softly in the magus' ears. The necromancer obeyed, moving several feet to his left, then turned around... and froze in awe. He had done it! The mistress had answered his call!
Celphata was a dream, a beauty unlike any he'd ever seen. The goddess' closed dress—reflecting every shade of darkness imaginable—looked soft and elegant, accentuating her flawless figure. Her huge brown eyes pulsed with life, animating her fine symmetrical features, while her magnificent bush of raven-black hair, bound with a fanciful pin, cascaded down her immaculate shoulders. The goddess' hands, parted ever so slightly, were beaming two rays, dark as the very essence of midnight, right into the chest of the Lord of Darkness, paralyzing him in his tracks. This was worth living and dying for, the thought flashed through the necromancer's mind. Diarten gave a weary yet contented smile, savoring the sight of his mistress.
"Take this," Celphata's even voice brought the magus back to earth, as a warm wave of healing coursed through him, restoring all his strength in an instant. He regarded his mistress' palm, which held a soulstone with Nerghall's imprisoned essence, and raised his incredulous eyes at the goddess.
"What? But I summoned you, mistress. I am supposed to—"
The goddess pressed an elegant finger to his lips, stopping his rambling.
"Silence! This is your burden to carry by choice. I cannot destroy this creature, but you know how and where to hide this to ensure the Twice Cursed never finds his servant."
"I understand," Diarten accepted the stone, which was warm to the touch, and put it away in his pocket. The city militia, having just regained their faculties, were rushing to shut the gates and stop the flow of punishers streaming into the city. "I will do as you say."
"Go then! Give this stone to one you deem worthy, and I... I shall wait for you at the end of your path." The young woman brushed a cool palm against his cheek, a hidden pain flickering in her eyes...
All that had happened only yesterday.
The footpath finally led him to a large meadow. He made it! All he needed now was to seal the cave from within with a barrier impenetrable by the undead. Then, once the Ancient Beast took over his flesh and consciousness, it wouldn't be able to escape its prison. Diarten let the cool breeze caress his face, his shoulders slumped from exhaustion. All of a sudden he felt a gripping horror; it rose in waves from the very depths of his soul, clutching his heart and mind with cold clammy fingers. The menacing whisper in his head rose in volume, resounding like a funeral bell.
"No!" the magus whispered, breaking the chains of horror with an inhuman effort, conjuring the visage of the goddess in his mind to help shake off the delusion. "I am here, mistress!" The Master of Death whispered with cracked lips. With a farewell glance at the sun hanging over the woods, he staggered toward the dungeon, its entrance gaping darkly ahead.
"Krian! Dar, wake up!" Salta's voice betrayed a certain degree of panic.
"I'm here," though my vision was still blurry, I was quickly coming back to my senses. "And I'm all right."
"You call that all right?! You were completely lifeless for five whole minutes!"
"It happens," I sighed, struggling up to my feet, my hand still gripping the soulstone. A grayish haze billowed around the little pyramid, and I almost physically sensed the shackled Great Essence thrashing about inside it. I raised a prayer of gratitude to Altus for gifting me high resistance to mental magic—I suspected that the incoherent mumbling I was hearing would be far, far worse otherwise, like the sinister whispering and repugnant visions endured by the magus.
You've accessed the quest: Celphata's Will.
Quest type: epic, unique.
Shatter the soulstone. Release Nerghall's essence and slay the Lord of Darkness.
Reward: experience, increased reputation with Celphata the Goddess of Death, increased reputation with all the races in the
Celphata was a dream, a beauty unlike any he'd ever seen. The goddess' closed dress—reflecting every shade of darkness imaginable—looked soft and elegant, accentuating her flawless figure. Her huge brown eyes pulsed with life, animating her fine symmetrical features, while her magnificent bush of raven-black hair, bound with a fanciful pin, cascaded down her immaculate shoulders. The goddess' hands, parted ever so slightly, were beaming two rays, dark as the very essence of midnight, right into the chest of the Lord of Darkness, paralyzing him in his tracks. This was worth living and dying for, the thought flashed through the necromancer's mind. Diarten gave a weary yet contented smile, savoring the sight of his mistress.
"Take this," Celphata's even voice brought the magus back to earth, as a warm wave of healing coursed through him, restoring all his strength in an instant. He regarded his mistress' palm, which held a soulstone with Nerghall's imprisoned essence, and raised his incredulous eyes at the goddess.
"What? But I summoned you, mistress. I am supposed to—"
The goddess pressed an elegant finger to his lips, stopping his rambling.
"Silence! This is your burden to carry by choice. I cannot destroy this creature, but you know how and where to hide this to ensure the Twice Cursed never finds his servant."
"I understand," Diarten accepted the stone, which was warm to the touch, and put it away in his pocket. The city militia, having just regained their faculties, were rushing to shut the gates and stop the flow of punishers streaming into the city. "I will do as you say."
"Go then! Give this stone to one you deem worthy, and I... I shall wait for you at the end of your path." The young woman brushed a cool palm against his cheek, a hidden pain flickering in her eyes...
All that had happened only yesterday.
The footpath finally led him to a large meadow. He made it! All he needed now was to seal the cave from within with a barrier impenetrable by the undead. Then, once the Ancient Beast took over his flesh and consciousness, it wouldn't be able to escape its prison. Diarten let the cool breeze caress his face, his shoulders slumped from exhaustion. All of a sudden he felt a gripping horror; it rose in waves from the very depths of his soul, clutching his heart and mind with cold clammy fingers. The menacing whisper in his head rose in volume, resounding like a funeral bell.
"No!" the magus whispered, breaking the chains of horror with an inhuman effort, conjuring the visage of the goddess in his mind to help shake off the delusion. "I am here, mistress!" The Master of Death whispered with cracked lips. With a farewell glance at the sun hanging over the woods, he staggered toward the dungeon, its entrance gaping darkly ahead.
"Krian! Dar, wake up!" Salta's voice betrayed a certain degree of panic.
"I'm here," though my vision was still blurry, I was quickly coming back to my senses. "And I'm all right."
"You call that all right?! You were completely lifeless for five whole minutes!"
"It happens," I sighed, struggling up to my feet, my hand still gripping the soulstone. A grayish haze billowed around the little pyramid, and I almost physically sensed the shackled Great Essence thrashing about inside it. I raised a prayer of gratitude to Altus for gifting me high resistance to mental magic—I suspected that the incoherent mumbling I was hearing would be far, far worse otherwise, like the sinister whispering and repugnant visions endured by the magus.
You've accessed the quest: Celphata's Will.
Quest type: epic, unique.
Shatter the soulstone. Release Nerghall's essence and slay the Lord of Darkness.
Reward: experience, increased reputation with Celphata the Goddess of Death, increased reputation with all the races in the
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