of necrotic energy. The Cockatrice form was overwhelmed, and Gorrick was sent flying through the air, his body breaking apart under the force. He landed in his Ratman form, unable to move, groaning in pain.

Vrekk was next. He shifted into the shadows, his form flickering as he used his Phasewalker ability to vanish. His daggers flashed as he struck from behind, but the Lich was faster. With a single movement, he unleashed a necrotic pulse that sent Vrekk hurtling through the air, crashing to the ground.

Arlan stood alone now, his body aching, his breath shallow. But he would not back down.

Arlan's Last Stand:

Arlan, desperation burning in his chest, activated Eclipsing Maw, merging with Vrekk. His body shimmered, becoming ethereal as the power surged through him. His form became incorporeal, phasing in and out of reality. The shadows clung to him, his movements impossibly fast. He felt Vrekk's strength, his speed, and his lethal precision flow through him.

For a moment, Arlan was unstoppable. His newfound spectral daggers slashed through the air, each strike landing with deadly accuracy. The Lich staggered, but the attack was not enough. The Lich moved with ancient speed and power, blocking every blow with ease. Even as Arlan's body flickered in and out of the material world, the Lich was relentless.

With a wave of his hand, the Lich slammed Arlan into the ground, his power overwhelming. Arlan crashed into the rubble, gasping for air, blood dripping from his side. His body screamed in pain.

A friends Protection

Just as the Lich prepared to deal the final blow, a figure rushed forward, shield raised. eyes filled with determination.

The ground shook as the Lich's energy collided with the figures shield, but he held firm, gritting his teeth as he pushed forward. The shield's light flickered brightly, pushing back against the Lich's power.

Arlan's vision blurred, but through the haze, he saw the familiar sight of Tomas, shield in hand, Grinning from ear to ear.

Tomas, panting heavily, turned to Arlan with a grin, despite the chaos around them. "Well, well. Looks like I'm saving your ass again" He wiped the sweat from his brow. "You really know how to get yourself into trouble, don't you?"

Arlan's heart raced, the relief almost overwhelming. But the battle was far from over. The Lich was still standing, the undead still rising, and the fate of the city hung by a thread.

But for now, Arlan could see a flicker of hope.