Prologue

Cannon fire rained down around them as they fled their woodland homes. The artillery barrage from the airships above them sowing panic amongst the tribe. She stopped her stride to look back as one of the homes burst apart next to her, the ringing in her ears replaced by the screams of her people.

Days had passed, how many, she couldn't be certain. The remnants of her tribe followed as they made their way north. As their journey continued,  members of their neighboring tribes joined the procession.

Journeying across the land bridge connecting their homeland to this untamed northern wilderness, they stopped and set up encampments. A brief sense of respite was enjoyed as they traded stories of the attacks on their villages.

The "Unification War" as it was titled by their antagonists from the fledgling city capital of Keyr'dana had taken its toll. But in this moment they felt they had escaped the turmoil.

It was here that she first encountered him. Tall of stature, the warrior son of the fierce tribe of the Kur'rah had built a reputation amongst the survivors for the deeds he achieved in the safe passage north.

She kept to the shadows, her eyes locked on this warrior from afar. His demeanor somewhat aloof to the recognition he had achieved. As many of the tribal elders tried to arrange a marriage to this young warrior, she watched him dismiss them each and every time.

Word had spread that the pursuit had ended as the tribes began discussing what to do next. Realizing she might never see him again, she made her choice and approached the warrior.

As they locked eyes across the large bonfire in the middle of their encampment, she could recognize that he, too, held a curiosity for her.

She turned her gaze as she circled the perimeter of the fire, letting the rhythm of the drums guide her gait as she approached closer. She could feel his stare as she pranced lightly toward him. 

"Korppi was it?" He spoke. She had seen him from afar but never near enough to hear the low calculated tone in his words. Her dance stopped as she looked to him and sensed something familiar in his words.

"You must be Köykkä then", she spun gracefully in front of him as she found her feet responding to the music once more.   

The night stretched on as they spoke, and feasted together. Recounting tales of each of their tribes, and the vicious attack that drove them from their homeland.

The days continued and the two found themselves in each other's company more and more as the tribes made plans to continue north and rebuild. With no family spared from the war, she finally had the courage to ask him to journey with her and her people. Knowing that his prowess was needed to protect his chieftain's son, he nervously went to seek permission.

Entering the tent of the famed chieftain of the Kur'rah, Köykkä stepped with determination. But the dwarf boy barreled forward from his father's side and clung to his leg.  

The chieftain listened to the young warrior state his case. Already knowing from the shy tone in his voice that a woman had taken his interest. He sat amused at the warrior fumbling his words until suddenly interrupting him.

"Boy, the war is behind us, it is time to rebuild for those of us who have families to care for", he playfully tousled his son's hair. Looking up once more, "go, make one of your own."

Shouts began erupting from the encampment outside as the familiar sound of cannon fire could be heard in the distance.  

Köykkä went to the door of the tent to inspect as a projectile hit behind him. Cries of terror overtook his senses as he saw the chieftain's son behind him, covered in the blood of his father who laid still, his chest caved in from the cannonball.

Fetching the child away, he stormed out of the tent, rushing to find Korppi. His heart racing with every step, hoping to find her safe. Dodging through the fires that were now raging through the encampment he finally found her, leading others safely out of the inferno. 

Rushing to her side, the young boy Seamus still crying in his arms, they pressed their foreheads together, thanking the gods that they were safe.

Another explosion rocked nearby, and he begged her flee with him, but she still had her tribe to tend to and she refused to leave anyone behind again.

"Go! Get the child safely away! I will find you!"

These would be the last words he heard from her…..

The winter winds ceased as the Heroes emerged from their makeshift shelters. Dormant through the dawning of spring, they began anew, forged in the resolve of their hardened loss.

They lived as scavengers, taking what supplies they required as the months dragged on. A growing uncertainty welled within them as they looked to Köykkä for answers. 

With each passing day, his growing rage at the events that had befallen them took its toll, and so he withdrew. The everful well of steadfast determination took over him as he clawed through brush and trees until he made his way to the nearest village with his son.

The little warrior was growing before his eyes, and he knew he could not falter in the only task that truly mattered. He stared the fates eye to eye once before, but he could not, would not, allow his uncertainties to get the better of him this time.

The days grew longer once more, and he knew the task before him. His companions needed him once more. The time to raid anew was upon him.

Free of the shackles of obligation to the Hall, he set out once again in search of his allies as he laid plans for the forging of something greater than the tavern they once called home.

His friends, his trusted companions, his warriors - his community - was the only home he needed now. His blades sharpened, his eyes seething with fury, the Assassin set out anew.

10 years passed, and the young warrior had seen death's embrace twice throughout his journey.

But his heart told him he would see her once more.

An Enchanting Endeavor

Deep in the wooded glade, the heroes marched.

Unhindered by the burdens of the last year of turmoil. As they traveled deeper they heard sounds of merriment echoing between the trees.  

They approached, weapons at the ready, however what they encountered was far from a hostile welcome.  

Calming themselves, they approached the inhabitants of this forest community. Realizing they were welcome to partake in the day's festivities, the heroes resolved to abandon their quest of conquering the woodland realm and instead embrace the village as welcomed allies.

Joy filled the air as the weary travelers took to revelry amidst the shade of the forest canopy.  

United as one, they remembered their fallen brethren and paid homage to the close ties they have built with friends anew. The dawn of a new era was upon the heroes as they made way for the construction of a new Hall.

Köykkä's gaze rarely strayed far from Korppi. This Raven of his dreams striding playfully at his side. It was as if reaching back into a long lost memory and pulling it into his present world.

Emotion flooded the Assassin as he once more found purpose in his step.

Days stretched on and Köykkä couldn't refrain another moment. "What happened? I thought you dead? Were you dead? I saw you when I..." his voice trailed as he remembered his own brush with death in the months leading to the destruction of his tavern.

Sensing his dismay she led him above the ridge overlooking the encampment. Pointing down to one of the tents she explained "there, the druid Ylva, her guardian Sigfried, and 'her wolves'" she chuckled at the last mention.  

"The night of the attack, I was pinned under a constant barrage from the Keyr'dana airships, but it was Ylva who saved me. Thinking myself surely at an end, I suddenly found myself surrounded by shaped earth. I wasn't aware of her presence, but she was there, next to me shaped into the very stone shielding me."

Köykkä noted the new companions and bid her continue.

"After the assault, we fled north into the forest. We found many survivors from the severed city nations as well as the tribes. But you were gone, you and the boy." She silently looked down to regard Seamus, as him and Sigfried sparred together, testing each other's mettle.

"But how did you find me.." she held her hand up stopping him from continuing.

"Ylva has taught me much over the years, most importantly - the ability to walk along the veil. I searched the spirit world looking for you, every night... I..." her voice trembling as she recalled the years in pursuit of answers.

Steeling herself once more, "I should tell you, I married in your absence... a fool of a man, but we

shared years together." Sensing the sorrow in him, Korppi placed a hand on his cheek. "You needn't worry, yes, I loved another, but he took on a battle he could not win."

Leaving it at that, she continued. "I felt you, how, I cannot say, but 3 months ago I felt you in the veil, and I followed your imprint until I came to your tomb. I had to be cautious, you were marked by something foul and unnatural upon your dying breath and as you are likely now aware, our tribes have taken to the dark arts of necromancy... I didn't know what you were becoming... but here you stand, somewhere in between life and death... a living specter, come to haunt me once more?"

For the first time since their reunion, he felt the weight of the life behind him, and he knew the change that had taken place since he awoke in his tomb had not been fully explored.

She rested her head on his arm, understanding that her words might have pushed him within to contemplate.

"You still don't know what you are, do you?" A voice came from behind them and they turned to notice the sorceress standing with her staff in hand., arcane mist swirling around her.

Incanting some words of power from a language alien to their recollection, she stripped away their surroundings, placing them within some hidden realm outside of reality.

"You're going to want to sit down for this..."

Köykkä's heart hammered in his chest as the reality of the sorceress' presence settled in. He hadn't sensed her approach, and yet here she was—no mere traveler, but someone who knew far more than she let on. The air around them shifted, dense with the hum of raw power. He took a cautious step back, feeling the weight of Korppi’s hand still resting on his arm, her warmth grounding him in the chaos that now seemed to swirl just beneath the surface of reality.

The sorceress, her eyes gleaming with an unsettling calm, raised her staff, and a cascade of runes shimmered in the air. The mist around them thickened until it was no longer the forest they stood in, but a space untethered from time and place. The sounds of the world faded, replaced by an eerie silence that stretched beyond comprehension.

Köykkä could feel the shift within him—the unnatural pull of the necromantic magic that had brought him back from death. It was subtle at first, like a shadow just out of reach, but now it was growing stronger. Korppi, sensing the change in him, squeezed his arm tighter, her eyes searching his face as if trying to reconcile the man before her with the stranger she had just reunited with.

The sorceress spoke again, her voice low and resonant, vibrating in the very air around them.

"You think you are still the same, Köykkä of the Kur'rah. But what you have become, what they have made you, is no longer that of a mere warrior. Your death was not a natural one, and your resurrection, if it can be called that, is not without cost.

Köykkä's breath caught in his throat. His mind reeled, memories of the tomb, of the cursed energy that had been surging through him, all came rushing back.

Korppi's gaze was fixed on the sorceress, but there was a flicker of concern in her eyes as she pulled back, stepping away from Köykkä. Her voice was steady, though tinged with worry.

"What do you mean? What did they do to him?" she asked, the question as much for herself as for the sorceress.

The sorceress met Korppi's gaze with a knowing look before turning back to Köykkä. "The necromancers of your people did not simply bring you back, they changed you. They bound you to something far older, a force beyond their control." She paused, her expression darkening as she watched Köykkä closely. "A force that seeks to consume you. What you are now is a vessel, but not just for life… for death, too." 

Köykkä felt his pulse quicken. The words echoed in his mind—*a vessel for death*. He could still feel the pull of something cold within him, a hunger that had not been there before. Something was inside him, twisting, gnawing at the edges of his mind. He reached up to his chest instinctively, as if to quiet the gnawing sensation.

Korppi’s voice broke through the fog of his thoughts. "Is he... is he still alive? Or is this something else entirely?"

The sorceress stepped closer, lowering her staff, her tone softening for the first time. "He is alive, yes. But his life is not the same. He is tethered to the realm of the dead, bound by necromantic forces. And those forces will continue to pull at him, eroding what remains of his humanity. If something is not done—if he cannot sever that bond—he will become one of them: an empty husk, a puppet of death." 

The words hit Köykkä like a blow to the chest. He felt the darkness stir within him, the hunger, the cold—a primal force that seemed to call out to him, promising release, promising power. But at what cost?

Korppi stepped forward, her voice now tinged with a rare vulnerability. "Is there a way to free him from this curse? Can we undo what’s been done? 

The sorceress hesitated, her eyes scanning Köykkä as though weighing him against some unseen measure. "There is a way, but it will not be easy. You will have to confront the very forces that bind you. And not just any battle will do. You will have to enter the realm of the dead itself, the place where your soul was taken, and you will need to challenge the necromancer who has claimed dominion over your resurrection."

Köykkä clenched his fists, feeling the weight of the words settle over him like a shroud. He had known death once. He had felt it grasping for him. But now… now he was something else. Something in between.

Korppi placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch grounding him. "And what happens if we fail?" she asked, her voice unwavering.

The sorceress’ gaze turned distant for a moment, and when she spoke again, her words were soft, almost pitying. "If you fail… Köykkä will become a wraith, forever bound to the darkness that seeks to consume him. And your people will lose the one who was meant to lead them. This world, as you know it, will crumble."

The silence that followed was thick with the weight of what lay ahead. Köykkä could feel the presence within him, the cold force tugging at his soul, urging him to surrender. He had spent so many years fighting for survival, for the future of his people, but this… this was something entirely different.

Korppi turned to him then, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern and something deeper—something like hope. "We will face it together," she said softly, her voice a promise.

Köykkä met her gaze, the fierce resolve in his heart reigniting. He had fought through death once before. He had survived the impossible. And now, he would fight for his soul.

"I will not fall," he said, his voice steady with the conviction of someone who had stared down death and refused to be its servant.

The sorceress nodded, her lips curling into a faint, knowing smile. "Then the journey begins. But beware, Köykkä. The path ahead is fraught with peril. And the enemy you face is unlike any you have fought before. 

With that, the realm around them began to shift once more, returning them to the forest clearing where the sounds of the world resumed their steady rhythm. The sorceress was gone, as if she had never been there at all, leaving only the weight of her words behind.

Köykkä looked to Korppi, his expression grim but resolute.

"We face this together," he repeated, the promise of their bond stronger than the shadows that threatened to overtake him.

And so, with the weight of both the past and the future pressing down upon them, they set their sights on the path ahead. A path that would lead them into the heart of the dead world—and into the very heart of Köykkä's own darkness.