Bedeviled ~ Pt. 1 - Svenial

       We looked about for hints & traces of magical energy nearby, to see if we were getting closer to what we came to this complex land for. “I’ll scout the east with Alaindriin.” The little asuran thief ran up to me, only about half my size, with an asuran sword in his right hand and an asuran dagger in his left. And on his back, a tiny asuran short bow. They were made of precious tyrian metals, and – Like any asuran model – Glowed a vibrant teal, in between the fine lines. He managed to hold a vibrant smile across his profound, pale face. “I can look around the south with Everest and Xan.” Mjorn, the pudgy norn necromancer managed to let out, whipping his lengthy, moon-reflecting white hair out of his eyes. He was breathing heavily, and still holding his blood-covered daggers tightly from the last smaller battle. “It’s too warm here. I can’t wait to visit Hoelbrak again..” He sighed. “Well, then you are the perfect candidate to try my newest invention! It doesn’t have a set name yet.. But, how about the Cold Covet? What does it do? Well! It takes the dampness in the air around you, and literally freezes it to make it cold, then lets it all out! Quite simple really. Would you like further explana-” The poor asura was cut off. “We need to keep going. The artifact shouldn’t be far. Meaning neither should the mouth. We should just scout for and grab everything we need here fast and move out.” Everest, the human guardian said calmly, turning his fair face towards the mold-covered ruins ahead, staring them down with his silky blue eyes. But – His calmness was soon replaced with stress. “No time!” Xan, the charr engineer, pointed his antique-like dual pistols towards the dark, gloomy horizon, along the murky lake. There was an army. But, not just any army. An army of rotting undead. So, yes. We are in Orr, where shadows of risen, from wraiths, to charr, and minor races such as quaggan, roamed. Dead, yet alive. Souls of once innocent – or not – beings that are now and forever tormented in this old, drowned, & forgotten human land. Of course, until put to a final rest. It hurts me to think that perhaps some of the people they once were was still stuck in them.. Trapped.. Tormented.. It makes me glad I’m a sylvari. We are a plant race of Tyria, immune to dragon corruption. Of course, that doesn’t mean it can’t kill us, but if we do however die due to it, we won’t return and serve the sinister entities that ended our lives. I’m Svenial, a mesmer – Born during the cycle of dusk & from the Pale Tree to protect and serve our mother – To fight back against the corruption that poisons this once magnificent land. And here we are. Face to face against the deceased. Deceased who should be in the earth, being mourned by loved ones. But sadly, that can’t happen due to Zhaitan’s – The elder dragon of the undead – Morose influence.
       Everest lunged his grotesque, human-made greatsword out from his back sheathe and prepared his shining krytan staff for quick alternative use. He waved his hands in the air a few times. A radiant light emitted from them as well as glistening dust which fluttered off. Then, beside him formed a large, sea-tinted, ghastly shield, bow and hammer. They positioned themselves all around him to prepare for the oncoming enemies. “Ready.” He declared nobly, attempting to stretch, though his gold plated armour made it quite the challenge. He stared down the oncoming enemies through his protective helmet, though it still revealed some of his luscious hazel hair. Mjorn stowed away his blood-covered bone daggers to his sides, and took out his staff – Which was made from the dry bones of deceased entities – Then he straightened his semi-frayed, pale green clothing, and laid down a few dark magic traps on the cold, wet, muddy terrain beneath our feet to slow down the risen. “I don’t think being a necromancer in the land of the undead will be of much effect!” He pouted still sounding as if the honey ale from the previous night was in effect. Xan threw his pistols onto his thighs, and pulled out a monstrous metal flamethrower from his back, which was connected to the largest oil tank I had ever seen one carry. “By the damned dead gods I love this thing!” He shouted in his deep, fierce voice, while wagging his prolonged orange, and black striped tail from side to side. He also readied his kit of miscellaneous tools to another side, and a set of bombs on the other. Alaindriin stowed his magical sword & dagger to his sides and took his little short bow out from his back, readying a deceptive arrow. He quickly brushed his ears away from his eyes to get a better aim. As good as a thief he is, it is quite difficult to take him seriously when his enormous asuran ears are always getting in the way! And I, lastly, grabbed my golden greatsword from my back. My sword and focus were waiting at my sides in case they were needed for close range. I summoned 3 clones by my left and right to confuse the oncoming attackers. I held my dark green, grassy hand in the air to signal quick set up for the oncoming invasion of mutilated risen. Perhaps strength may be in numbers – Numbers in which we did not have – But the victory will ultimately go to the better prepared, and the more strategic bunch – Which we were. After a brief moment of silence – Apart from the frequent moans and groans of the oncoming undead – The rotten crowd had gotten just close enough, and I had lowered my hand.
       “Attack!” I bursted out, signalling everybody to destroy the first row of undead headed our way. Xan was first. He let out a monstrous chuckle as he sprayed the undead enemies with the red and yellow flames. Their already decomposing flesh had just burned away, leaving little bits of moldy bones. It gave a fowl scent, but not one we weren’t used to. Everest then followed, as did his spirit weapons. The ghostly bow positioned itself and pulled back a long, sharp spectral arrow, and released. The arrow penetrated the flesh of not one, but several risen. The cut was clean, but effective. They dropped to the mud in the order. Then, the spirit hammer rushed into the midst of the battle. It soared into the sky, and bolted to the ground, crushing skulls and limbs of the undead around it. They dropped, and didn’t stand back up. The summoned shield flew into battle as well. It hit countless numbers of undead, throwing them left, throwing them right, as well as even impaling some on sharpened, dead tree branches. Everest himself had then lunged into battle with the swing of his greatsword. It struck the neck of an undead human – Already missing an arm – Cleanly, removing the head as if it never had one in the first place. As the risen human fell to the ground, another plague-bearer – This time charr – Charged him from behind. He spun around unprepared. It knocked him back onto his knees, but his sword grasped the ground. Quickly he pulled himself up. But it again charged. This time more ferociously. This risen’s teeth were revealed. Mostly because its lips had been missing. I thought back to when I visited the amazing Black Citadel. I was there to not only explore out of my curiosity, but to help out Xan with his legions’ affairs. And then, I saw that same face. The charr. With his little, yellow teeth. Gigantic, cracked & curved horns. Bright white fur with darkened brown stripes. In fact he was quite the gentleman; He had helped me with directions when I first walked into the magnificent city through the asuran portal from Lion’s Arch. But now, he was nothing than a body. His soul was gone. Evils work was done. More accurately: Zhaitans. Alaindriin stepped out from the shadows and jumped on the back of the risen charr. He grabbed onto the collar of damp and tattered clothing he wore, and right before he managed to leap onto Everest, he slid his dagger into the back of the creatures’ neck. Once he fell, Everest stabilized himself, nodded his head to Alaindriin, and continued the battle. The little asura whipped his floppy, spotted ears back, showed another smile, and quickly re-hid himself. He always attacked from behind, and in the most deadly points on the body – Of any species – He had all the pressure points memorized. Because of course he would; He’s an asura! Mjorn grabbed a rusty enclosed keg of honey ale – His absolute favourite – From his belt, opened it, took a big chug, and laughed. “If I’m going to die, I’m going to do it right!” He quickly closed it, and hung it back. An undead skritt approached him. Less than ¾ of his size, he seemed crazy. But then again, the undead don’t think. The little rat creature tried crawling up his leg, but just as he reached Mjorn’s knee, he was swooped up by the skull, thrown into the air, and was smacked so hard by the end of his bone staff, that I – And probably every other adventurer within miles – Could hear the remaining bones shatter inside of the poor creature. It flew farther than I could see with the terrible damp fog, and dark sky contributing to the visibility. I could tell he wanted another gulp of ale already. But, before he could swipe one, he got surrounded. A human, a norn, and an asura. All dead. All trying to kill him. A common misjudgement; Just because they were undead, didn’t mean they didn’t fully know what they were doing. Of course, they didn’t think. But – That’s because Zhaitan did the thinking for them. Each and every one of them. They are programmed to eat, kill and work as one. Of course, too many orders will make the minions less stupid. Meaning, yes, smarter. And smarter meant they could think on their own. Which could potentially make the undead turn on themselves, or even their leader – Zhaitan. Which the elder dragon could not let happen (although, it would be nice), as my mother, the Pale Tree, taught me while I was still dreaming. He kept it simple. As the undead quickly drew closer and closer to Mjorn, he prepared a plan of his own in his head. I could tell – His face starts turning red when he thinks too much. Abruptly, he let out an angry roar, threw his bone staff at the face of the risen human with tremendous force – Causing it to stumble to the floor, and lose an eye. He then quickly drew his daggers from his sides. He jumped on the norn, and he was saddened that he had to kill someone who he probably knew. The norn’s face was too deformed to actually get a good look at what he used to look like, but Mjorn knew many people. Especially from Hoelbrak. And even if he didn’t know him – Or was just too drunk to remember, just killing one of his own race was a hard enough. The undead norn flailed, and tried to push off Mjorn, but he was just too heavy. Mjorn bashed him in the head with the metal hilt of one of his daggers, and then slit his throat with the other, ending his life – After death. The undead asura was carrying a stone, seaweed-covered hammer, and bashed Mjorn in the foot with it. He jumped up in pain, trying to hold in a series of curses. Out of rage, he kicked over the little being and crushed it with his foot... I don’t think I need to get into much more detail. He then raced over to the undead human and picked up his staff. He summoned an undead hand, and launched it toward the enemy. The pale, rotten, mutilated hand quickly grasped onto the head of the human, and simply crushed it. Ever so easily. Mjorn turned his huge head to me, cheekily smiled, and pointed towards my back. I turned around, and there stood another 4 undead creatures facing me and my 3 clones. They were full of rage, and empty of food. So it seemed to be my turn to fight.
       “I didn’t know you were into salads!” I said cracking myself up. Only a second after realizing the fact they didn’t know – Or even care – That I just socialized with them, even though I was the first person to in, perhaps, years – And the last. They just wanted me dead, as did I just want them dead. Hordes of undead were between us and our goal. We are on a mission. We were selected by the Pact – A mixture of 3 major alliances who joined forces to fight the elder dragons (the Durmand Priory, a magic-crazed bunch, the Order of Whispers, an alliance of assassins, and the Vigil. Masters of head-on combat.) – to find, and take out a mouth of Zhaitan. What is the mouth? Well, the mouth is a mixture of Zhaitans favourite minions. He forces his undead to mutilate, and combine them. Not only mentally, but also physically. Then, he sends them to find items with large sources of power, to make it feed on the artifact’s source. So that Zhaitan himself gains the power to make himself even stronger. Which we do not want – When he is weak enough, we can strike him head on. That is why we’re here. The Priory were able to find a magic source from an large artifact nearby, the problem is, it is secured by hordes of undead. Yes. The ones which we are currently fighting. But when cleared, only the mouth will stand in our way. So, we lessen the amount of mouths in Orr by 1, bring back an artifact to the Priory for analysis, and maybe even use it as bait for future mouths… ‘Slowly but surely’, I have to keep telling myself that. Even though all of this doesn’t feel like it’s worth it, I know, in the big picture, everything is. Because it all counts. If 1,000 little quests were done for a big cause, then it would always equal more than a couple of larger ones. Slowly, but – Surely. I looked each and every one of the undead approaching me in the eye. A tengu – A race of bird resembling beings, a human, an asura and even a kodan – The northernmost inhabitants of Tyria (as well as polar bear-like entities), next to norn.. And we are all the way down south.. I sometimes wonder how some things get here! I drew my greatsword, as did my 3 identical clones. The bloody kodan was first – He wasn’t cute and cuddly though. His fur was all missing, as well as spots of arms and chest. His armour was almost all gone too, leaving him more vulnerable – But, more hurtful for the eyes. He lunged himself at the clone closest to me. And before I knew it, my clone was on the ground being ripped to pieces. The kodan’s jagged and cracked claws sunk deep into the imaginary foliage of my clone. Scarcely enough, if I were to die in Orr, this would probably be how. Seconds later, the clone was in fact dead. It turned into more of a pink hue, and the skin, clothes and weapon it had, wore and held, cracked outwards from the incisions, and fluttered to the ground, just like breaking glass. The undead kodan got up, revealing blood and cut wounds on its hands and feet from the sharpened, shattered clone. It let out a shout of anger, and looked at another me, except, this time, the real me. I waited no longer. I lifted my greatsword into the air in front of my almost shaking hands, with my mind. And from the tip of the blade, shot out a bright wine-hued, luminous ray of magic, which struck the beast in the chest, causing physical, and mental, pain. My clones mimicked. The beast was now very angry. He again lunged at me. Quickly, I dodged backwards, vanishing into a mystical stealth and leaving in spot another clone. The kodan killed that one too, but again suffered even worse wounds. While still invisible to the kodan, I teleported behind him in the blink of an eye. I swung my greatsword onto my back, and pulled out my crystal, blue sword and scroll focus. Him not knowing, I raised my sword. And swung it with tremendous force on his rotted shoulder. He spun around in agony, and let out an eerie screech for one of his undead friends to join in the battle. To try and kill me. He raised his fist and quickly dropped it, attempting to land it on my head. But in time, I rolled out of the way. Though, the asura latched onto my back. He held a sharp orrian dagger. Then managed to raise it, but I grabbed his wrist before anything else happened. Quickly, I pulled him from my back, and threw him to one of my clones, who caught him & slit his already half missing throat. Next thing you know, he was on the ground, left to bleed out – Which he did. I jumped back, raised my sword and commanded each of my remaining clones to detonate themselves – They ran up to the kodan, let out a shout, and like glass, they shattered right down the middle. The bits and pieces of shrapnel flew through the air and scattered itself over the risen kodans’ body. He screeched, and fell unto a knee. The shrapnel covered him. I was at peace to know either he would either bleed to death, or I would get to kill him first. This time, I lunged at him. My sword held high. But before I could swing, the undead tengu decided to interrupt. He shot an old poisonous arrow from the antique bow it held, implementing that the tengu had probably been risen for a while, probably killing a handful of adventurers before he met us. I called out, raised my focus and a phantasmal warden appeared before my eyes. The ghastly purple figure of me quickly whipped out two mystical axes, and spun around in all directions as if there were to be no tomorrow, creating a projectile-deflecting bubble around me. The arrow hit it, and whipped itself right back at the tengu. He screeched in pain as the arrow planted itself right into his heart, quickly killing him. My illusionary warden dissipated into the air, as his service was no longer needed. I jolted my head back to the kodan, noticing right away.. He was no longer where I last saw him. I spun around only to find him – And the risen human – Ready to pounce. The human did first. I dodge rolled, leaving the clone to take my place, and damage him. But I wasn’t so lucky in terms of dodging the kodan. I tried, but he ferociously grabbed me, threw me to the ground, and raised his bloody fists. Fast to react, I ordered the clone fighting the human to distort me from the kodan. He ran over, and like the last time, shouted and shattered. Except this time, the particles were enveloped in a mystical power and they aimed directly for his eyes. Right before he tried to hit me, the particles entered. He howled. Then tried to hit me, but his vision was too blurred to see anything. He missed every time. Hitting too much left, hitting too much right, or not even hitting anything at all. I took this opportunity, got up, jumped back, and lunged forward, this time with no distractions. My blade entered into where it had hit the first time, causing the jagged cut through his neck to – This time – Take off his head entirely. He dropped fast. But I remembered the human still stood. I spun around, and quickly summoned three new clones. There was no fear in his eyes. After seeing all of this, I know I would be scared – No, petrified! But he can’t, I have to remind myself. He is undead. If you let death get to you, you don’t stand a chance – Not in Orr. Quickly, I laid down a magic curtain, and detonated it too. Pulling the risen human up to my face. I let two of my clones hold him, and made one shatter. But this time, the shatter was inflicted the undead humans’ thought process. The mystical shatter remnants went straight for his brain. The function was obvious. He couldn’t think straight. I ordered my clones to let go of him. He then tried to hit them, but instead was hitting himself. I allowed another to again shatter for the physical damage. The sharp shrapnel rained down on his body. Including his fists, and feet. Repeatedly, he pummeled himself with his bloody hands and heels. He couldn’t help it. He knew he wanted to hit me, he knew he wanted me dead, but I controlled him now. I watched – Not long after, he was on the ground. Beaten, bloody and bruised, but dead. The way he should have stayed in the first place… Not that he had the choice. My remaining clone dissipated into the gloomy atmosphere, and only I remained. I dusted off my shining clothing, and with that, wave one was complete. I looked around. Bodies of the undead littered the rotten, blood red soil for as far as I could see. But on a more positive note, from what I could see, the rest of my team seemed well as well could be… Apart from their stomach’s miss of food… Thank the Pale Tree.