A horde of monstrosities lumbered forwards, bellowing and roaring as they advanced on the troop of orclach. Poor spawn of Kethuru, they gibbered and flailed when they weren't flinging tentacles about. "Gar Harun Orlachmar!" cried out a Death Marshal, commanding in armour of blackened steel. A gigantic tongue lolled across the ground towards him and latched on. Runes glowed into being around the soldier's plate and repulsed the abomination. It squealed and became ash on the ground.

 

Onwards the troop charged, cutting, beating and crushing the Soulless refuse back. Behind the monsters stood a tall figure reeking of decay. The Dread Lord of Contagion. He guided the group to the fighters, providing rudimentary intelligence for slobbering avatars of decay.

 

"Hold the line!" yelled a voice of superior might. A wave of relief swept across the army and renewed their wills, helping them push their enemy back. In the middle of the attack, standing on top of a tall stone, Supreme Commander Urlach chanted harsh, barbarous words. The screeching increased in volume, drowning out the noises of battle. Creature after creature bounded over the ranks of troops and flung themselves screaming at the figure.

 

An invisible shield flickered to repel the group, and death followed soon after. Before the ash and dust had fallen, Urlach had thrown out new and eldritch runes to float around him. Unlike they're ordinary brethren, these were carved on mottled misshapen rock and quivered just by being. Some were upright, others were inverted, and the rest were turned ninety degrees to the right where they were written.

 

Chaos and Order. Tzaraziko had demonstrated the power and possibilities present at the combining of two opposite forces. Urlach now focused on the order; runes, necromancy and death. Everything died; that was the rule, the order. Some things did not stay dead, so that was the chaos, along with staying alive. A rebellion against the natural order, to say "No, I will not die" and "I make my own fate", using their chaos to disrupt what, by all rights, was inevitable.

 

So it was that a strong will of survival warred with the acceptance of death about Urlach. Not just anyone could do it, proper steps and calculations were needed for full potential. Finally, life and death came together in the scorching magics vibrating the air around him. "Alatho!" yelled the orclach fearlessly, following up with ancient orclach words, hardly more than grunting. His throat burned as toxic words and forbidden languages caused a sharp change in his his spell.

 

Grey stone turned black as the void, latching onto the invisible circular shield surrounding Urlachs. Faster and faster, each one created a formation that simulated the sphere, spinning in alternating motions and forming a protective egg around the orclach Vernal.

 

A single rune remained out of place, but he had placed it elsewhere on the battlefield, waiting for the right time. Leaping higher than possible for an ordinary mortal, an easy trick for a Vernal God, the death egg landed in the middle of the attacking force and the being inside flung himself deeper into the melee. They focused inwards, seeking out new prey that stank of familiar and similar magic; they wanted to feast.

 

Urlach jumped and kneeled, the last rune on the floor locking in place to complete the lethal construct that spelt death for creator and victim. Black lightning struck the air and the egg hatched. The Dread Lord turned to run and was caught in the explosion of death magic. Within the excorable electricity of his deadliest enchantment, Urlach released the final levee at his opponents. By now the ur'Guard had retreated and hidden behind specially erected walls.

 

No point now to protecting anything else; Balach had been overrun by Kethuru's unholy spawn, the mugwumps all fleeing or dead. "By the power of mighty Orlachmar, I decree that all shall die!" The spawn, falling dead, quivered this time as they were reduced to dust.

 

Not even Urlach survived. The ur'Guard advanced out from the barricade to finish the job if necessary. A flash of black light illuminated the ruins behind their march and within a a cart, pulled by two skeletal horses, Urlach gasped and rose from the dead. The runes and inscriptions glowed fiercely; ancient, forbidden enchantments flashing into life to restore his.

 

By the time he had gotten out of the cart, the devastation lay before them. Balach was gone, the Bubbling Cauldron beyond all repair. As they packed up equipment and prepared to leave, Urlach walked over to his lieutenant. Blackened armour had been coated in fleshy detritus and blood before it had been scorched away by Urlach's magic. He drank from a flagon of water and offered it to his Lord Commander.

 

Urlach accepted it gratefully. "Report" ordered the orclach when he had finished.

 

Kushank looked around. "All hostiles dead, sir. None of us can feel any excorable energy aside from yours. We've won the battle."

 

"Perhaps… perhaps"  murmured Urlach thoughtfully. Both looked at the devastation present; the salvation that had come from destruction.

 

<><>

 

Present day

 

There is more than sewers beneath the city of Magnagora. At the deepest depths lies the great Necromentate, protector of Magnagora. Mausoleums and cemeteries remained amongst the ruins of the House of Prophets. Truly, there was as much history below Magnagora as above it. Deep below the Tower of Inescapable Damanation was a room older than the city itself. Originally the place where the Crypt of Urlach rested, it was now a hall of dusty relics. Only the oldest ur'Guards were even aware of the rumours, while the younger generation gave it no heed.

 

Commandant Vuul stood outside this room. Not the oldest ur'Guard; that title was not amongst the living. Such was the mystery of undeath. A distant ancestor of this honoured Death Marshal, he alone possessed knowledge of the oldest secret within the guild. Before him was a man who had earned the privilege of meeting Kushank, the Right Hand of Urlach, thanks to his efforts in spreading the glory of the Taint, the Demon Lords and the ur'Guard. A book on Urlach had won the person prestige amongst scholars.

 

"Share with no one whatever you may speak of, Legion General. It is a sacred place, and all his words are sacred because they are said by him. Understood?"

 

"Yes" spoke Lucio Ilythia, one of four Commanders within the Midnight Legion of Magnagora. He bristled with excitement at the knowledge he was about to receive. Quite the privilege it was, and no wonder they had decided to show him this. He was, after all, the top leading writer in the Engine.

 

Smugly he watched as Vuul touched a stone slab. An entrance opened up in the wall, and Vuul beckoned the Taurian to follow him. A candle lead the way down narrow curving steps. Once or twice Lucio had almost slipped. "Why is he deep below in the dank darkness of the Earth?" asked Lucio, annoyed at the pain the stairs were causing him.

 

Vuul was silent. If Kushank had not asked to speak with Lucio, he would have been turned away. It was not his place to question both a commanding officer and respected soldier; but that didn't mean he had to make small talk. Soon they had come to a stone chamber bathed in darkness. "He is here, Great Kushank" spoke Vuul in a deep voice.

 

Around the chamber, empty torches sprung into life with their fire and insects ran for cover. It was dry; exceedingly so. Against a pillar sat a ur'Guard bowing his head. He didn't look comfortable, slumped against the stone with a sword across his lap and a standard pointing upwards.

 

The room was bare, except for three occupants. Somewhere far off a door had closed, and Lucio realised Vuul was no longer with them. He moved closer to the figure and stepped back, startled at seeing the skeleton fused to the earth like a fossil. Rusted armour and torn rags were all that covered the collection of bones. The mouth was closed but exposed teeth gave him a sickly grin. Moving closer and seeing no movement, Lucio saw that this ur'Guard was properly dead. "So come on, where is this great Kushank then?" he called out, turning from the skeleton and looking around.

 

"Insolence."

 

Lucio jumped and turned, but the corpse hadn't moved. Cobwebs covered the ancient bones and the corpse looked old enough to blow away in a stiff breeze.

 

"Centuries. So many centuries, waiting…"

 

"For what?!" yelled Lucio, spinning around rapidly.

 

"The return of Urlach."

 

"You're out of touch, spirit. Urlach sacrificed himself to become Avechna with the other 8 vernals. He is not coming back."

 

There was silence, and Lucio spun his eyes around, focusing on the corpse. Shimmering faintly, he saw something for a brief second. "Pitiful. If you're dead, then become a lich. If you live, then come out of hiding!"

 

"Of course I am dead. The living can never truly be worthy of undeath while they exist. How do you think I have survived ten centuries of existence? So many Gods I have outlived, so many empires and friends. A mortal body, or even a demigod body, would be unable to sustain itself or not fall beneath the weight."

 

Lucio stared at the corpse, instead moving around the room to hide his fretfulness. He had been surprised by the state of the person he visited, but someone was definitely talking. 'But Necromancy, to be undead, that is to survive, to not die, and to live despite everything else."

 

"That is your Necromancy, not ours. To us, the original cadre of Urlach's chosen, your necromancy is a pitiful imitation of a great orclach's work. Only you could pass around such detritus and revere it. Archlichs themselves touch the surface, but that is only the beginning of the journey. Only a few understand the beauty and essence of Undeath, the original construct of great Urlach."

 

"So you are the result of 'true necromancy'? A soul barely clinging to life and unable to do anything but wait?"

 

"I have lived longer than Gods. I will outlast your children, your grandchildren, and their children, waiting. Urlach will return, and then the Basin will be beholden once more to Urlach's skill. I am the last, although Gruvark is around."

 

"The orclach mystic?"

 

"Aye. After Urlach became Avechna, he travelled the Basin of Life, and swore fealty to the Masque for what he had been shown. He survived by worship and offerings, and even in death he is in servitude to the Leader of the Twelve. One reincarnated, and the others finally gave in, or joined in rebuilding the world."

 

"Whatever" replied Lucio scornfully, sitting on the ground and eyeing the skeleton. "So, you are an enlightened lich, then?"

 

"Your derision is not new, and is one of the reasons you can never understand. You have come close, oh yes. I have heard much of you, self-proclaimed Archimandrate of the Engine. The Loremaster speaks to me often of the Time Dames and the city, what you did to slay those who stole Necromancy from us. But your journey ends here; you cannot help me, or even yourself."

 

Lucio jumped up, pointing at the corpse. "I adapt, I survive, I live. My journey is far from over."

 

"Despite that, you still do not give Necromancy the respect it deserves. It is a tool, only valuable in your mind for as long as it is useful. You inherently believe we are all selfish, especially Magnagora. But that is not true. We are selfless, and should be so. If Urlach had been selfish he would not have become Avechna. Pah, you… you are hardly worthy to talk to me! I have been beholden to Emperors, rulers, even Ladantine the 1st himself. Sinenth, too, I was counsel to, although I saw ahead of time the fate of the Celestine Empire."

 

"We orclach were called Death Marshals, able to marshal death as easily as grunts or soldiers. It obeys us and the Fates cannot touch we who reject them. When Urlach comes, the tapestry will be broken. No one will die ever again, and then the Soulless will be defeated."

 

A cold wind blew around Lucio, several candles extinguished, but he shook his head. "Selfishness is not bad. True, Urlach gave himself for Avechna. But he did it so everyone could survive. Despite your speech, I don't see us opening our arms to Celest, those intent on destroying Urlach's legacy and Magnagora. To survive is selfishness."

 

"Insolence! I said that before, and you just compound it with your words. Urlach created undeath to save us all, he shared his gift with those who wanted it, and eventually gave himself wholly for a just cause. People like you are why Celest fights us, not just their ignorance and weakness. To survive while being selfish is easy. Pitifully so, and undeserving of respect. You do everything for yourself, and think of no one else. How then, can you fight the Soulless with your powers if you do not care, if you are content to let them destroy, as long as you are the last man standing? One man cannot survive against the Soulless. Archpriest Lucio, you do not truly believe the Soulless will actually be defeated. No, you only want to be the winner."

 

"This is a war!" boomed the spectral voice, knocking the wind out of Lucio. "It is a terrible thing, to be avoided. Stop fighting amongst yourselves and unite against the enemy! Until then, you will continue dying, one by one, until everything we have worked for. Change, Archpriest. Change and then, perhaps, you will be worthy of true Necromancy when Urlach returns."

 

"So I can become like you? A soul without a body, a weak thing which cannot fight, only preach and dictate about a Vernal long dead. I will keep my body, forever, and remain strong."

 

"Foolish. I am the last surviving pupil of Urlach, a shard of the great Orlachmar, alive for more than ten centuries. I began to grow old. No, perhaps it is better to say, I became dependant on Undeath. But my body weakened. Urlach's necromancy is pure and unrestrained power fuelled by the Forbidden elixir. Pure execrable energy coursed through my body. I was not strong enough to contain it for so long. The others went to Shallach and were content with the shoddy product. Perhaps nothing can truly withstand Urlach's necromancy except a Vernal. Perhaps only Urlach himself can wield it effectively, but one day, he will return. On that day, Necromancy joins truly with Urlach's vision and the Soulless shall be eradicated" exclaimed the voice, exalting the patron of the ur'Guard.

 

Lucio looked at the corpse, startled by the sudden voracity of those words. "You think you have suffered, that only you know of weakness, and tainted corrosion? You know nothing! You are a petulant child given a gift he knows not to use. Your caper about, worshipping Lord Gorgulu, not for what you can learn from him, but for what he is and what you will be.""

 

"Lord Gorgulu is about testing your limits. It is about stretching yourself as far as possible without breaking, to touch the void and return undamaged. Don't lecture me on the Devourer, I know him in and out"" snarled Lucio, and the voice said nothing for a bit.

 

"Perhaps there is hope for you yet, Archpriest. But you shall not find it in torture, nor self-inflicted punishment. You will find it in the place you least expect. Now, leave me. I tire of your derision, and will wait, as I always have, for a true bastion of Necromancy to arrive. That, or someone who gives Necromancy the respect it deserves and accepts it is inferior. You are neither of these things."

 

The voice was silent now, and even though Lucio didn't see anything; he had felt the spirit's finality in its voice. There was no presence here, and the corpse was just a corpse, standard still raised, sword rusted and still.

 

"You don't know me" exclaimed Lucio defiantly, and felt silly when the voice did not respond. He strode out with a scowl, although his mind thought over what had been said to him.