The Ruins of Orr, they called it, a bleak decayed wasteland for the Risen to conquer and thrive. An unnatural mist permeated the landscape, obscuring your vision should you try to look further then necessary. Different shades of browns, greys, and greens colored the earth and structures that survived the unholy Cataclysm that occurred so long ago. Unnatural growths, normally found on the beds of the oceans, covered this sickly continent. Only one known entity could inhabit such a place, the Risen. Commanded by their leader Zhaitan, they set out to destroy all of Tyria. Many answered the call for heroes to stand against this threat, and an innumerable of those that responded didn’t leave Orr after treading on its soil.

After the death of Zhaitan, there was one soul who stayed behind of their own volition. One human could be seen striding through Orr’s desolate wilds. She had purpose in her steps, an unrelenting will to complete the unknown task before her. Occultis was her name, not her real name mind you, but the name she would only answer to. The garments she wore would tell passerby she was an explorer. The staff strapped to her back would show her abilities as a mage. The one thing that would give others pause was the cloth tied around her head that covered her eyes. Occultis was blind, but she always seemed to know where she was going, who was speaking, and how to get past any obstacle. Some thought her magical talents simply allowed her to see without sight.

They were right, for a white dove perched atop her right pauldron, green eyes scanning everything. Some thought the dove to be a pet, but pets usually had a pulse. This dove was special, connected to Occultis by a mental link she created upon its resurrection and able to see through his eyes.

The second thing others would notice would cause unease. Bones, her rough clothes were covered in them. From the human skulls on each shoulder, the fingers interwoven along her sleeves, and the raven skull attached to her long leggings, at the hip. Her green hued attire would cause many to backpedal from their previous approach when they finally identified her as a necromancer.

Yes, a necromancer, raiser of the dead and spreader of plagues. Those that knew of her, however, would see no reason to flee. This heroine had ended the corruption in Orr and slew the Elder Dragon Zhaitan a scant few weeks ago. So why was she still in Orr after all those that had aided in her task left?

Orr was home to the Six Human Gods, each worshipped by the human race. Temples were built, statues were carved, but all was corrupted after Zhaitan rose. Occultis was a follower of Grenth, the human god of darkness, ice, and death. She owed Grenth a debt that could never be repaid, so she would spend the rest of her existence serving him. That is what brought her to the decayed temple that stood before her.

A large statue of Grenth marked the entrance, the monolith sized one atop the temple marked its location in Orr. Thunder boomed, lightning crashed, and rain poured heavily as Occultis entered the small valley that signified the entrance and strode along the raising terrain, using uncovered steps where they were uncovered by sickly mud. Large putrid green and ghastly blue colored pillars rose on either side, many broken only a third along their height. The large archway and rotten wooden doors signified the passageway into the Cathedral of Silence.

Empty spaces lined the walls, signifying room used by coffins of old and distant dead. The hallway quickly opened up into a once grand space, but nothing seen within could convince anyone but Occultis of its exalted status. Coffins littered the room, broken and missing their charges. Plants from the sea lay rotted along the cerulean colored floor, and light poured in from a hole in the ceiling. The stench of death and decay made all of these observations irrelevant as most observers would now be facing the floor and losing their previously consumed rations. Occultis didn’t bat an eye or twitch her nose as she advanced down the hall toward her prize.

At the end of this hall, was a dimly lit room, same as the others except for two features. A damaged statue of Grenth lay at the back, chipped and broken along the rear wall. Its pieces that had fallen off were bathed in a light that any would be stunned by. This was not some light that simply came down and brightened the darkness, but a light that proved something, or someone, was watching this room.

Slowing her stride, Occultis bathed in this light for but a moment, feeling Grenth’s icy touch. Approaching the broken statue, she knelt before it and offered a silent prayer to her god, wishing for guidance and an explanation for why she was still needed in Orr. She knew not why Grenth wished her to stay when all others had left. Even those that had once studied this place had come up with reasons to move on. The necromancer wanted to leave, move on to the next challenge. There were still dragons that corrupted her home. Her friends needed her help, they wouldn’t have made it ten paces into Orr without her ‘reinforcements.’ Circumstances, however, had led her to stay put. Being told by your savior to not leave was reason enough she had to bade her friends goodbye.

A sickly green smoke began to rise in front of the stone god. Occultis’s eyes snapped open as she felt the chill enter the room. She had felt this before, when she had called for Grenth’s aid before the death of Zhaitan. An Avatar of Grenth, the God’s way of speaking with his followers, stood several feet above her. The Reaper’s head was a humanoid skull with three horns of varying length sprouting on each side. Its skin was a ghastly green with dark splotches abound. The eye sockets where filled with an endless void of white, and the same be described for its open mouth. Its green chest was bare except for the thin black cloth that draped from shoulder to shoulder. Dark gauntlets covered its hands and nothing could be seen below its waist but the billowing smoke permeating around it. Occultis sunk deeper onto her knees, her black hair flowing past her neck and touching the floor.

“Rise, Occultis. Grenth has need of you,” spoke the Seventh Reaper of Grenth.
Her reply was instant, her voice betraying the chill she felt in her very core, “I am Grenth’s most loyal servant, speak His will and it shall be done!”

The Reaper replied, “Grenth knows your plight against the Elder Dragons. When they rampaged last, they could not be slain and all suffered under them. The death of one of them proves you are able to end the torment they cause The Six’s followers.”

“If that is true, then why does Grenth stay my staff? Why must I remain here when the one who haunted here is no more?” Occultis’s rebuttal was swift, forgetting momentarily just who she was speaking to.

Had the Avatar noticed, it didn’t seem to mind the outburst. Speaking commandingly, “Grenth knows your plight and aims to prevent you from a fool’s errand. Your comrades seek the Elder Dragon Jormag, they will not find him. This plane of existence is no longer his home.”

Occultis let this snippet of information seep in, churning her mind to make sense of it. She knew there were other planes the Six used; Grenth inhabited the Underworld while Balthazar commanded from the Fissure of Woe, their own realms of existence and homes for the most devout of followers. Surely they could keep an Elder Dragon from invading their own homes. She deduced that other planes not in their control must exist.

Standing straight, Occultis addressed the Reaper, “Take me to this plane, the inhabitants must be warned and Jormag must be stopped. The north is lost to us because of his malice. I will not allow his corruption to spread any further!”

“That was Grenth’s plan; you shall act as Tyria’s ambassador and save this innocent world,” The Reaper of Grenth’s statement was quick and had no room for argument.

The Necromancers reply was instant, “I am ready.”

No more words were spoken for they were no longer needed. The aspect inclined its head in response then swiftly raised its arms. A black billowing smoke seeped out of the cracks in the floor. It rose and swirled, looking for purpose. One arm of the Reaper’s feel, the hand of the other arm remained aloft. Its handed pointed at Occultis, the smoke obeyed its master and twirled around her, slowly engulfing the women. Her vision blurred, her cold heart jumped in her chest, and she blinked.

Occultis found herself surrounded by tall trees. The scents of life and the sight of browning leaves permeating her vision. Occultis took all this in quickly, she couldn't dally, she needed to act. Continuing to scan the landscape, she took note of all the bright colors.

“Reminds me of The Heartwoods in Queensdale,” Occultis muttered under her breath. With no clear path, she nudged her dove.

“Archimedes,” the woman spoke, “Could you go and take a look up above?”

Archimedes turned his gaze to Occultis, cooed softly, and nodded before taking flight. What Occultis saw impressed her. To the south-west a large city could be seen, large towers of glass and metal reached for the sky as if trying to mimic the very mountains that the city was built in front of. Large white letters were visible along mountain’s range.

“A P P L E W O O D?” The necromancer questioned to herself, “What strange letters, I wonder what they mean?”

As the dove’s view changed toward the North-East, a small village was slightly visible. She could make out several cottages, but not much else. Calling Archimedes back, Occultis decided the small village would be a better start to her journey. She needed to get a foothold in this world, find allies, and gather intelligence. Fortunately, being a Lightbringer in the Order of Whispers made her highly trained for these sorts of activities. Occultis took off like a spring, bobbing and weaving between trees, not a sound was heard of her approach.

Hours passed and yet there was no sign of the forest waning. Leaves fell where the Necromancer had once been, the only trail she allowed. A sudden crack filled the air, causing Occultis to stop her movements. She hadn’t made that noise, Tybalt Leftpaw had snuffed that fault out of her very early in her training. The sound of wheels turning and the squeaks of a traveling cart slowly came into focus. Occultis wasn’t alone, and she intended to make first contact as subtly as possible.
Using Archimedes to scout the cart, she discovered an azure colored pony. She thought it was too small to be a horse, seemingly only reaching up to her midsection. What she thought was odd was how it wore two articles of clothing, a purple hat and cape adorned with colored stars, while the cart’s wheels were covered in an azure colored substance, seemingly turning on their own. Sadness and shame radiated off the equine, her head bowed and eyes glazed over in deep self-ridicule. Occultis noticed she was heading in the direction she had just come from, apparently leaving the small village that was her goal.

Deciding to reveal herself, Occultis stepped on a large twig nearby to gain the pony’s attention. As expected, the sharp noise brought the azure pony out of her daze. It whipped its head left, then right, scanning the area surrounding her. When it cautiously turned around, its gaze locked onto the figure stepping out of the shadows of a tree.

“Hello there,” the woman stated simply. The pony jumped, pupils dilated slightly, took a larger breath then what would be considered normal, and something glowed slightly within the creature’s hat. Seeing the creatures growing distress, the human slowly raised her hands, showing herself unarmed and not willing to cause harm.

“I don’t aim to harm you, only to communicate with you,” Occultis stated simply. She knew this was a gamble, equines didn’t speak in Tyria, but they also didn’t show such emotions and wear clothing. The pony visibly relaxed slightly. Its breathing eased but that glow still continued beneath its hat.

“Wha- what are you? Wh- Who are you?” stammered the azure pony.

Occultis was surprised it spoke in Common, but gestured to herself and responded, “I am Occultis, I hail from the land known as Tyria, and I am of the human race,” she then nodded toward the pony, “and who are you?”

Its stance grew more serious, the creatures face became slightly radiant and a smile spread across its muzzle, “You stand before the Great and Powerful Triiiiixieeee!”

Author's Note

If anything is amiss, please let me know and I will fix it to the best of my ability.