“The chieftain has three generals under his command.”
Grimright stood above the piles of dead goblins. His men helped the skeletons drag the corpses to Frail’s domain pedestals, their eyes widening whenever they came close to his constructs.
Even Draugrs weren’t used to walking skeletons.
“Three vastly different combatants,” He continued, “The strongest one is called Ogrin; he’s the biggest of the bunch—far larger than our beacon walls. It fights honest; it doesn’t use magic, no spells, no tricks—Just plain brute force and an insane appetite for carnage. We could barely land a hit on that bastard.”
Larger than a beacon wall? How… big is that, exactly?
“I’ve seen your entrance… I don’t think Ogrin fits through there.” The draugr added.
I guess that’s one worry off the list.
“The other one carries a long staff with a skull at its head. The magic it wields decimated the majority of us.” He looked down at his hand, “We suffer the most casualties from it. Hak’thar, its name… I’ll never forget.”
Fire magic. Brute strength. Nothing new so far.
“Then… the final one… we didn’t see it until it was too late. Couldn’t even spot its name. It vanished after it delivered the killing blow to our leader. One strike.” Frail saw his eyes squinting, “-was a dismal sight. The field went silent when he died.”
The chieftain? His domain lord raised its head. What about him?
“Their chieftain sat outside and let the generals finish its job.” Grimright’s face sank, “-didn’t need to help.”
His story portrayed the invading force as an insurmountable force; one which even Frail’s best stood no chance of overcoming.
“It was… hopeless. Bleak.” Grimright confirmed Frail’s deductions, “Our previous conflict with another drifter group prevented us from stopping the ritual. We might have survived if we had more time and levels.” His palm turned to a shaking fist, “But here… we stand a better chance... with knowledge and ideas of what to expect. We didn’t know before—couldn’t plan for it. But this time… This time… it’ll be different.”
The two watched the skeletons and the other draugrs before his pedestal chamber.
“About the humans,” Grimright spoke, searching his domain Lord’s eyes, “What will you do? I admit; my emotions got the better of me. I shouldn’t have treated them the way I did.” He looked down, Frail saw his shoulders sinking, “-I should be better, lead with prudence and strength, not rage.”
The draugr lifted his head. “I am sorry, do not worry about our personal plights, I promise we will not get in your way.”
What about other entities? Frail wanted to ask, but lacked the necessary gestures to describe his thoughts. No… what about the orbs? He wanted more of those.
Grimright carefully watched his domain Lord’s gestures—it did what it could to represent a spherical object with its eldritch arms—then nodded. “The orbs… they came from the dungeons. I’ve been to one… they were well-hidden—the rewards within made it worth the while. In fact, this armor, this blade…” He gestured at his equipment, “These came from there. They belong to Thorgrim—our leader, but after his death… the others deemed it best I carry on his spirit. But that’s beside the point,” He returned his gaze to his allies, “If you wish to find the orbs, then you must seek dungeons.”
In short. Frail must leave the comfort of his domain to pursue those.
“Entity… about the humans. What is your decision? They seem confident in their leader… I will guess that he’s a chosen, too.”
Too? Meaning…
“Thorgrim was a chosen. Rightfully so.” Grimright sighed. “But… Having another chosen on our side is a tremendous boon… As long as he is alive, of course. Nobody is of use dead. I—no, we—will support whichever decision you come to; this is your home, after all, and we don’t have the luxury of choice.”
“No more corpses.” A female Draugr reported, her eyes darting between Grimright and his domain lord. “I see you’ve chatted. That’s good.” She flashed a worried smile.
What’s her name, again? Yrsa? Hers are hard to pronounce. Not that he could speak in the first place. Why are they scared of-
It took a while before he realized why they acted so sheepishly.
It wasn’t him that they feared.
It was his domain lord.
“Good.” Grimright nodded.
[Drain Essence]
[You gained 150 essences.] x 50
[You gained 300 essences.] x 15
[You gained 500 essences.] x 10
[You gained 800 essences.] x 8
[You gained 23,400 essences.]
[You now have 23,570 essences.]The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
A hefty chunk of essences seeped into his domain pedestal. Frail’s core shivered.
Corpse extractor… More.
[Corpse extraction complete. You gained 8100 essences.]
[You now have 31,670 essences.]
[Extraction summary]
[50x goblin recruit. Total essence: 2500]
[10x goblin mage. Total essence: 2000]
[15x goblin nightblade. Total essence: 1500.]
[7x goblin shaman. Total essence: 2100.]
Then the orb… his grave lancer approached, presenting him the essence orb.
Frail took no time to consume it.
[You now have 46,670 essences.]
One path lay in front of him.
The elite constructs. Three generals… Three elites. He questioned his elites’s might compared to the generals—Grimright’s retelling pictured a dismal future—but with the support of his domain lord and a few choice upgrades… He might tilt the odds to their favor.
One more question remained. How strong were the draugrs, actually? Frail struggled to draw an accurate comparison between them and his skeletons. Grimright and the others operated under a different power system, that much was clear, how different, though, was a question that remained unanswered. He had an inkling—theirs mirrored the systems of a typical RPG game, close to his construct’s status page—Harkon said it once before.
“We’ll head outside for a while.” Grimright spoke as he gathered his allies around him, “Best to earn some levels before the invasion comes—we stand a better chance that way.”
They have levels, too. Can’t forget that. Speaking of which… His domain lord held one arm up.
“Do you object?” Grimright turned around, “But-“
I want corpses. His domain lord pointed at the empty space where the carcasses used to be. Bring me some.
They can help me. I can help them.
“I... understand. You want corpses, right?” Grimright grinned. “We’ll bring back as many as we can.” The rest of the draugrs nodded along his statement.
One aspect the draugrs Frail liked, was their indifference toward dead bodies—something humans tended to avoid. Frail’s actions would’ve unsettled a majority of his old kind. However, with the recent light of events… their perspectives might have shifted.
He wouldn’t just let them help without taking an active part in his personal growth, so Frail dispatched a sizable amount of his warriors and archers to tag along. Mostly as couriers, but also to speed up their hunt, if their presence proved beneficial.
“You’ll follow us?” Grimright glanced at his roving army, “Or-”
The Domain Lord’s nod answered his inquiries.
“Well. Guess we won’t worry about dying today,” He laughed, “Fine by us. That means… Wait…” He turned toward another Draugr, “That… dungeon we came across on our way here, where was it again?”
“Far westward, a great distance from the river. About… thirty minutes if we walk fast.” He said. “That spot is far enough from the goblin army. We shan’t face them if we head that way.”
Thrain, Frail recalled the Draugr’s name. He had a small scar on his left chin. Other than that… he looked almost identical to Grimright.
“Ah. That. Now we have the numbers…” Grimright motioned his allies over, “What do you think?”
The Draugrs looked at each other, then the skeletons, then to Grimright. Frail sensed a hint of determination in their eyes, yet, their squint and the tension on their eyebrows implied their evident anxiety, too.
Frail never visited a dungeon… Well, the cave could technically count as one. Did a domain pedestal exist inside each? Or was the cave special?
“It’s a little risky… we may lose some of our strength before the invasion. Shall harm come to one of us…” Grimright spoke, looking at the floor. “The risk-“
Some risks must be taken. Frail wanted to say it out loud. Especially considering how grim our situation is. Being safe was one thing, being passive was another. Right now… he and the draugrs were erring on the passive end of the spectrum.
The system hadn’t lied about sudden goblin patrols; they had cleared today’s share, and frankly, his domain lord should be enough to fend off any stray goblin party. The draugrs’ actions reflected their crestfallen state; they had lost a lot in the span of days; their friends, their hopes, their leader… A chosen, nonetheless.
The dungeon... Why not bring all three?
Frail ordered his Grave Lancer to come forward.
“This soldier of yours…” Grimright said, his mouth agape, “Can he leave your domain?”
The lancer nodded. Frail could taste the confidence brimming in their eyes.
“Well…” He grinned, “This changes a lot…”
Not yet. His domain Lord stepped beside his lancer, urging the party to wait.
Success meant more essence. Let’s focus on clearing this dungeon first. And for that…
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Elite construct slot upgrade
Increases maximum elite construct limit.
-Grants +2 elite construct slot
Costs 10 000 essences. 2 upgrade slot.
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Trait upgrade - Undead legion
-Now affects elite-tier constructs.
Costs 15,000 essences. 5 upgrade slots.
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[You spent 25 000 essences.]
[You now have 21 670 essences remaining.]
Next…
Frail unlocked the rest of the elite constructs, each costing 6,000 essences—their unlocks, 4000 each plus their summoning, 2000—draining him a chunk of his hard-earned essences.
Two silvery blobs appeared in the center where his domain Lord resided. The Draugrs raised their eye when their shadow fell on them.
First; the Grave Guard. One word best portrayed what it looked like—A mammoth, grand shield with an equally sized knight standing behind it. It needed no blade. The shield was its sword. He thought the lancer was well-armored, the grave guard’s steadfast pieces of armor put that comparison to shame. No part of it was a weak point, even when one struck it from the back. To assault its front would be a… tremendous error in judgment.
The Grave Lich contrasted the juggernaut. It wore a modest set of clothes and regal clasps, wielding a golden-laden staff with a glowing jagged crystal exuding the word frost. Its presence alone froze the air around it; Frail saw snowflakes forming as it floated inches above the floor.
“Wh… What are those?” The Draugrs’ incredulous gazes flickered around his newest recruits, lingering slightly longer on his Grave Guard. Grimright, in particular, seemed befuddled.
Each step his guard took shook its vicinity. How heavy is the shield it’s carrying? If he saw its silhouette and nothing else, he’d see a gargantuan man lugging around a massive brick wall. It did move ponderously—but not so slow it took minutes to waddle through Frail’s domain, and markedly slower than its counterpart, the grave lancer.
“Will they come with us, too?” One of the Draugrs asked.
His domain lord nodded.
“You’re sure? What about your safety?” Grimright asked, concerned.
It’s a risk we should take. The best way to ensure further safety was to reap all the essences he could get. It’s now or never.
“Never mind,” He shifted his eyes aside, “I suppose you’re right. We’re not in the position to lay our arms and wait.”
It seemed Frail’s determination(and the desire for a ton of essences) reached them.
“That’s our cue, brothers.” Grimright pointed his blade at the exit. “We’ll make sure this excursion is a fruitful one.”
Frail’s first dungeon excursion… perhaps it’d be wise to purchase a few upgrades before leaving.