Daughter of Death - A Necromantic LitRPG

An unbearable headache roused Lieze from her slumber. She awoke with a start--half-surprised to still be alive and equally confused to find herself on a comfortable mattress with neither sheets nor a duvet. The midday sun filtered through the room’s single window, beyond which muffled voices and the clattering of hooves against stone could be heard. A wave of panic washed over Lieze as it dawned upon her that she was still in Tonberg. Her head swam as she sat up on the bed, surveying the meagre room with eyes straining to adjust to the light.

Glass cabinets filled with colourless solutions layered the walls. The floor was laid with sterile, ceramic tiles up to the skirting board. A single, comfortable-looking chair had been placed in the centre of the room. Another bed besides Lieze’s was half-concealed by a rounded curtain. It was obviously a clinic of some sort, though she was the only patient. The sight was more than familiar to her--the Order forbade healing evocations and required such facilities of its own.

Her feet found the floor easily enough. She was in no rush to extend her stay. Just as she made for the door, it creaked open, and from the gap emerged a stout, well-dressed man at least half her height. His impressive beard obscured much of the fellow’s expression, but his eyes were immediately filled with surprise upon seeing the girl wandering about.

“Deary me.” He raised a hand to adjust his glasses, “You’re awake, then.”

The man was a Dwarf. It was Lieze’s first time meeting one. She tried to mask her surprise while clearing her throat, “...Where am I?”

“You’re in Bak Longfinger’s Natural Remedies and Check-Up.” The languid accent of the far north laced his words, “As you may have guessed, the name’s Bak Longfinger, and you’ve been taking up one of my beds for just over a week, lassie.”

“A week?” Lieze blinked, “That can’t be right…”

“I’m not surprised your mind’s all muddled. Here--hop on that chair so I can make certain you’ve got your faculties in order.”

She didn’t have any reason to refuse him. Frankly, she was a little interested in finding out if there was anything wrong with her. The Dwarf was quick to retrieve a number of instruments from his cabinets as she settled into the comfortable chair. His busy prattling revealed a number of facts about her situation.

“Thought that was it for Tonberg, I did. Even had everything packed up and ready for the long walk back to Grapcka.” He recounted, “But when that Dragon appeared… everything happened in a flash. Haven’t met a single person who can give me a good account of it--least of all myself.”

“The Gildwyrm…” Lieze muttered, “What happened to the necromancers from the Order?”

“Fled back to their sordid Deadlands, I hear.” He answered, “Once everyone regained their senses, there were only black, stinking stains on the ground where the undead stood. Figure the old Wyrm took care of them--before vanishing in a puff of smoke, that is.”

“How did Ricta summon it?”

“You’d have to ask him that question yourself, I’m afraid.” Bak lifted himself onto a stool that he’d pulled over from a dusty corner. Some kind of metallic tool was poking out of his ears and into his hand, “Take a deep breath.”

She did as he asked, flinching as the implement was pressed against her chest. The tool seemed to be for measuring her heart rate or something to that effect. A few moments of silence passed before the Dwarf quickly replaced his choice of instrument with a thin piece of wood, pointing it towards her mouth expectantly.

“Open your mouth.” He instructed. Lieze thought for a moment that he was inspecting her teeth, but he seemed to be staring straight down her throat. The clinics of the Order were significantly simpler, though a necromancer was more likely to take desperate measures in ensuring a patient’s survival.

“Well, you seem healthy enough to me.” Bak summarised, “Any reason for why you’ve been in a coma this past week and a bit?”

“No… I’m not sure.” She lied.

“Do you remember anything?”

“No.” She lied again, “Waking up here is the last thing I recall…”

“I don’t suppose you’d be able to explain the blood-soaked dagger I pulled off your belt, then?”

She had hoped to escape the clinic without suspicion, but the mention of her dagger caught Lieze off-guard. How was she going to explain something like that without getting the royalists involved?

“I’m sorry.” She prefaced her excuse, “I really don’t remember anything.”

“You remembered the Dragon well enough. And the necromancers.” He countered, “Come on, lass--if you’ve got something to hide, then just spit it out.”

She couldn’t reveal her status as a necromancer, no matter how bad she was at it. She’d be publicly executed by the priesthood without a trial.

“I… a necromancer attacked me…” She averted her gaze, “I stabbed him, and he retreated. When the Dragon appeared, I blacked out not long after…”

“Hm.” The Dwarf crossed his arms, “Well, as long as you weren’t hurt.”

“Thank you for helping me.” She expressed, “Is Tonberg still…?”

“Safe? Who’s to say?” He answered, “I can’t imagine the necromancers are going to stop after they’ve already taken Saptra, Bascoroch and Dolore. They’ll be back, certainly. But His Majesty still lives, even if he does preside over a half-dead city.”

“Where did the Gildwyrm go?”

“Back to the Heavens--assuming it was the real thing.” He shrugged his shoulders, “Best not to dwell on the nature of Gods. Are you a noble?”

“No.” Lieze shook her head, “Do I seem that way?”

“Thought that gold on your palm gave it away. Plenty of old Dwarves with metal grafted to their skin. Never seen it on a human before, mind.”

Lieze turned her left hand.

Nestled in the centre of her palm was a golden scale, fused to her skin. It was strangely flexible, bending as she curved her hand, and didn’t seem uncomfortable in the slightest. Curling a finger, she touched the glossy surface, and yelped in surprise as a disembodied voice interrupted her confusion.

Initialising Interface…

The Dwarf tilted his head at her reaction. He didn’t appear to have heard a word of it, but as Lieze lifted her gaze, she noticed something strange. A few lines of chalk-white text were hovering above the doctor’s head.

Bak Longfinger

Level 11 Physician

HP: 203 / 203 MP: 40 / 40

“What are these letters? These numbers?”

Questions like those immediately flooded her head. She had only brushed the scale with her finger, and the short sequence had appeared out of thin air. The message followed Bak around like a ghost, as if connected to him.

“You feeling alright, lass?” He asked, clearly worried, “Some more rest might do you good.”

“No…” She pulled herself back to reality, “It’s nothing. I should really be going.”

“Well, I certainly can’t stop you…” He muttered as Lieze rose from the chair, “Only promise me you won’t be back in a couple of hours.”

“That won’t be a problem.” She assured, “Thank you for your help.”

Wasting no time at all, she quickly made her exit into the clinic’s humble reception, making her way to the front door and emerging onto the sprawling streets of Tonberg. She was at first amazed by the sheer amount of people travelling from place to place, having been raised in the comparatively desolate Deadlands her entire life. But that sensation of amazement was quickly trampled by a realisation--that each and every citizen she could see was saddled with the same arrangement of text above their heads.

From commoners to traders, each of their names were displayed prominently and without ceremony, yet none of them seemed aware that such information was visible. With a gulp, Lieze looked directly above her, half-relieved to see that she hadn’t suffered a similar fate. Once more, she raised her left hand to examine the golden scale, tentatively pressing a finger against it. After a few seconds, some kind of illusory rectangle expanded from the foreign object, riddled with words.

Lieze Sokalar

Level 1 Necromancer

HP: 30 / 30 XP: 0 / 20 MP: 5 / 5

Skills & Features

Lesser Necromancy (Lvl. 1)

A summation of her earthly self, reduced to numbers in a box. What did it mean? Was it the ‘gift’ she had been offered by the Gildwyrm? Why did she feel the need to accept it in the first place? Her circumstances had left her with more questions than answers. Before she could begin deciding her next move, the rectangle projecting from her palm shortened, and the text within changed.

New Quest Received - "Getting Started"

Acquire a Guild License.

Reward - 30xp

New Quest Received - "Rise From Your Grave"

Raise an undead thrall.

Reward - 50xp

The scale was commanding her--or, perhaps offering her a trial. She tried to wrap her mind around what ‘xp’ could possibly mean, but it was obvious that she was being guided. All Lieze wanted to do was leave Tonberg behind and catch up with the remnants of the Order, but as she considered her options, the chances of that happening seemed less and less likely.

Would the guards allow her to leave the gates? What if someone from the battle recognised her? Despite the welcoming atmosphere of the city, she couldn’t have been deeper in enemy territory if she tried. The moments leading up to her blackout replayed in the girl’s head. She remembered her own father encouraging her to walk towards her death, and the scathing words of Drayya who undermined her every achievement.

What use was there in returning? She had always been a talentless pest in need of extermination.

As she began her lonesome stroll through the streets, her eyes scanned the names and occupations of the endless crowd. Every so often, a home or establishment would be half-destroyed or abandoned--remnants of the battle one week prior. Guardsmen patrolled the main roads with weapons drawn, seeking out the slightest whispers of injustice. The displaced and homeless wore outfits that belied their status as beggars, freshly-displaced from their beds and livelihoods.

Before long, the shifting crowds had pushed Lieze towards a tavern. The creaking nameplate hanging above the doorway told her it was named ‘The Golden Flagon’. What struck her as odd was that the patrons moving in and out of the building all seemed to be wearing armour and stowing weapons on their hips. The smell of spilled ale entered her nose as she entered the establishment, her interest suddenly piqued.

At first glance, it appeared to be nothing more than an ordinary tavern. Tucked away in the far corner, flanking the counter, was some kind of bulletin board plastered with yellowed notices. Some kind of receptionist, separate from the bartender’s domain, stood with her arms behind her back at a small desk.

Lieze wandered towards the board, catching a glimpse of monstrous sketches scribbled onto the many notices. Accompanying each was a bold letter followed by finely-written paragraphs. She worked out at a glance that it must have been some kind of bounty board, before the receptionist greeted her with a smile.

“Hello there!” The woman was clad in a black-and-yellow uniform. The folded cap crowning her long hair was pinned with the emblem of the Sovereign Cities--twin Dragon heads, green and golden, intertwining with one-another, “Are you looking to accept a request?”

“Uh… no. Well-” Lieze stammered out, “This is actually my first time here.”

“Ah, looking to sign up with the guild, are you?” She smiled, “Don’t worry--registration is simple! All we need is your name and at least one reference from a registered guild member.”

“A reference…” She sighed, “I’m sorry, but-”

“Excuse me!”

Their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of a white-hooded girl hovering behind Lieze. With an intricately-carved oaken staff in her grip, she had the look of a spellcaster. Lieze shot a cursory glance towards her scale to be certain.

Noma Lawain

Level 9 Conjurator

HP: 120 / 120 MP: 100 / 100

“Did I overhear that you’re looking to join the guild?” She asked. The golden pair of eyes staring from beneath her hood made Lieze feel somewhat uncomfortable.

“...That’s right.” She answered.

“It just so happens that I’m looking for a companion to clear a Kobold infestation in a nearby cave.” The girl continued, “If you’re willing to accompany me, I could give you the reference you need?”

The gears in Lieze’s head began to turn. She was no fighter, and her half-baked necromancy wasn’t something she could practise in view of anyone until she returned to the Order’s hideout. But in the deepest recesses of her mind, a plan was hatching.

“...That would be lovely.” Lieze returned the girl’s smile, “Thank you for your help.”

“I’m only a rookie member myself. I was struggling to keep up with higher-grade requests, so I was on the lookout for someone more on my level.” She explained, “Ah--I haven’t even introduced myself yet. My name is Noma. Noma Lawain.”

“Lieze.” The two exchanged shallow bows, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Are you able to hand over the insignia right away, Miss Receptionist?” Noma turned her attention back to the desk.

“There’s nothing that forbids me from doing so.” She answered, rummaging through a drawer to retrieve a thin, golden emblem, “We’re still under martial law thanks to the attack last week, but if you show this to the guards, they should allow you to leave the city.”

“I’m grateful.” Lieze thanked as she took the insignia. Seconds later, the magical box appeared from her hand yet again.

Quest "Getting Started" Complete!

Reward - 30xp

Level Up!

You are now Level [2]

HP + 10 MP + 20

Something happened to her. It wasn’t a sensation that could be explained with words--more of a transient ‘betterment’ surging through her body. She felt stronger. More capable. Just what had the Gildwyrm done to her? Would it be possible to improve further if she kept following the scale’s demands? For the first time in over a decade, Lieze felt a glow of hope.

“...Lieze?” Noma blinked, “Are you okay?”

“Oh…” She raised her head, “Yes. I’m fine.”

“Do you have plans? We could tackle the Kobold cave another day.”

“That won’t be necessary. Actually-” She paused, “Would you mind if we left for the cave right away?”