Within the lair of Heldan, the Necromancer paced back and forth, wrestling with his anger and pride in equal measure.

He felt betrayed. No matter what his Master said, he knew he wasn’t his pee and he knew he had been cut off so that the Master could save his skin. It did not matter. If he was on his own, it meant he could cut loose. He would no longer sit idly, watching and waiting. He could finally do things his way. No longer helping the old master extend his network of grubby, filthy, little spies. Now he could focus on true art. On his kind of necormancy.

He was an artist. A one-of-a-kind talent. He knew this, deep in his heart. Just as he knew he was a messenger of the true nature and deceit of Death herself. To others, this would seem like fanaticism. And they would be right, but Heldan did not understand it as such. He was simply better, and his fervor was granted to him by a God.

They had come down into his tunnels. They were hunting him for knowing the truth. For defying Death. They were coming for his life. ANd they had killed his gorgeous creation. He would have to retaliate eventually.

But he also knew that staying would be the death of him. If they had found his old Masters's sanctuary despite their precautions, then his lair was no doubt compromised. His mind warred between the idea of going into the tunnels and snuffing those pathetic lackeys of Death or simply cutting his losses. He moved deeper into his sanctuary, noting that the usually attentive myriad undead outside his sanctuary had gone feral, proving that his master had truly left his Sanctuary, cutting off the link between him and his many eyes and ears. That meant his former Master would be blind and unaware of his plans. With a growl and a grin that looked entirely unhinged, the young Necromancer slipped out of his robes and into something more fitting, making him look much like the average thug. He hadn’t been sure his contingency plans would work out, but thanks to the two thugs his creature killed, he knew of a second faction at play.

One he could use.

He ran two fingers around the grafted-on skin of his left shoulder. You couldn’t see any seems, any scarring from where he put it onto himself. To all but the most concerning of eyes, his shoulder seemed to be tattooed in the manner of all Nattulv members. As they left through a secret passage, they gave their sanctuary one last look before they pulled a lever. The large, rusty lever gave with a screeching noise before a louder creaking and groaning noise of metal slowly moving into place drowned it out. The old basin had not been used in quite a while, but the canals that diverted into had simply been fitted with old floodgates.

Soon enough, water began to pour into the basin. In less than an hour, it would have drowned the place and washed away all the evidence.

"This will work," He thought to himself.

This had to work.

***

"Does this work?" Saga held up a purple vial. They were not going to drink something that had been half-submerged in sewage, but the other two said the potions were Elemental Corruption Potions. The archer had been doped up on them to make his arrows even more potent.

With the revelation that their killers were members of some sort of Norse Maffia, Saga had no qualms about kneeling to loot the dead archer. HIs glassed over, dead eyes held only the ghost of terror and pain. There would be no judgment from the dead in this instance. As they had looted him, they had found that the only thing intact on his person seemed to be a few options. The man had been wearing a fine piece of mail and leather armor that had been punched through with ease.

"Where is his bow" Sasha wondered aloud and Saga's eyes scanned the tunnel before realizing that hIs bow had most likely been washed down along the underground sewer drain. Seeing a metal grate further down, they moved over to poke a spear into the water. After a little while, thy managed to fish out a short bow.

"Ugh. Looting in a sewer is the worst as they looked the bow over. Luckily they didn't have to touch it directly to get the guide to feeding them information about the thing."

[Silver Oak Shortbow: Mastercraft. Ranged. Bow. This bow is made from Silver Oak, a tree only found on the southern continent of Silverrike. It's a Mastercraft weapon, making it far more durable and easier to control.]

“Silverrike?” Saga turned to Sasha who looked at the bow with a ponderous expression.

“I think it's a small kingdom on the southernmost continent. Can't tell you more than that though. Never heard of Silveroakas as a material. ut I bet that thing is worth a pretty penny” Sasha said and Saga eyed the bow again.

"After we rinsed it with bleach maybe," Saga muttered, mostly to themselves. Since they were pretty sure industrial bleaching agents weren't invented in this world just yet. Instead, they pushed it into a leather bag that the woman had on her person, likely to help her loot Sasha and Saga should she have succeeded in her attempt at killing them. With the nasty loot in the leather sack, they tied it to the spear and carried it like a hobo stick. It looked somewhat ridiculous, but Saga had not stayed in this place long enough to have given up all notions of modern hygiene just yet.

Their journey up to the surface was slow but went without a hiccup. The three of them were all intense and at one point they had all brandished blades as the creak of metal and the sudden sound of rushing water came from one of the side tunnels. But they ignored it, thinking nothing of it after the initial sense of panic. When the three of them emerged back within the cellar of the Tavern where Saga and Sasha had dispatched a large batch of undead rats before, they were greeted by a city guard.

The man, a severe-looking, grizzled soldier, led them up the stairs with a nod, seemingly having expected them. As they entered the tavern proper again they saw the Oathsworn from before, her massive frame hard to miss. Agna was conversing in quiet tones with two priests, one of them a disciple of Nature, the other of Death. Upon seeing the state of the two and the hob being held in an iron grip by Sasha, she cut her conversation short with a nod and headed over to the two immediately. The two diciples in tow. Neither of them stood out to much, the diciple of nature wore all green robes and had a boyish face, he looked to be no older then 20. The deciple of death was a rather plain looking, blackhaired, pale man.

"I have news that is for your ears only." She said, eyeing the Hobgoblin. As she spoke, the Nature Priest with her moved to help Saga and Sasha. Without prompting, he began to pour healing magic into the two of them. While he was more powerful then Agusti when it came to healing, Saga could feel some of their worst injuries still ache. It seemed healing magic at this level could not instantly fix everything.

"Put this one in protective custody" Saga said as they nodded to the hobgoblin. When the two didn't quite understand what they meant they sighed yet again and explained. "They are kind of a criminal, but we need them alive" Saga explained and Agna's eyes immediately grew sharp and judging, staring down at the Hobgoblin who silently let themselves be led away.

When she returned, she ushered them to the tavern's kitchen. The place smelled of herbs and spices and it would have been an "It appears that other Deathsworn struck at a necromancer's lair not far from here. And they think that Necromancers had an accomplice within the city, feeding him information." The severe-looking woman said as Sasha and Saga shared a look.

"Rats?"

"From what I hear, he was the one who been collecting the myriad undead."

"We were attacked by something else, a constructed undead." Saga thought back at the horror that almost killed them both.

"I don't know the details. But sounds like that one might have belonged to the other necromancer maybe?" Sasha said.

"Is the hobgoblin associated with them?" She asked as she leaned against a robust, oaken table. Arms crossed and fixed Saga with a questioning look. Saga shook their head.

"No. We had a run-in with some Nattulv members," Saga said, putting down the bag with the filthy belongings, feeling a bit bad about sullying the kitchen with it. But the owner was dead and they had seen a water barrel in the corner. Anga glanced back to where the hobgoblin was being watched by two city guards.

"I see why you wanted us to watch that one if they are involved." Anga seemed deep in thought, the new information was clearly troubling her. As she looked up again, she asked the two the very question that plagued the both of them. "Why would they go after us. Were they working with Necromancers?"

"No. We engaged a undead creature down there after the thing killed one of them. The other was fighting alongside us to try and take it down. So unless there was double-cross there, they had no idea about the necromancer and the undead."

"Then we need to find out who wants you dead and why." Agna said, looking to the Hobgoblin. Agusti looked to the three of them, noticing how the three of them all looked the shamans way. "And I know where to to start."

***

Jasper looked around nervously. His throat felt dry and he had not been allowed to drink a single drop of wine for two days now. He looked to the large door, seeing the two large thugs guarding it. The door soon swung open and a woman with a vicious smile stepped in.

"Is the bitch dead?" Jasper asked, getting to his feet. The woman stared him down before she shook her head. "No. They came out the sewers alive."

"Then what do we do?"

"We? We do nothing. You? You go back home and wait for our word."

"You are going to kill them, right?"

"We already lost two of the best hitters we had within the city limits. We have to lay low."

"This wasn't part of the deal..."

"Be patient." The woman said again, her voice picking up a steely edge.

"You branded me." Jasper said, venom and anger dripping from every word he spoke as he rubbed the still sore spot on his chest.

"And you got to sleep around and drink at our establishments for free for a day after. Be Patient. Or Dead. Your choice." She answered and gave Jasper a look of utter disdain. That only made him angrier.

Jasper kept staring daggers at her but she simply shrugged it off. As she turned around to leave, Jasper moved to stop her. He put his on her shoulder, but she spun on him with lightning speed. Caught off guard, he was about to say something when she smashed the butt of her dagger into his nose. He jowled in pain, staggering back as she turned away from him once more. He cradled his nose, thankful it hadn't broken this time around, cowering on the other side of a table, all anger and bravado pushed back and and smothered by fear.

As his caretaker slipped out, he heard her talk to someone. Shortly after one of the thugs left, only to be replaced by a young elven man with cold, cruel eyes. He smiled at Jasper and Jasper felt his soul grow cold. Something was wrong with this man, he knew as much as a Broker.

He had to get out of there.