The Elegy Poetry Society Assembles!

Within this web-shrouded subterranean city, slaughter was by no means confined to the pinnacle of that high tower. Deep in unnoticed shadows, a host of subterranean races were locked by drow elves in numerous cells sealed shut with spiderwebs. The drow paid lip service to overthrowing the oppression of the undead, but in truth, they were hardly any different. These subterranean races were merely slaves, rations, and expendable resources to them. In the Underdark, there was no morality, no mercy—only the raw, unadulterated law of the jungle. And these slaves, who were originally destined to be flayed and deboned, were mysteriously vanishing one by one. Something lurking in the dark seemed to be devouring them whole, mouthful by mouthful. There were no gasps, no screams—only the faintest wet crunching sounds as flesh, blood, and bones were crushed into oblivion, producing a noise that made one's scalp crawl. To prevent the captives from causing trouble, however, the drow had paralyzed them with poison. Their minds were fully lucid, yet their limbs could not twitch. Under this unseen ambush, they perished one after another; the survivors could only watch and wait, praying they wouldn't be next. Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, a drider had been escorting slaves toward the tower, only to suddenly invent an excuse halfway there and dump the duty onto a companion. Once far enough from the squad, the drider melted into the shadows and slipped straight out of the city. Inside a hidden passage connecting to the webbed city, innumerable brambles grew rampant. The drider emerged before the tunnel and stepped into the briars without hesitation. Razor-sharp thorns slashed through his massive body, opening wound after wound. Rank, foul blood seeped from the cuts, yet the blood seemed to carry an eerie red glow that illuminated the thicket of thorns. Advancing step by step, the drider chanted an ode to suffering. The bloody luminescence swirled around his form, gradually condensing into mysterious runes that branded themselves into his flesh before swiftly fading from sight. By the time the drider walked out from the other end of the passage, the sharp brambles had all withered, crumbling into dust and drifting away. The wounds and crimson runes upon his body vanished entirely as well. Yet the pain did not fade. The agony of a thousand cuts was etched deep into his very being. Every passing second, he relived that searing torment, yet an uncontrollable smile played across his face. Pain was a grace. Pain was power. Pain was liberation from all things. Such was the blessing of the Goddess of Pain. Not every drow worshipped Lolth the Spider Queen. For a deity whose doctrine was rooted in betrayal and malice, traitors among the drow were naturally far from scarce. Anbaixiu's anticipation had been spot-on: every goddess was scheming, and each held her own backup plans—more than one, at that. Yet what these goddesses did not know was that the legendary undead of the Elegy Poetry Society had all set their sights on this web-entangled city. *** In an obscure tavern somewhere on the continent, a scruffy, disheveled bard set down the lyre in his hands, wobbling his head as he strolled out the tavern doors. A collective sigh of relief washed over the patrons. The bard's singing had been atrociously dreadful; this returning silence felt like a blessing from the gods. It wasn't as if they hadn't voiced their complaints before, but everyone who had dared object was already hanging from the crooked tree outside. Though they had no idea why he had suddenly stopped, whoever had brought an end to his performance had performed an immense act of virtue. The patrons were more than willing to offer brief yet heartfelt prayers of gratitude to whichever nameless deity was responsible. *** In an ancient underground tomb buried for who knew how many centuries, a desiccated corpse that looked as dry as parchment crawled out of a coffin, opening its mouth to reveal two rows of terrifying fangs. "It's been so long... so long since I tasted fresh flesh and blood." Violent dark mana began converging upon the withered corpse. Shriveled muscles swelled outward once more, and the skull-like visage grew new flesh, leaving only that maw bristling with razor fangs unchanged. *** Far across the sea, in the oceanic depths, an enormous ghost ship lay anchored inside a strait. Teleportation magic arrays on deck flickered ceaselessly as bizarrely shaped zombie sahuagin were sent one batch after another into the Underdark by Captain Aige. Aige instructed her subordinates, "What a pity. The Underdark is hardly a place where I can flex my power. Put on a good show, you lot, and don't tarnish the name of our Silent Night Pirates." *** At the outer sea Dragon Tomb, Gareth and his wife had also stepped onto the teleportation array bound for the Underdark, flanked by a massive host of bone dragons. The Underdark did not count as continental territory. The rules agreed upon with Ryan in the past had never forbidden dragons from entering the subterranean depths. Even though the business about undead having children had turned out to be false, this was the Elegy Poetry Society's first group team-building activity in years. How could Gareth and his wife possibly miss it? Skipping out would make them look horribly unsociable, wouldn't it? Even Heji Stone, the weakest vampire in the group, brought along his blood thralls and set off for the Underdark. He knew full well he would be useless in a brawl, but he still needed to show his face before the seniors of the Elegy Poetry Society. *** Inside the Rose of Decay's imperial palace, over a dozen teleportation arrays blazed with light as members of the Elegy Poetry Society materialized one by one. The Rose of Decay couldn't help musing that if the Society were willing to mobilize en masse to invade Ryan alongside her, Ryan—bereft of its Silvermoon Knight—would surely be destroyed by her hand. Regrettably, she knew that was impossible. She had been a member for a very long time, and more than once she had hoped the others would aid her in annihilating Ryan, willing to pay any price for their assistance. Alas, there had never been the slightest response. Back then, she had assumed the members lacked the power and had no wish to serve as cannon fodder. Now it appeared the senior members simply hadn't cared to help. *"Yet the moment that fellow runs into trouble, every single one of them rushes out to lend a hand?"* The Rose of Decay was not jealous; rather, she was lost in thought. She truly wanted to understand what sort of charm Anbaixiu possessed to rally the entire Elegy Poetry Society into motion. At the same time, her resolve hardened once more: she absolutely had to become family with Anbaixiu. When that time came, her vengeance would be his vengeance, and perhaps the Society would mobilize for his sake once more. *** Having learned through the Necrotic Codex that the Elegy Poetry Society was assembling, Anbaixiu hurriedly slipped out of the tower to find a secluded corner in the webbed city to draw a magic array. Fortunately, this subterranean city was vast, while the drow were relatively few. Many sectors were completely derelict, untouched even by webs, making a concealed spot fairly easy to locate. Finding an abandoned temple, Anbaixiu set to work. Several hours later, a gargantuan blue portal flared to life before him. This was an enhanced Dimension Door. Unlike a teleportation array that functioned in limited batches, once a Dimension Door opened, it created a seamless conduit between both ends like an open tunnel. The transfer speed depended entirely on how quickly troops could march in line. It was an upgraded spatial spell that could only be cast with the backing of the Golden Throne. The portal could remain stable for about three hours, costing Anbaixiu tens of millions of gold coins. Having sunk such heavy upfront capital, he would suffer a catastrophic loss if he didn't earn ten or a hundred times that amount back. The moment the Dimension Door opened, the first to charge through was Gareth the Headless Horseman. Mounted on his eight-legged steed and clad in heavy armor, he nearly trampled Anbaixiu into bone meal as he surged out. Gareth let out a thunderous laugh and boomed, "Haha! Good brother, long time no see!" "Shh! Keep it down! The drow will hear you!" Anbaixiu hissed. Yet Anbaixiu soon realized that staying quiet was entirely out of the question. From the portal, undead of every stripe began pouring out in an endless flood. Skeletons were manageable, but the zombies couldn't resist howling every few paces, and the racket grew deafening in no time. Moments later, an enormous dragon head jammed in the portal's frame, though the hall was already packed to bursting. Anbaixiu finally accepted reality: stealth was impossible. With this many undead, going unnoticed was a pipe dream. Then again, maybe stealth wasn't even necessary anymore. Over a dozen bone dragons had shrunk their bodies to squeeze into the sea of undead, crushing quite a few low-tier skeletons underfoot and forcing the vanguard to spill out beyond the temple walls. Next came a squad of bloated monstrosities three to four meters tall—abominations stitched together from countless corpses, every one of them a high-tier undead. Behind the abominations marched death knights, followed by a cohort of vampires, and finally a drenched contingent of zombie sahuagin. The leader took one look at Anbaixiu and called out excitedly, "Captain's honored guest! We meet again!" "Phil?! You came too?!" Anbaixiu recognized the semi-rotted sahuagin—the pirate squad leader under Aige. "The Captain couldn't easily come to the Underdark herself, so she sent me to help!" Before he even had time to catch up with Phil, several more figures stepped through the portal. A scruffy, disheveled bard; an elegantly poised ghoul; and the Rose of Decay... Oh, Heji Stone was there too, merely hidden behind the others and missed at first glance. Anbaixiu quickly hovered over the sea of undead to greet his companions. No introductions were needed; Anbaixiu recognized them on sight. The ghoul was straightforward enough—undead through and through—but the bard... Anbaixiu couldn't sense the faintest trace of undead aura on him. *Surely there aren't living people in the Elegy Poetry Society, right?* Politely, Anbaixiu said, "Seniors, we finally meet in person. Thank you both for coming to my aid." The bard grinned. "No need to be polite. I was just idling around until my bones started itching." The elegant ghoul chimed in casually, "Makes no difference to me, so long as there's plenty of flesh and blood. Though it never truly fills the belly." Testing the waters, Anbaixiu asked, "Might I know how I should address you two seniors? Calling you by code names feels rather disrespectful." The bard replied offhandedly, "Just call me Poet. That is my life." Anbaixiu felt a twinge of disappointment. He had hoped to glean some clues about the man's identity from his name, but the fellow's lips were sealed tight. The ghoul said with equal nonchalance, "Youjiaxi. It's a name I used many years ago." *Youjiaxi.* It was obviously an alias. The only famous figure Anbaixiu knew of was Doresain, the King of the Ghouls, but that was a mighty lord of the Abyss. Though he hadn't pried loose any real secrets, he had at least established personal ties with these two seniors. "Senior Poet, what are your plans for what comes next? With a commotion this massive, the drow elves will discover us before long," Anbaixiu asked. Poet chuckled. "Pay me no mind. I'm just here to perform a poem for these drow elves; don't ask me about anything else. Since this whole affair started with you and we're here to back you up, you call the shots." Anbaixiu didn't decline. Turning straight to the Rose of Decay, he said, "Lady Rose, you're far better at commanding undead armies than I am. All the forces arriving shortly are under your command. As for the other members of the Elegy Poetry Society, I won't restrict your movements—just put as much pressure on the drow elves as you can. "As for me, I'm going to see just how many plots and ploys those four goddesses have cooked up." The Rose of Decay asked with concern, "You're taking the risk alone?" Anbaixiu nodded. "I have to help Goddess Shar see her plan through. If I promise a deity and fail to deliver, she'll have an excuse to punish me." This was something he couldn't dodge; that dagger had to be driven home. Naturally, whether it actually killed Trisna was none of his concern. The Rose of Decay opened her mouth to dissuade him, but Poet spoke up first. "No need to worry. I'll grant him a blessing." With that, the scruffy bard produced a lyre and swiftly strummed its strings. A bizarre piece of music echoed straight into Anbaixiu's soul. The chords played bore not the slightest resemblance to any melody he had ever heard, defying all description. Certain pitches were so shrill, and others so deep, that they exceeded the physical limits of a lyre... Countless praises and wails seemed to weave into an eerie cadence. Anbaixiu felt his soul tremble. It was thoroughly unpleasant—so unsettling that he felt he never wanted to hear such music again in his life. The strange performance lasted less than ten seconds before Poet declared, "Done. I've placed an effect similar to Death Ward on you; it can ward off three fatal attacks." Upon hearing that, Anbaixiu blurted out, "That sounded magnificent! Could I hear it one more time?!"