Elena’s report, continued…

The trail of smoke and fire rising up into the night sky is impossible to ignore, just like the stench of burning and eldritch taint in the air. Helps a lot too, my Lady, that the Isle itself ain’t all too big of a place to traverse on foot.

There’s only one main road on this damned place, and it leads straight towards the mines. It’s little better than trampled snow amidst a thicket of trees and snow that has seen better days, but it’s good enough for me. Also helps that it’s not entirely on fire or blanketed in smoke, for that matter.

I had little more than a few minutes of peaceful strolling before I noticed, from the corner of my eye, a hatchet flying straight towards my head. I stepped aside, and it whizzed by harmlessly, lodging itself into a nearby tree. Two more hatchets came for me in the same manner, and I destroyed them easily with the fiery flourish of a conjured blade. Crossbow bolts and bullets too, and as I got busy with avoiding them, a rock hit me squarely upon the back of my head, knocking me forward. Didn’t fall on my face, though!

Thankfully, as soon as that happened, my attackers made themselves known from their little hiding spots. There were just about fifteen of them waiting behind the trees, humans and elves in rags and filth and bits of Black Legion plate armour, some armed with weapons scavenged from their former overseers, and others with little better than rocks and sharp sticks slicked with someone else’s blood. They’re prisoners from the looks of it, eyes wild and unfocused with a whole lot of crazy in them.

“You’ll make a fine prize for the Demon King, elf…” one of them declared to me, rather smugly. “That shiny, golden stuff on your ears, too…”

“C’mon, then.” I offered, in turn. “You’ll have to come and get it.”

Damned crazies. When that rock hit me, they must’ve smelled weakness. I’m quite sure they were very surprised to find out that I wasn’t any worse for the road when I cut down the ones that rushed me in melee with ease, with little more than the flames of the same conjured blade I had used to destroy their little throwing toys just moments ago. The ones with the crossbows, pistols, and rocks (seriously?), fell soon after in a mix of fireballs and arcane missiles, freshly wrought from the hand of yours truly.

Now, I’m not trying to brag here, my Lady, but I barely broke a sweat. Figuratively speaking, of course! Either way, though, I was left with a veritable number of mortal corpses. They were a little burnt, some badly slashed or scorched, but they were all still mostly good. And so, I brought forth my sigil and raised them from the dead to serve me. By my necromantic will, their bones ripped right through what remained of their flesh to stand anew as a skeletal militia. They picked up their fallen weapons, armed and ready to be commanded. Even the one with the damned rocks, I’ll add.

Necromancy’s illegal by the tenets of Elicia’s Law. But I’m thinking, my Lady, that I can surely use some backup against this so-called ‘Demon King’ and whatever he’s got in store for me, if he can drive these mortals to madness. Besides, doesn’t the Codex Elicia say something about the greatest sin being that of failing to be of service to Elicia? Iris mentioned it once, I think. Dunno. Never read much of the accursed thing, to be honest.

That, and I suppose I’m also bound by oath to tell you all that know, and all that I do.