Overpowered Wizard

“Well, would you look at that? A whole battlefield with loot ripe for the taking.”

Dawson stood on the edge of a castle-cliff with a ragged hole in the dilapidated wall. Behind him, over a thousand men shuffled to a stop, breathing hard or light depending on their physical abilities and stats. They all had large packs half-filled with travel provisions and half-empty for storing away new loot.

In front of Dawson, he saw a drop that was three hundred feet deep before merging with an oblong basin littered with corpses. He saw signs of destructive fighting that must’ve happened three or four weeks ago. It had to be the type of fighting best done by Level 100s and Master Rankers.

To Dawson’s left, a gaping sinkhole remained where the infamous Castle Grimrock should’ve stood. To Dawson’s right, there stood a massive and perfectly aligned wall that was as smooth and new as a baby’s bottom. The wall looked like heaven’s testament of what fortification craftsmanship should look like.

That wall was certainly not supposed to be there. It made all the other ancient walls of the Grimrock Castle Mountains look like shit.

Dawson squinted and saw at the middle of the grand wall a narrow slit, tighter than a virgin’s bum. It was the only proper opening where one could cross through to reach the other side. It didn’t seem like many of the abhorrent monsters of Shadowfell made it.

Instead, their corpses filled the deep ditches in front of the grand wall and lay about as a carpet of grotesque rot on one side of the battlefield. That was the side that had the gaping sinkhole where Castle Grimrock should’ve stood.

That was fine and dandy with Dawson, because on the other side of the wall were other corpses. Mostly of the human persuasion.

A bunch of dead paladins remained with their forgotten armor and weapons shining under the afternoon sun of Mid Summer. Based on the shine alone, most of that gear was above rare quality.