Speaker 1: The Necromancer of Pricene contains adult content and may not
be suitable for children. Parental guidance is suggested. In the
world of Turinlay rests an enormous island called Pricene. The
nation of Pricene is governed by a king and council,
though the real power rests in the hands of ten
cursed immortals, powerful supernatural figures who serve only their self interests.
The land is plagued with black blooded monsters, corrupt political leaders,
and bloodthirsty bandits, and the one man who is willing
to stand up to them all just so happens to
be an unholy abomination, a summoner of the undead, the
Necromancer of Pricene.
Speaker 2: Welcome back, my fellow scoundrels, outcasts and miscreants. Allow me
to summarize what's happened thus far. The Festival of the
Faded four was interrupted by an attack from several creatures
that Rath called Gorikthin. I played hero and was rewarded
with the Singe Blade, Rath's personal weapon, piercing my back.
Rath saved my life by taking me back to his
house and nursing me back to health. He told me
of the Watchers, the Cursed, and the Woe Shards. After
Rath left to pick up supplies, I searched his house
for my life seats. I didn't find them, but I
did find Rath's journal, and the contents were much more
disturbing than I had anticipated. I'm still at Rath's house
in Willow's Bend, but I'm beginning to think it's time
to go. My name is Charts. I have the ability
to reanimate the dead, and I'm on a quest to
kill Torch, leader of the Watchers and the most powerful
man in Pricing. I just need to get out of here.
First chapter eight captive, my shoulder and chest throbbed with
the relentless rhythm of a hammer on steel. Turns out
that being stabbed with a cursed weapon, well, it hurts.
The dull thumping had spread to my skull, pulsing in
time with my heartbeat, each thud a painful reminder of
being stabbed in the fucking back. After discovering Rath's journal,
the sense of urgency to find my life seeds returned.
I looked around the bedroom in the adjacent lounge, but
no seeds. I eventually returned to the journal to scour
the last few entries, hoping Rath had mentioned them in
the pages. He did not. I found one of Rat's
button up shirts and put it on with the intention
of leaving the house. But two hours of searching and
moving about left me teetering on the edge of collapsing.
My vision blurred and my legs felt as though they'd
been carved from stone. I needed a rest, just for
a moment before heading out, so I lay back in
bed to recover a little of my strength. That moment
stretched longer than intended, and I woke to the sound
of someone clearing their throat, a low rumble that jolted
me awake. Wrath stood in the doorway, his pock marked
face cast in shadow by the dim light. One eyebrow
raised in silent inquiry. His presence was unnervingly calm, but
his expression demanded an explanation. My mouth opened to provide
a hastily constructed excuse, but the words died on my
lips as my gaze darted to the desk, the desk
where I'd read through the Watcher's diary. Panic tightened my chest,
and I remembered to stow the books back in their
secret cubby before I fell asleep. Rat's eyes caught the
flicker of my panic. His head turned, following my gaze
toward the desk. My heart clenched as I braced for
the inevitable, But to my immense relief, we both found
his desk precisely the way he had left it.
Speaker 3: What were you doing out of bed?
Speaker 2: I was stretching, as you suggested.
Speaker 3: Did you stretch your way into one of my shirts?
Speaker 2: Oh? Yeah, mine's ruined and I can give it back
if you'd like.
Speaker 3: No, it's all yours. You've probably already bled on it. Anyway.
I was planning to buy you a few shirts, and
probably still should since mine is a little tight on you.
Speaker 2: It fits all right.
Speaker 3: And why were you out of bed? I explicitly remember
telling you to stay in bed. You could have fallen
and opened your stitches.
Speaker 2: And needed to stretch my legs.
Speaker 3: I think we would get along much better if we
didn't lie to one another, don't you agree?
Speaker 2: I I wanted to check on my stuff.
Speaker 3: Did you think I steal from you? You have nothing
material that I desire. I placed your travel gear and
jem in the chest at the end of your bed.
I even placed your money on the ledge, so you
would see that I did not rob you. The only
thing I'm interested in is you.
Speaker 2: I had seeds in my cloak. They're missing.
Speaker 3: Oh the acorns. I found them in your jacket. You
weren't eating those, were you? Black oak acorns should be
leached before you eat them.
Speaker 2: No, I wasn't eating them.
Speaker 3: Good. I was going to leach them for you before
we left.
Speaker 2: You didn't do that, though, Right, No, where are they?
Speaker 3: I put them in the cupboard next to the walnuts.
Speaker 2: Could I have them back there? Sentimental to me?
Speaker 3: Sentimental? Sure, I'll get them.
Speaker 2: A wave of relief washed over me as Rath left
the room for the kitchen, his heavy steps fading into
the distance. My seeds were still here, and he wasn't
aware of their importance. In typical charts fashion, I panicked
and exhausted myself searching for the life seeds when all
I had to do was simply ask as usual, I
can't help but take the hard path. A thought occurred,
maybe I was making this whole thing more complicated than
it needed to be. Wrath, for all his unnerving journal entries,
an ominous demeanor had taken care of me. He hadn't
stolen from me. In fact, he'd gone out of his
way to return my items and nurse me back to health.
Why would a cursed watcher, someone with nearly limitless resources,
have any use for my meager possessions. Maybe I'd let
my mistrust spiral out of control. Frank would have said
that I was stealing problems from tomorrow. He would have
told me to worry about the present, And just then
the present demanded I get better so I could get
back to Frank. But then, like a slap to the face,
the words Wrath had said moments ago, came rushing back
to me. I was going to leach them for you
before we left. Before we left left for where panic
prickled at the edges of my thoughts. I couldn't go
with him anywhere. Frank was waiting for me, alone and vulnerable.
And even if he wasn't, I wouldn't want to go
with Wrath anywhere. He was not only a watcher, but
one of the Cursed. Everything about him, everything he stood for,
was a contradiction to my purpose. The advents, the Watchers,
the cursed. It all led to one man, Torch, the
most powerful man in pri scene. The one person I
needed to kill. That's the whole reason I'd been following
the advents.
Speaker 3: Here you go, Your acorns are safe. Do you feel
better now?
Speaker 2: Oh? Uh yeah, thank you.
Speaker 3: You're welcome. Now. Please do not get back out of
bed until I permit you. It is for your own benefit,
Wrath call me Ben, Please.
Speaker 2: Ben, you said before we left, What does that mean?
Speaker 3: I need to determine why you are immune to the
WO shards. I was able to document your healing journey,
but there is still much I do not understand. Charts,
you might be one of the biggest discoveries of our time. Unfortunately,
Willows Ben does not have the resources I need to
conduct this study. So I'm taking you with me back
to my home in Dawsner.
Speaker 2: In Dawsner, I can't go to Dawsner because I know.
Speaker 3: It's a bit of a trip, but I have secured
a coach so you can travel comfortably while you recover. Also,
I know this is likely disruptive to your current travel plans,
but rest assured you will be compensated for your time.
Speaker 2: I have other obligations that I have to see to.
Speaker 3: What are they. I can make arrangements with Big George
to have them cared for.
Speaker 2: Well, there can I have time to think about this.
Speaker 3: I understand your hesitation, but this is bigger than you, Charlton.
Speaker 2: I just I just don't think I can do this.
I appreciate you taking care of me, but I need
to leave. I can't go with you. I'm sorry.
Speaker 3: No, Charlton, I'm sorry. At some point I must have
given you the impression that you have a choice in
the matter. You do not. You are going with me
to Dawsner. We are going to meet with my colleague
and I'm going to solve you.
Speaker 2: Do you understand am I a prisoner.
Speaker 3: I hope that is not the case. I would like
to work with you together as a team. Then you
will be compensated for your assistance. If I'm right, you
possibly go down in history for your contributions. You will
be known as the man immune to wo sharks. You
will be legendary. But that is only if you come voluntarily.
If you are unwilling to assist, then I'll be forced
to detain you and you will reap none of the benefits.
We don't want that, do we, charts, No, we don't
want that.
Speaker 2: Good.
Speaker 3: Now, get some rest. We are leaving in the morning.
Speaker 1: The Necromancer of Pricene will return after these messages.
Speaker 2: Hey everyone, if.
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Speaker 2: The next day passed in a blur. Wrath attended to
the travel arrangements with methodical efficiency and rarely left me
alone for more than a few minutes. At some point
he handed me another dose of that rowan leaf concoction,
a blend of agave and muddled blackberries. I drank it
without complaint, and it pulled me into another deep, dreamless sleep.
When I woke, I discovered Wrath had gone out and
returned with supplies for the journey. Among them was a
wardrobe to replace the few clothes I had lost when
the rust had saw burned. It was more than I'd
ever owned, or really needed to own. A few shirts,
a couple pairs of pants, some stockings, and undergarments had
always done the job for me. The case Wrath had
stocked with my new, more expansive wardrobe was also quite
a step up from my old, battered pack. At first,
I felt a twinge of gratitude. No one had ever
made such an extravagant purchase on my behalf. But as
I watched Rath carefully pack my coin pouch, travel kit
and Emerald into the case, reality settled in. This wasn't generosity.
Money was no concern for one of the cursed. His
attention to detail wasn't care. It was control. Whatever freedom
I thought I had left was dwindling fast. As time passed,
we spoke no more than twenty words to one another.
There was nothing left to say. I was his prisoner,
He was my warden. I concocted a dozen different ways
of escape, which all crumbled under the weight of two
harsh truths. My body wasn't ready for it, and Wrath
was always close enough to crush any attempt. So I
bided my time, restless and helpless. The day turned to night,
and the night to morning. Rath packed the carriage with
speed and efficiency. The man was a perfectionist organized in particular,
the enclosed two horse coach was immaculate and clearly built
for long journeys. Its ornate design and reinforced structure spoke
of wealth and importance. But I only saw it as
my cage. Wrath helped me into my seat and then
closed the door, leaving me alone in the carriage. I
nearly broke my silent protest to ask him where he
was going when I heard the sound of a bolt
sliding into place from the outside. I was truly trapped,
and he illusion I still held of autonomy shattered outside.
I heard him climb into the driver's box and snap
the reins, and just like that, we were on the
road to Dawsner, the wheels beneath us creaking like the
slow grind of inevitability. Now I know you're probably thinking
to yourself, Charts, isn't this exactly what you wanted? You've
been following the advent so that you could get close
to the Watchers, and here you are riding with one
of their elite. Fair point, But there's something vastly different
between stalking a group of people toward your intended target,
and being held prisoner by one of your target's most
trusted colleagues. From what I found in raths journals, I
don't believe he's planning to give me the freedom I
would need to accomplish my goals, or any freedom for
that matter. I stared out the carriage's thin windows as
we rolled on. I measured the frames in my head
and decided they were too small and I was too
sore to attempt to slip through them. My thoughts wandered
to Frank, who I'd been alone in the meadow for
the last week. He depended on me, and I'd abandoned him.
I'd failed my only friend. To distract myself from the
endless fall into self pity, I reached under the opposite
bench and pulled out the new travel case Wrath had
packed for me. The clothes and the case together must
have cost at least twenty crowns. I swapped the shirt
I had taken from Wrath for one of the new ones.
At the bottom of the case, neatly folded was my
old travel cloak. Wrath had stitched it back together and
cleaned it. I hadn't noticed when he packed it, and
the sight of it sent a rush of emotions through me.
It was a small piece of myself, the only thing
I could still call my own. I tucked the life
seeds into the hidden pocket, folded the cloak with care,
and returned it to the case. As I slid the
case back under the bench, I heard a faint knock
from beneath the floorboards. I ignored it at first, assuming
the carriage had rolled over loose stones or uneven ground.
But then it came again, deliberate and distinct. My eyes
snapped to the floor, where I noticed a section of
the boards shifting. I pulled back the thick rug in
the center of the carriage, revealing a hidden hatch door.
Before I could fully process what was happening, the door
opened to reveal Anya's face, wearing an overly eager, conspiratorial grin.
My jaw dropped as she placed two fingers on her lips,
urging silence. She popped up through the floor of the
still moving carriage like a jack in the box, and
sat cross legged on the bench next to me. Anya,
what are you doing here?
Speaker 4: I came to save you?
Speaker 2: How and why?
Speaker 4: There we the floorboards, obviously, and because I was bored.
Speaker 3: Because you were bored.
Speaker 2: Never mind? How did you know I was here?
Speaker 4: I heard you chatting with Raf yesterday and I figured
you probably didn't want to go with him, so I'm
here a.
Speaker 3: Spring ya you heard me talking to you?
Speaker 4: Know what?
Speaker 2: Never mind? This is great, let's go.
Speaker 4: Can't yet, We gotta wait for a few There's a
river coming up around the bend. It'll be noisy and
we can drop out of the bottom of the carriage.
Speaker 2: Then, okay, sounds good.
Speaker 4: You still gotta be quiet when we drop, though. I
know your shoulder's hurting, but you gotta try to keep
it down, all right.
Speaker 2: Yeah, I'll do my best.
Speaker 4: Is there anything we need to take with us?
Speaker 2: That travel case right there, it has my stuff in it.
Speaker 4: I'll take care of that. You should put this.
Speaker 2: In your mouth, a dirty rag.
Speaker 4: It's not that dirty, and it'll help keep you quiet.
When we drop, we'll probably hit the ground hard, and
I don't want you making a haula.
Speaker 2: How did you know about the hatch?
Speaker 4: I checked out Wrath's carriage days ago while you both
were busy. He already installed the hatch. I assume for
nefarious reasons. Last night, he packed several of his cases
in the storage area below Lada while y'all were sleeping.
I took two of his cases out and hid down there.
That's where we're going out. Now, put the rag in
your mouth and get ready.
Speaker 2: I did. Anya grabbed my travel case and plopped herself
butt first through the floor and into the storage area.
I followed more cautiously, mindful of my wounded right shoulder.
The sound of the river grew louder, rushing past like
a distant roar of applause for our imminent freedom. Anya
opened the side panel of the storage section with a
quick turn. She rolled herself out of the carriage and
into the tall swaying weeds along the roadside. I took
a deep breath, the rags still clenched between my teeth,
and followed her to freedom. Anya was right. I hit
the ground extremely hard, and it hurt like torches pike.
The rag in my mouth did its job, muffled the
sharp cry of pain that would have alerted wrath to
our escape. The rushing river masked the sounds of my
graceless roll from the road into the cover of the woods.
It took me several minutes to regain my composure and
catch my breath. Anya waited, quiet and watchful, her sharp
brown eyes following the carriage as it continued down the road.
Speaker 4: I think he's far enough away we should be safe
to stop moving. Are you okay?
Speaker 2: Yeah? Yeah, I'm all right?
Speaker 4: Did you stitches? Taya?
Speaker 2: I don't think so.
Speaker 4: All right, then let's get going. There's a trail about
a half a mile up. We're gonna take that trail
and head to a place I.
Speaker 2: Know I can't. I need to go back to Willow's Bend.
Speaker 4: I don't think you should go back there. Wrath is
certain to find you missing soon, and the first place
he's gonna look as Willow's Bend. You should come with
me and I'll keep you safe.
Speaker 2: Look, I know it's not safe, but Frank is back there.
I left him behind, and I need to get him
before someone else finds it.
Speaker 4: Someone will already found Frank.
Speaker 2: Ah, by the grace of Rowan, is he okay?
Speaker 4: Of course he is. It was me I went and
got him the day after Rath stole ya. He's safe.
I'll take you to him if you stop John and
start following.
Speaker 2: Anya, You're amazing, I know.
Speaker 1: So.
Speaker 2: Yeah, how are the people in Willows Ben doing after
the attack.
Speaker 3: They'll recover.
Speaker 4: Lots of people died and lots more were injured. They
had a big funeral for everyone that passed. It was
real sad. Did Rath tell you that your stuff got
all burned up with the inn?
Speaker 2: Yeah? He mentioned that he bought me some new clothes though,
and he gave me my money back.
Speaker 4: Still got your thieves, Yeah, he gave me those back
as well. Good. I was worried that he would have
taken him me too.
Speaker 2: Do you know what happened with the advents?
Speaker 4: Those chumps they took off after the fighting came to
an end. They stole some coins from the dead people
and skipped down as soon as they could.
Speaker 2: So much for the faded four of Willows, Ben.
Speaker 4: I'm sure they'll still be telling people all about their
heroic deeds with the bandits.
Speaker 2: You know which way they went?
Speaker 4: Nah? They left while I was listening in on you
and Wrath. People were a bit sore about it, so
I didn't want to bring it up in nothing. The
townsfolk are trying to figure out a new constable now,
and some of Big George's family were killed in the attacks.
Speaker 2: What a mess, sure, is Anya? Where are we going.
Speaker 4: I found an old hunting cabin, a really nice one too.
It ain't been used in a long time, but it's
still in good shape. I've been holding up there with
Frank and getting ready to spring you.
Speaker 2: I really can't believe you saved me, and you saved Frank.
I owe you so much. Yeah, truly, I owe you
a huge debt. Whatever you need. If I can do it,
I will for real.
Speaker 4: You promise. I promise good, because I have a surprise
for you at the cabin. You do, sure, I do,
but you gotta wait until we get there.
Speaker 2: Anya winked at me, then flashed her devilish grin. Something
about that look told me I wasn't going to enjoy
whatever surprise she had for me at the cabin. We
took the side path, the trail, winding through dense brush
and the uneven ground, testing my battered body with every step.
The cabin was closer than I expected, a small mercy
given how every inch of me ached from head to toe.
Anya had chosen the river as the rescue point, knowing
it would drown out any sounds of our escape and
keep us close to her hideout clever by the time
we arrived I was practically dragging myself another mile and
I probably would have keeled over right there in the dirt.
The cabin was grander than I had imagined, two stories tall,
with a wrap around porch that hinted at better days.
It looked like something out of an old painting. Two
chimneys stretched skyward, one on each side of the house,
while an overgrown garden of wild tomatoes and potatoes sprawled
across the eastern side of the house. A pair of
gnarled apple trees rested between the house and an underground shelter.
The sheltered doors were locked and barred, and vines had
already begun their slow crawl up the weathered wood, blending
the doors into the earth around them. I paused at
the edge of the clearing to catch my breath.
Speaker 4: We're here. How you doing.
Speaker 2: Good now that we've made it.
Speaker 4: Frank's inside the cabin.
Speaker 2: That looks more like a house.
Speaker 4: If you say so.
Speaker 2: What's in the shelter?
Speaker 4: I don't know. I didn't look in there yet. Want
to check it.
Speaker 2: Out maybe later?
Speaker 4: All right?
Speaker 2: Anya, Yeah, you said you had a surprise for me.
Is that inside too?
Speaker 4: Nope, that's around the back of the house under the top.
Speaker 2: Can you tell me what it is? Or must I wait?
Speaker 4: You don't want to see it first? I think it'll
be more of a surprise.
Speaker 2: I think i'd rather you just tell me.
Speaker 4: That's not fun, but if that's what you want. Do
you remember how I told you that some of the
villagers died? Yeah, well I grabbed a few of them,
only the ones that still looked good to move and stuff.
Speaker 2: When you save them, you mean the bodies.
Speaker 4: I had to dig them up. It was a real pain,
but I was able to get them to the cabin.
Speaker 2: Honya. Why did you dig up those bodies so you
could raise them up? And why would I want to
do that?
Speaker 4: Do you remember when you said you owed me a
life debt?
Speaker 2: Yes?
Speaker 4: But well you promised, so I'm gonna I need your
help with something real? Big?
Speaker 2: How big?
Speaker 3: The biggest?
Speaker 2: What is it?
Speaker 4: Wea gonna kill? The King?
Speaker 1: Charts is voiced by Josh Allen. Benjamin Wright aka Rath
is voiced by Ray O'Hare. Anya Esh is voiced by
Blithe Renee. Audio engineering by Adam Colbertson and Richard Collins,
editing by Tisha Zeng. Music provided in part by Elizabeth
Blakeley and written by Nico Rodriguez. The Necromancer of Pricene
is a Creative Typo Entertainment production. For more information about
this show, our cast, or other shows under Creative Typo,
please check out our website at www dot creative typo
dot com. And thank you thanks for listening. A very
special thank you to our executive producers from Patreon, Nick
Mead and Patrick t Arsenal