The courtyard was in chaos. It wasn’t huge, barely twenty yards across. Surrounding it were long forgotten ruins of some kind of walls. What was most important, it was packed full of dwarves fighting skeletons. The animated bones of all sorts of humanoids, some that Horn didn’t recognize, were pushing hard against a line of his warriors. They held old clothing and armor remnants, looking more like rags than anything useful, armed with rusted weapons, stones, or even just punched his warriors. However, a hundred or more were in the courtyard, and they kept pouring in through the gaps in the walls.

Horn’s dwarves were holding steady. Spread in a semicircle with their backs to him and a massive wooden door next to him. They hacked, slashed, and smashed, but the undead didn’t care. They just pushed. What he found strange was the lack of his champions among the warriors. He saw his sergeants and adepts out there but no Goran, Ingrid, or Sigrid.

Horn ran towards the line, casting a Fire strike towards a large group of skeletons. He reached the frontline just as an inferno erupted from his open palm. The spell hungrily jumped on the undead, burning a few to the crisp and damaging more. The flames seemed to turn alive, trying to get to the undead, their holy magic wanting to purge the abominations. The vortex of fire kept spinning, and more skeletons just walked into it, their undead bodies knowing no fear.

As the inferno began to die down, Horn was already in the fray. He threw mana into Blessed weapons, choosing the five nearest warriors. Soon, the axes and hammers flashed with a golden hue, crushing and slashing the bones without any visible resistance. His axe joined the slaughter.

His warriors began shouting to each other, “Chieftain is here!”; “Lightforge!” and attacked with renewed vigor. Horn between swings started to create the party, adding firstly his sergeants, who brought in their own parties, and then filling the remaining slots with anyone in sight. Soon there were over forty fighters in his party.

The fight continued for a few minutes. The tide of undead seemed endless, and his warriors were getting tired. Horn saw one on them overextending, only to be swarmed by a group of the undead. Before anyone could reach him, he slumped dead to the ground. But then, Horn began noticing that the number of skeletons pouring in began to decline. Slowly but surely, they started winning. He kept pumping out mana into Cure wounds and Fire strikes until he was completely drained.

The mop-up took a few more minutes, but then it was over. Horn looked around. His warriors didn’t seem to relax. Groups went out into the gaps in the walls, while Vir, one of the dwarves he delved into the dungeon for the first time, approached, “Chieftain, git to see ya!”

“Same here, Vir. What’s going on? Where’s Goran?”

“Ay, the Cap'n, took a squad an' went oot. The boar lady did the same.” He replied.

“They did what?”

“Ay, they told us to hold th’ fort and left.”

“What the hell?” Horn almost shouted, then taking a breath, he added, “Start at the beginning. What happened?”

“Ay. Wir stepped thro’ th’ tower door, thin we appeared out ther’. Ya, and th’ cap, boar ladie and th’ bookworm, jist stood ther’. We tried everything to git ya moving, bit ya didn’t react. So th’ Sergeant Rockbitter said we had to find a shelter. Gavin, th’ sneak, found this castle, so we picked ya up on a wagon and marched in here. Ther’ were some bonnies on th’ way, bit not many. We’re entered th’ keep, and then th’ quest appeared.”

“What quest?” Horn asked but already noticed there was the familiar emerald blinking in the corner of his vision.

New quest: The cycle of undeath

You came across a cult of necromancers that found a forgotten Soul Well. They wanted to use it to summon an unstoppable army of soul wraiths. However, their attempt was foiled by one of the last Gryphons alive. The mighty beast made a nest in the top level of the old keep, waiting for her children to hatch. The necromancers worked a long time to overcome that challenge, spreading throughout the valley and raising their hosts of the undead. They worked on a ritualistic curse to weaken, kill and corrupt the mighty guardian. Your tribe arrived just after the ritual. The guardian is dying, but with her last strength, she activated the Soul Well to summon new defenders. The undead army is on its way. Protect the Soul Well until the summoning finishes, destroy the cult and save the last Gryphons’ hatchlings.

Objective: Defend the Soul Well for 6 hours, 51 minutes, and 14 seconds or find and kill Necromancers. Progress: 2/12

Bonus objective: Protect at least half of Gryphon’s eggs. Progress 15/15

Failure: Allow the necromancers to complete a ritual at the Soul Well.

Reward: New clan members (wave 3/5), Hidden

Bonus reward: Friendship of the young Gryphons, Blueprint for Gryphon’s Nest – Tier 4 building

Finishing reading, he refocused on Vir, who was patiently waiting. “Okay, so what’s with the progress on this quest?”

“Ay, so as we came hir, th’ boar ladie woke up. She read th’ quest and went up th’ keep, telling us to fortify. So we did thit. She came back a whil later and said to prepare to fight, took two squads of riders, and set off. Th’ undead hit us half an hour later, and it was bloody. We lost git men, but we’ve held. Then, after th’ attack th’ Soul Well flashed, and they came out of it,” Vir said, pointing at one of the walls. There a dozen of unknown dwarves were hauling stones to fill the gap. Horn didn’t recognize any of them, but they were led by an elderly one, with wrinkles covering his whole face, snow-white beard, or it would be if not splashes of mud on it, he had a single large golden earing and a chain made out of some black stone on his neck. He was dressed in a leather apron, held and a quarterstaff with a golden knob at one end. The remaining dwarves wore similar aprons, but without any accessories. Each was hauling rocks and muttering something.

“Who are they?” Horn asked,

“Th’a's mister Yellowrock and his students,” Vir replied like it told everything.

Horn just sighed, “Fine, whatever, I’ll talk with them later. So they just came out of the portal, and what? Joined you?”

“Ay, tha’s the jist of that. A short while after the Cap'n, woke up. He saw the quest, an' talked wi’ the officers, and the new guys. Then took a while to climb the tower took a squad wi’ him an' left. Jist as he left, the quest updated wi’ a dead necro.”

Horn started to get annoyed both on Vir and his barely understandable speech and on his champions doing god knows what out there, but he focused back on the story, as the dwarf continued,

“So, the skellies came back fer another poundin'. The new guys helped, as the mister summoned those rocky fellas. We kicked their asses and then the Soul thingy spewed another group.”

“Who, and where are they?”

“Ay, they're inside wi' the rest. A mighty great family, I tell ye, they're the most important clan now. We’ll protect them till the last o' us stand,” Vir answered,

“Wait, but who are they?”

“The Innkeeper and his family, his sons 're brewers and their ale is the best I've had!”

Horn facepalmed, “Yea, yea, that’s the spirit. Anything else?”

“Ay, the bookworm woke up, an' she talked a lot wi' the newcomers, an' then she went up the tower. Came back a few minutes later, took a wee mo' tae write summat down, an' left it fer ye. Then she took the Rockbitter and the other sneak and left.”

“What sneak? Who’s Rockbitter? Where’s the letter? I swear if you don’t stop missing details, I’ll …” Horn shouted, losing his temper and taking a step towards Vir.

“Aye, Chief, Rockbitter is one o' thy sergeants, and the sneak is one of thy scouts, ye ken the ones tha' scouted the goblin hamlet. The letter should be inside wi' Cornic, the scribe.” The dwarf replied, backing off.

“Finally!” Horn just barked and went towards the massive oaken door leading into the ruined keep. He heard from behind, “Ay, th’ new guys should be coming any moment now!”

The door let him into a massive hall. The bricked walls had seen better days, with mortar and pieces of stone on the ground. There were even holes in the ceiling, through which Horn saw rooms upstairs. The walls were decorated with remains of wall rugs. Just pieces of fabric remained. Two massive fireplaces were lit, filling the room with light and a smell of burned wood. It mixed with the old dust and moisture in the air, creating a unique scent. Adding on top of that, a few scores of dwarves that lingered everywhere created an incredible view.

Old tables must have been brought in. The trails of pulled wood on the ground suggested so. Almost each was different than the other. The clan was spread within the hall, resting, eating, even crafting. He saw his smiths hammering an old piece of metal. Finally, in the middle of the room, the familiar arch of Soul Well towered over the crowd. However, something wasn’t exactly right. It seemed different – smaller. The original one in the tutorial cave was at least thirty feet high. This one wasn’t even a third of that. It was big enough for an ogre to squeeze through, but not more.

He approached the portal, touching the runes,

Congratulations! You have claimed Soul Well – Tier 1.

You currently control: 1 Soul Well – Tier 1

Summon capacity at: 99 / 150

Unlocked summons: High Dwarves, Basic Warbeasts, Domesticated Animals

Current clan Essence: 46129

A quest reward is being summoned, you have 28 seconds to decide, or a choice will be made randomly.

Possible rewards:

Grom’s builder crew – 1 Architect, 2 Constructors, 7 Builder dwarves Reiror’s defenders – 1 Sergeant, 4 Shield bearers Bammic’s smithy – 1 Armorer, 3 Smiths, 4 Apprentice Nekrum’s wonder emporium – 1 Trader, 4 Haulers, 2 Shopkeepers Herrak’s free adventurers – 1 Shield bearer, 1 Pathfinder, 1 Adept, 1 Aquamancer, 1 Warblade Yellowrock’s stone circle – 1 Geomancer, 12 Students – Already summoned Bismar’s Inn – 1 Bartender, 3 Maids, 2 Brewers, 1 Cook – Already summoned

The countdown was already in the final ten seconds as he stopped absorbing the information. His sight flew over the options, “Need fighters to combat the undead. Traders are out, same with smiths and builders. So defenders or adventurers.” He scanned the classes and made his choice.

The arch came alive, the portal began spinning, and a group of dwarves arrived. Surprisingly they came out fully geared. First, a tank - holding a tower shield, a slab of metal of almost his size. Then a pathfinder in heavy leathers, with a crossbow at hand, a bandolier of small axes over his chest, and two short swords in sheaths. Behind him, another one with chainmail, a warhammer at hand, and a big golden necklace on his chest. The fourth came out in bluish robes with two wands, one in each hand, and finally an armored fighter with a twohanded-axe.

“Welcome. Which one of you is Herrak?” Horn asked,

The tank took a step forward and replied, “That’ll be me. You must be Chieftain Skysmith?”

“Yep, I’m surprised you know that.”

“We were visited by Victoria, who offered us this chance. She explained who you are, and we heard you have an undead problem. Just point us in the direction.”

“Wait for a second. Who’s Victoria?”

The dwarf with the necklace came forward and replied, “No one else than the Goddess of warriors! All that follow her will join her mighty host to fight in the golden halls. All praise, Victoria!”

“Uh-hm, so you talked with a Goddess, okay. Great. Report to the fighters outside and join the defenses. The undead will be coming again shortly.”

“With all the respect, chief, we won’t be doing that. We are free adventurers, not clan warriors. There has to be a source of the scourge, and we’ll find and eliminate it.” Herrak said, nodding politely.

“What?” Horn exclaimed, “Aren’t you here to join the Lightforge?”

“No, we’re here to help you, and we were promised a second chance on the Nexus after that. We will probably align with you temporarily, but we won’t take a pledge.”

“What pledge?”

“A fealty pledge, didn’t your dwarves take one?”

“Errr,” Horn stuttered,

“Hah, a Chieftain you are.” Herrak laughed, “You should ask for it. That’ll give you some kind of protection. Unless you want to give your clan the option to leave at any moment. Now, we’ll take some provisions and get going. Good luck, and hopefully, see you soon.”

They left, leaving Horn dumbstruck. A fealty pledge? Aligned, but not a part of the clan. So now he had to convince his dwarves to stay with him? The hell was happening. He let his mind wander for a bit, but there were things to finish up here. He waved one of his warriors to pass the message. He needed a count of his forces. He went looking for his scribe and saw him writing something. As usual, he and his surroundings were covered in spilled ink. It took Horn a while to get his attention and explain about the letter. But finally, he had it in hand.

Chieftain,

If you’re reading this, it means I’m not yet back. The challenge ahead of us seems a straightforward one – eliminate necromancers to end fighting. Ingrid and Goran received quests of their own, one that they had to finish to let the clan survive. I was also given my own personal challenge, to infiltrate the enemies’ lair. Without it, we cannot win. That’s what I’m doing. If you didn’t, then talk with the guardian. You’ll understand more.

And Horn, thank you.

Sparrow

“Huh,” Horn summarized the letter. He was interrupted a moment later by one of his sergeants approaching. He gave him a quick summary. They were down to twenty warriors in the castle. Ingrid took eight with her, Goran took another five, and Sigrid two. Another twelve perished in attacks. In the end, he was left with a little bit over a third of what he came into the challenge with. Cursing, he went back to the Soul Well to spend his whole Essence reserve on new warriors.

However, here he found an unpleasant surprise. The menus were gutted. He could summon almost anything in the tutorial, and now he had access only to some dwarves and animals. Still, that was exactly what he needed, and a moment later, a column of two dozen warriors exited the portal. It left him with ten thousand in the bank. He was surprised at his total amount, but it just reinforced the heavy fighting his clan went through during his absence.

The freshly summoned dwarves gathered around him. They were under-leveled and without gear, but there wasn’t anything else he could do for them. His sergeants hopped right on top of the fresh recruits, which allowed Horn to head upstairs to the Guardian.

The keep seemed to almost fall apart on touch. It was in a state of total disarray. Loose bricks cluttered the floors, the wind was howling through empty corridors, and remains of old furniture were turning into dust under the slightest push. Horn climbed three floors and reached another quite large hall. Inside he saw the guardian. The creature was curled around a clutch of large eggs, each two feet wide. The shells were turquoise with emerald spots.

Around them, in a defensive posture, was a once majestic creature. Its state was one of misery, with large gashing wounds, dried blood, and sap seeping out of them. The animal was one out of myths – a true Gryphon. The muscular lion’s body ended with an eagle head. Two massive wings, now in tatters, spurted from the sides. Each paw ended with wickedly sharp talons. Even now, Horn could see grooves in the floor. And the beak itself looked like it could pierce a full plate armor without a second thought. The upper part of the creature was covered in long bluish feathers, which ended somewhere just behind the front paws. The rest was clad in soft fur, or so he thought as the creature looked terrible.

As he entered the room, the Guardian raised its head. The slight movement had to tire it out as the head began wobbling. However, a deep blue eye pierced Horn, scanning every inch of him, and then he heard a voice or rather felt a voice as nothing was said aloud.

”I welcome thee in this dire time. I’m Raunichribald, the last Guardian of these lands. Thy arrival was foretold, and thy task is a difficult one.”

“Welcome, the mighty Guardian,” Horn replied aloud, deciding to play it a bit over the line, “How can I help you?”

”Thou canst not. My time is almost up. For generations, my kind defended these lands until we were fooled by those who now want to destroy us. However, not all is lost. My clutch is about to hatch, and they will need protection. Prove thyself, and I shall entrust thee with them. The evil cannot take hold of this place, defeat them, or protect the artifact until it runs out of power. This is thy task and thine alone. Thy champions came earlier but were deeply disturbed by the recent events. Being a Guardian of the land isn’t just about the land, but also about all the creatures in it. So I’ve sent them to find their resolutions, to prove to themselves their place in this world.”

“Uhh, your wisdom is great. I’ll pray for their safe return,” Horn replied slowly, trying to make it sound somewhat sincere. He was boiling. So after saving their asses, the game sends them away? With almost half of his forces? To hell with this quest. Taking a breath, he added, “And what about you? Can we heal you? What happened?’

“My story is about to come to an end. The mages cursed me in a powerful ritual that poisons both my body and soul. My mate tried to fend them off but failed to do so, paying with his life. I’m not far behind. I sense the corruption trying to overcome me, and soon it will succeed. Farewell, Chieftain, and good luck to all of us.”