Chapter 212: The Temple of Aman Rak

Troll culture has remained essentially unchanged for the entirety of recorded history. To an outsider, their culture may appear brutal, tribal, and primitive – authority is established through violence and domination, individuals adorn themselves with warpaint and tattoos and live in rustic huts in the wilds. However, Troll society possesses an overwhelming richness of history, magic, and tradition. The most important factors driving their culture’s extraordinary stability are the fact that their powerful innate regeneration renders them effectively immune to death from natural causes – and a substantial portion of the unnatural ones – and that almost all Trolls are born with potent magical bloodlines. In fact, the rare Trolls that are born without magical affinity are considered deformed and many tribes will discard or dispose of them with barbaric rituals.

While they are not particularly numerous, a tribe of near-immortal magical beings has little need for the normal mundane trappings of a civilization. Trolls living in their huts, or primitive-seeming city-kingdoms are much more at home relying on their magic in natural settings than in the cities and sophisticated dwellings of other races. Nevertheless, a Troll tribe is a potent force, well capable of defending their territory against incursions and invaders.

- Excerpt from Cultures of the Modern-Day Kingdoms by Evanna Quillmore the Scribe.

Calen

Calen leapt to his feet as Lyeneru burst into the Pathfinders Guild Hall, bringing a gust of fresh outside air, laden with the scent of the Ciradyl trees and fresh forest growth. Malika and Mato glanced up from their conversation on the couch, while Ali put the finishing touches on her recording of Ciradyl’s teleportation locus in her notebook.

Elves glanced up or scrambled out of her way in a rippling wake as the Legendary Pathfinder strode across the room with purpose.

“Aah, good, you’re all here,” Lyeneru said. “We leave immediately. The council has instructed us to provide any aid we are able to offer to defend Aman Rak. Our primary objective is to learn the fate of the Telim Gor delegation. I assume you can all fly?”

“I can’t,” Mato said, raising his hand.

“I’ll carry him,” Ali answered.

“Good, let’s go,” Lyeneru said.

They flew north and west, leaving Ciradyl behind, following the jagged snow-covered peaks of the mountains of Dol Kerriadh. Lyeneru led them high above the verdant jungle that covered much of the lowlands between the mountains and the Gulf of Serenity, trying to ensure they didn’t provoke any monster attacks from below but, even though Calen flew beside the Legendary Pathfinder herself, he still kept a sharp eye out, taking in everything as they passed.

He noted signs of plentiful game below the canopy, waterways, and isolated settlements. From this height, Calen could even see the blue expanse of the gulf beyond the edge of the peninsula. All was quiet and peaceful as they flew, and nothing disturbed their passage.

It was a couple of hours into the flight that his sharp vision picked out rough stone buildings high up the mountains, nestled among the peaks and ridges. “What is that?”

“Telim Gor,” Lyeneru answered, identifying the settlement. “Home of the Ice Trolls. Tol’zerath’s kingdom. Legend says it has stood there since the first age.”

“Sages from Telim Gor would visit us in Dal’mohra sometimes,” Ali said. “They came to lecture on history or to use the library for research.”

“It’s really high up,” Calen said, noting the location, and automatically estimating the number of buildings and huts as they passed by. It was by no means a small settlement – while it was difficult to compare, he guessed the population might even be close to that of the huge Wood Elf city of Ciradyl.

“Most are born with bloodlines aligned with ice affinities – they find it more comfortable up there among the snowy peaks than down in the muggy lowlands,” Lyeneru explained. “It will be the reverse when we reach Aman Rak.”

They passed the icy troll kingdom from afar, not finding any reason to go out of their way, and after it had been long past, Calen’s attention returned to the aborted archery class earlier in the afternoon. His thoughts did not dwell on Malanior’s hate and prejudice though, but something Nendir had said, an echo of Lyeneru’s earlier comments.

“Lyeneru, why is it that you and Nendir care so much about my confidence?” he asked. Lyeneru remained silent for so long after his question that was sure he must have offended her somehow, but eventually, she turned and studied him with a piercing look.

“Being a Pathfinder isn’t just about your personal skills and class level,” she said, her voice level, betraying no annoyance at answering his question. “A Pathfinder is a symbol of strength and leadership, one that people instinctively look up to. To truly progress, you must embody those ideals. When you show up on the battlefield, often your confidence, knowledge, and leadership will save more lives than your bow.”

“I see,” he said. Calen considered her words in silence. What she said made sense, and she embodied exactly what she had just described. When Calen had first seen her, he had been in awe of her status and reputation as a legendary Pathfinder, even before he knew who she was. He would have followed her without question, had she required it – and he knew most people would have done the same. It was an intimidating presence to try and emulate.

“You have time,” she added, cracking a small grin, as if she had read his mind and understood his hesitation. “But it’s also the main reason Nendir was so concerned with how fast you’re leveling your class. You’re rapidly outgrowing your education and your skill levels. In the Pathfinders Guild, there is a policy to keep class level progressing slowly while focusing more on well-rounded education, especially at the novice and initiate levels.”

“That explains why Coria only gained a single level since my last visit,” Calen said, connecting the dots. It was a safe policy – a conservative one – and he understood why they would insist upon it. Elves were long-lived and had few children – the idea of losing a life was perhaps even more traumatic to them than it was to the shorter-lived humans.

“Yes, she is training hard,” Lyeneru said. “It’s the reason she surpasses your bow skills in technique, despite your higher level.”

It’s not like we had much choice, though, he thought considering their progress. Granted, they could have ignored the Emberforge Mines for a few years while honing their skills, but they were almost as likely to die to an assassin in Myrin’s Keep as they were deep underground facing monsters. Well, perhaps not so much now that they’d reached gold rank, but still. He had to admit the implied rebuke stung a little but, he reminded himself, a forest might be traversed by many pathways. Her wisdom did not suggest stopping progress, but argued for balance.

They flew further north until he began to see the distant pillars of miasma rising from the blighted forest, and he recognized they were approaching the northern reaches of the Troll kingdoms and the southern border of New Daria – the same area he had been sent to scout.

“There it is,” Lyeneru said, pointing northward and down toward the verdant green jungle. “Aman Rak. It seems intact.” Although her tone was level, Calen detected a note of relief in her voice – like she had been braced for something far more terrible. The miasma of the death dungeon was still only visible in the distance, and everything below where Lyeneru pointed was verdant and green still, untouched by the dread blight.

Calen surveyed the Troll kingdom, a ragged collection of huts and stone buildings nestled among the trees and overgrowth. It sprawled out from the mountainous cliffs it was nestled up against, extending deep into the jungle, making it quite hard to estimate a good size for it. But according to his eyes, it was at least as large as the Telim Gor kingdom they had passed. At the top of the cliffs, he spied an ornate temple constructed from heavy rust-colored sandstone blocks and what looked like the bones of a monstrous leviathan or dragon.

“The mana looks… strangely twisted,” Ali said, squinting her eyes.

Lyeneru’s jaw tightened at once. “Is that so?”

Calen scanned the temple and the surroundings, his eyes catching on something odd. A large section of the jungle had been cleared away recently, leaving a wide scar when everywhere else, the city-kingdom blended with nature instead of ripping it away. Assembled within the scar, he could make out the ranks of figures standing like statues. Figures that ranged in color from red through dark gray to green-toned skin. Gleaming tusks protruded from their mouths and their powerful three-fingered hands grasped weapons of many kinds.

But it was the stillness that caught his attention.

“Something is wrong,” Calen said, pointing as the skin on the back of his neck starting to prickle. “They aren’t moving.”

Lyeneru’s gaze snapped toward the ranks of the Aman Rak warriors, studying them intently. It wasn’t just that they weren’t walking around or talking; even from this distance, Calen should have been able to see them breathing. That was when he started noticing the signs of decay upon their bodies and the tautness of their skin – and suddenly he knew what had prickled his instincts.

“Zombies!” he gasped.

“We’re too late,” Lyeneru said in a flat voice. “Be on your guard. With me.”

Lyeneru spiraled down, taking them lower and lower until they were skirting the tops of the trees, making their presence harder to spot from the ground. Calen followed close behind, feeding his Eclipse to blur his presence as she led them toward the mountainous cliffs and the pass filled with the larger important-looking stone buildings and lush jungle vegetation.

“This is the temple. If anyone survived, they will be here,” Lyeneru said as she alighted on the ground where a simple trail led up through the trees to the pass.

Calen took several steps forward and almost bumped into Lyeneru as she suddenly stopped cold.

[Explorer] You have entered a dungeon.

The Temple of Aman Rak – level ??
Affinity: Blood, Bone.
Age: New.
Known Creatures: Troll.
Known Bosses: --
Dungeon

Your actions have increased the reputation of your patron.

A dark shadow swirled up ahead.

Ali screamed.

A heavy dark bolt shot from the shadow, sizzling as it slammed into Lyeneru’s chest, knocking her coughing and choking to the ground.

And then the familiar wave of unholy dread crashed through Calen’s heart as a sepulchral figure floated out from the dense overgrowth. His crimson runic blindfold gleamed brightly in the dim light as an unnatural twilight descended upon the forest. A clawed, twisted hand rose like a petrified tree limb, protruding from the wide cuffs, blazing with dark energy.

Calen could not even breathe.

For a moment, he was sure Lyeneru was going to die right there, the second titanic bolt already tearing across the shaded trail, aimed for her head. But she gritted her teeth, releasing a wordless scream of rage. A cascade of fire and lightning burst from her and she vanished, suddenly appearing above the trees, bow drawn with a scowl of pure determination etched upon her features. Without hesitation, Lyeneru unleashed an onslaught of arrows, ripping, tearing, and exploding among the trees, obscuring the Lich’s presence in the sudden storm of magic.

Lyeneru glanced at him, and Calen knew instinctively what she required from him without even a word being spoken. With a howl of flame and a torrent of sparks, she took off, and the evil grasp of the Blind Lich released him as Nevyn Eld gave chase.

Calen shivered, his legs giving out at the suddenness of the removal of the Lich’s dread aura, and he crashed to the ground.

“F… fuck,” Malika whispered. “Everyone alright? Ali?”

Ali stood beside her, trembling uncontrollably.

“We don’t have much time,” Calen said, struggling to keep his voice from cracking. “She’s drawn him away. We need to investigate the temple before he returns.”

Aliandra

Ali picked herself up off the damp jungle floor, still trembling like a leaf from the sudden shock of stumbling into Nevyn Eld up close and unprepared, her senses wracked and shaken by the devastating aura of fear and dread that clung to him like an ominous second shadow. Up ahead, along the path where the Blind Lich had emerged from the jungle, she saw the still-smoking remains of trees and undergrowth, and the impact craters of the insane fire and lightning magic Lyeneru had unleashed upon him in the violent intensity of their brief clash.

“Are you ok, Ali?” Malika asked again, looking nearly as shaken as she felt.

“I wasn’t ready… for that,” Ali admitted. It was always a challenge to fly with her minions, and Ryn had not been able to transport much more than just her and Mato to the truly magnificent Ciradyl Grand Library, so she had been caught flat-footed outside her dungeon with none of her minions available to defend her, and no enhancements from her magical buff skills. It was a mistake, and one she resolved never to make again. She shouldn’t have made it this time. I know better.

“It’s ok, he’s gone,” Mato said, helping her up.

Ali dusted herself off, glancing about, heart still hammering behind her sternum. The Lich and Lyeneru’s clash had shaken the forest like thunder, and although they were most certainly a long way off by now, she worried about the ranks of undead in the remains of the troll city behind them. But, after a few moments passed in silence, she decided that somehow, miraculously, they had not been heard and it seemed like they would not be immediately swarmed.

But as soon as she had finished the thought, Calen called out a low warning.

“Something is coming,” he whispered, his eyes surprisingly intent on the path ahead that led up the mountain pass to what had to be the rest of the Temple of Aman Rak rather than back toward the ranks of the waiting undead army. The path that led deeper into the dungeon.

“What is it?” Malika asked, her voice pitched low.

“Undead,” Mato said. “I can smell them.”

Ali searched the thick press of entwined tree branches, the rampant overgrown vines and bushes, and the choking weight of abundant moss and orchids along the winding dirt path for what Calen had seen, reaching automatically for the senses of her minions to help her search, only to be abruptly reminded that she hadn’t brought any. The path and the jungle ahead were steeped in pervasive dense mana – a familiar jagged, somehow sharp-edged, dark gray mana entwined with a dense viscous red that twisted in fluid-like tendrils and ribbons, binding together in a structure and pattern she had never seen before – forming something that could only be…

A dungeon’s domain.

The dark gray mana was sharper, denser, and stronger than the bone-affinity mana from the Ruins of Dal’mohra dungeon they had defeated so long ago, but without a doubt, it was the same affinity. The dense viscous red was the same blood-affinity mana that flowed in her Abyssal Stalkers and Vampire Hornets, and the many other demonic denizens of the Abyssal Realm, only without the demonic traits or hellfire aspect.

Then she saw it. Ali didn’t see the skeletons at first, but the death mana that animated them was unmistakable, clashing against the structured backdrop of the domain. An ominously dense black core that bound the animating necromancy to the pile of dead troll bones – a mana that was distinct and separate from the dungeon itself. Two tall, stooped skeletons shuffled their way along the jungle path, breaking into a shambling, clacking run the moment they saw Mato shifting into his Bear Form. They had clearly once been trolls, standing a head taller than Mato in Beastkin form or Calen, even with their hunched posture. The three-toed feet and three-fingered hands gave away their original race just as clearly as the large tusks protruding from their skeletal jaws.

Warrior – Troll Skeleton – level 41-43 x2

Mato’s roar signaled the beginning of the battle as he crashed into the undead minions of the Lich and Ali suddenly found herself thrust into combat with no minions at her disposal. She didn’t even have her old Arcane Bolt spell – all she could do was fire sharpened shards of barrier magic. But her barrier shards passed through the gaps between the bones of the skeletons more often than not, doing almost no damage.

“I need minions,” Ali said.

“Make them,” Calen said, his bow striking a regular twanging rhythm. “We can cover you. Quick.”

Mato had both skeletons locked on him, and between him and Malika it seemed that he was not in any danger of dying. However, without the Healer’s Sight skill of her Acolytes, Ali was unable to get an accurate sense of his health. All she could tell was that his restoration magic was running at full power, and he was filling the battlefield with roots and brambles that twisted and twined around ankle bones and legs.

He's fine, Ali thought, deciding that she could rely on Malika to keep him alive for the moment. She opened her Grimoire mid-battle and began summoning, using her leftover mental capacity to keep up her ineffective barrier shard attacks. The first thing she summoned was an Acolyte of Azryet, and the instant it appeared, she slipped her awareness into its senses, confirming that indeed Mato was healthy.

“Another skeleton is coming,” Calen announced. At his words, Ali glanced up and identified another dense knot of death magic approaching through the trees.

“I can heal Mato now, Malika,” Ali said, letting Malika focus on punching and kicking instead of healing so much. Quickly, she chose her Acolyte as her first target for Empowered Summoner, and her mana pool instantly expanded. It felt like a good stretch first thing in the morning, reminding her just how cramped she was without her full capacity. It was just her maximum mana that expanded – she would still need to regenerate it all to full – but it still felt like coming home.

She summoned a Hellfire Imp next and enhanced her intelligence attribute using it while still keeping a close eye on the fight. Several more skeletons had already emerged from the forest, shambling out into the open one by one, but she was ready to make some combat minions. At least, ones that wouldn’t blow up her friends with hellfire.

Almost by instinct, she found herself turning to the Kobold Fire Mage imprint – the last time she had fought the undead, she had found blowing them up to be the most effective.

What are you doing, Ali? she told herself. You have dragons!

Changing tack, she flipped to the Dragon imprint and summoned an Armored Drake. The majestic, crimson-scaled beast appeared, filling the entire pathway. Grass and nearby leaves singed from the ambient heat of its mere presence. It fixed her with a piercing gaze and let out a low rumbling growl.

“Kill the undead,” she commanded, sending it charging into the fray, and instantly the tide of the battle turned.

“Now that’s a fantastic choice,” Calen said. Neither Ali’s barrier magic nor Calen’s arrows were particularly suited to killing animated skeletons, so till now it had just been Malika and Mato who were having an impact. But as soon as her drake charged in, it knocked one skeleton flying, breathed fire on the rest, and unleashed a devasting cleave with its talons that sent bone splinters flying with explosive force.

Ali left it to its own devices, idly eavesdropping on Mato’s conversation with it as the two of them coordinated tactics, and concentrated on her magic. After a while, the battle ebbed to a close leaving a pile of smoking bones amid the receding vines, but Ali didn’t stop summoning. She didn’t want to be caught feeling useless and vulnerable again. Mato’s roots and vines reminded her that they were outside in a jungle, and she could use her Forest Guardian once again.

Armored Drake – Dragon – level 68 (Fire)
Forest Guardian – Elemental – level 50 (Nature)
Hellfire Imp – Demon – level 55 (Hellfire)
Abyssal Stalker – Demonic Spider – level 45 (Blood) x2
Hellfire Warg – Demonic Wolf – level 53-55 (Hellfire) x2
Warrior – Hobgoblin – level 43-44 x2
Acolyte of Azryet – Kobold – level 21-23 (Holy) x4

Your reserved mana has increased by +2271.

With all her minions back home, Ali’s total mana reservation shot up to well over nine thousand, but that still left her with a comfortable four thousand mana free to work with. She would have liked to summon another drake or guardian, but the two runic circles linking Naia’s dungeon to her library cost a little more than a Forest Guardian each to maintain. And there was no way she was depopulating her domain defenses.

But it’s worth it. Ali flickered her awareness back to the library, half a continent away, finding that Naia had already returned to her own dungeon, and on a whim, she sent several of her Glitter Dragonets through the teleportation circle so that she could have some eyes roosting in Naia’s cavern. She smiled to see the little blue slime already busy summoning a new boss, right in the middle of the giant glowing lake beside the waterfall. What surprised her most though, was the sight of several of the guild adventurers – Aiden, Teagan, Havok, and Seth – standing beside the lake looking on with interest, calling out occasional suggestions.

“Why the Stalkers?” Calen asked, kicking some of the smoking bones over and crouching to examine them closer. “Their blood magic doesn’t work on undead, right?”

“I don’t think those skeletons were dungeon minions,” Ali answered. “They were animated by death mana, and it didn’t seem connected to the dungeon’s domain at all.”

“So, where did they come from?” he asked, not questioning her observation.

“Eld?” It was a good question, but the brief presence of the Lich answered it quite definitively in Ali’s mind. He was a necromancer, capable of summoning and binding Death Knights to his service. The skeletal remnants of the inhabitants of Aman Rak had to be a part of his nefarious scheme somehow.

“Probably,” Calen nodded, agreeing with her deduction. “Keep an eye out then, we still don’t know what kind of monsters this dungeon makes.”

Malika nodded. “Not at all terrifying that an entire Troll nation has fallen, right?”

“We don’t know that for certain,” Calen disagreed, but his tone was resigned rather than helpful. Certainly, it seemed dire if Nevyn Eld himself had come.

While the others recovered their stamina, Ali added a couple of interesting trees and vines to her Grimoire, using the deconstruction to finally replenish her mana. Then, she pulled out a couple of trays of multicolored potions she had purchased at the Pathfinder Guild shop and deconstructed those too.

Variant: Minor Stamina Potion added to Imprint: Potion.
Variant: Minor Elixir of Agility added to Imprint: Potion.
Variant: Minor Elixir of Strength added to Imprint: Potion.

After that, she created a spread of potions which she shared with her friends and humanoid minions, and said, “Ok, I’m ready.”

“That’s moderately terrifying, Ali,” Malika said, glancing over at her Forest Guardian standing shoulder to shoulder with the enormous Armored Drake. The two of them blocked the path so thoroughly that they were crushing bushes and snapping small trees on the sides.  

“I just hope we don’t run into anything immune to fire,” Ali said. It was a powerful army, but it was also heavily biased towards physical and fire damage. She had a lot of melee monsters, and besides the blood magic of her Stalkers, all her magical attacks were fire-based. But, as she had discovered against the Corrupted Fire Drake, the glaring weakness was her vastly underleveled Acolytes.

“Fire seems like a good default choice,” Calen approved. “Especially against blood and bone.”

“I wish I had better healers,” Ali said. It was not the first time she had worried about this, her Acolytes had served her well so far, but their magic was simply not keeping up with the demands of higher-level combat and the vastly larger health pools of her newer monsters. She really liked Naia, but she was definitely jealous of her ability to level her oozes up in combat.

“Your Kobolds are great,” Malika said, offering encouragement.

“This way,” Calen said, leading them onward into the dungeon itself. “Lyeneru will want to know what’s in here when she gets back.”

If she gets back, Ali thought, catching Malika’s gaze, but she left it unsaid. Nevyn Eld was a terrifying foe, and it was not obvious that even the Legendary Pathfinder herself would be able to escape the clutches of his devastating death magic. Again, we seemed inconsequential to him.

Malika puffed out her cheeks. “Let’s do that.”

Nothing I can do about Nevyn Eld right now, Ali thought, putting the epic battle between the two unimaginably powerful entities out of her mind. It was a battle well beyond herself, and she would need to focus on the dungeon before her. She followed along behind Calen as they headed into the jungle.

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