A Greek Horror Story

By Pier Maria Colombo

Detectives Tasos and Michalis, partners on the local police force, are tasked with trying to solve a string of murders in Athens, Greece. While Michalis believes it was the work of local gangs, Tasos is hell-bent on proving the ritualistic murders were the work of one local man.

Giannis has always been the quiet outcast, but a good son to his parents, according to locals. He spends his days playing tabletop fantasy games and renting out flats to tourists to just barely pay the bills. But Giannis has been acting strange lately, whispering to shadows and searching abandoned houses. His friends are starting to worry; how much do they really know about him?

As the murders stack up, time is running out before mass hysteria sets in on the city. Tasos and Michaelis need to find the killer before he takes the next victim.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Seagull Editions
• Release date: May 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223361084

Book preview

Prologue: The Necromancer

Duck! the half-orc barbarian Rogh shouted, cleaving two of the cultists with her greataxe. The lithe elf druid Arathiel, that had been standing between them, only barely avoided the heavy blade. The druid dodged the two heads that fell next to him, then rolled away.

My faithful serve me unto death as they did while alive, a man shouted. It was the man they had been hunting for quite a while now, Umiel of the Shining City, an infamous necromancer. He started casting a spell, muttering in the arcane language of magic and gesturing wildly with his hands.

No, you don’t, said Gorni the dwarf cleric, and quickly prayed to his god, asking for aid so he could smite evil in all of its forms. A blast of light burst forth from the dwarf’s open palm, hitting the necromancer and interrupting his spellcasting. Jon, don’t slack on the counterspells, he called back to their last party member.

Their wizard, a necromancer on their side called Jon Blackdreams, had his back to them.

Jon, there’s still cultists left, and you’re the only one who can counter Umiel’s spells, Arathiel the druid said. When Jon said nothing, he grew angry. What are you doing, dude?

These cultists, they are bound to have their spellbooks on them, muttered Jon, kneeling next to a corpse. They might have interesting spells in them.

Rogh cut through another cultist, as ten more swarmed them. The room was filled with the robbed figures.

You’ll have time to loot them later, Gorni said, taking a backstep away from a knife that was aimed at his midsection. "After we kill all of them."

Arathiel was fighting three cultists, dodging their blows expertly, but a fourth attacked from behind. The elf screamed out in pain as the cultist’s knife was shoved in his back.

Gorni, help, the elf shouted. The cleric shouldered his way through the fighting figures, dodging expertly, and touched the elf on the back, muttering a prayer to his god.

That’s my last Cure spell, he said. And we’re out of potions.

You’ll soon be out of this world, too, shouted Umiel, laughing in mad delight. He started muttering another spell.

What’s he casting? Rogh asked their wizard. When Jon didn’t answer, she turned to the dwarf cleric. Don’t let him finish it!

I’m out of Smites, the dwarf shouted. Jon, counter him!

The wizard kept searching the corpse by his feet, in his own little world, and Umiel successfully finished his spell. A wave of dark energy swept through the tower room, and all the dead cultists rose to undeath, shambling zombies held together by their master’s vile magic.

Gorni blessed his mace with divine light and hacked down a couple of zombies. Rogh cut through living and undead flesh alike with her axe, and Arathiel called upon his natural magic and turned into a ferocious bear, clawing at their enemies.

Jon stood up from the corpse he had been searching, his face a picture of disappointment. Just as he looked around, he spotted a black leather-bound tome peeking under the robe of one of the zombies. He took a couple daring steps forward then pulled the book free.

Here’s one! Jon shouted. He took a few steps back, safely out of reach of the zombies. Just as more zombies swarmed them, he opened it and begun to leaf through it.

I’ll leave you to your deaths, the necromancer shouted, then started casting another spell.

He’ll escape, Rogh shouted, cleaving another cultist. Gorni, Jon, do something!

Gorni let out a frustrated inarticulate shout, then dodged a wicked-looking ceremonial dagger that was about to cut through his chainmail. He pulled a throwing axe from a hook on his belt and threw it towards the necromancer. It spun through the air making a swishing noise, but it bounced off the wall behind the necromancer’s head, barely missing him.

Jon, counter it, called Gorni. I missed. Jon was muttering strange syllables, Gorni was glad to hear. As he paid attention to the words, he realized the man was just reading through the spellbook. He turned to see him dodging the slow blows of zombies in equally slow movements, his eyes glued on the black tome in his hands. The evil necromancer finished his spell and vanished without a trace.

He’s gone! Rogh shouted in anger. He’s gone, again. Goddamn it, Giannis!

Christos pounded his fists on the wooden table. Goddamn it, Giannis! How many times have we lost Umiel because you don’t counter his spells?

Guys, chill out, Petros said from behind the colorful paper screen he had before him, filled with info tables. You still have cultists to kill. You can argue later. He turned to Eleni. Your turn. What does Arathiel do?

Christos is right, Nikos said loudly. He took a drink from his beer and stood, looking over the tabletop. On one side, there were three heavy-looking books piled up. Next to them was the cloth pouch filled with Petros’ dice. A few of the dice were arrayed before the four players, and Petros had taken some behind his paper screen. Pieces of white copier paper were arrayed on the tabletop, a simple square grid printed on them. A quick outline of the room had been drawn earlier by Petros. Figurines were placed in specific squares to show where their characters were standing, while unused dice served as the enemies.

My barbarian is here, he pointed at a square on the paper map on the table. She couldn’t have interrupted the necromancer’s spellcasting. Your wizard, Giannis, was here, it’s well within the range of the counterspell.

There were spellbooks. I wanted to read their dark spells, Giannis said, standing up as well. His tall body towered over the table and the rest of his friends. I wanted their dark powers.

They’re just necromancers, dude, Eleni muttered, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. She sighed. You already have all necromancy spells of your level.

Petros said they were dark wizards, Giannis said angrily, turning to the dungeon master. You promised me dark magic!

Come on, man, Petros said, his tone almost pleading. You know that in our setting, necromancy is considered dark magic. You’ve had guards stop you before when you used your Raise Dead spell on that girl. That’s what I meant.

"You said dark magic! Necromancy barely qualifies as dark, Giannis shouted. He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. He angrily took out his wallet, and left a five-euro bill on the table. Whatever," he muttered to himself and left their table.

Come back, dude, Petros shouted. The session’s not over. The tall man didn’t turn back as he left the coffee house, the ‘Wizard’s Dungeon’ as it was called, where they met to play.

A long moment of silence came over the table. Nikos sat back down and took another swig from his beer. The others mimicked him, all except Petros, who had already drunk the beer he had ordered.

Petros let out a long, sad sigh. I guess we’ll call it a day here, then. Guys, note your health points and what spell slots you’ve used. We’ll pick it up from here next time.

Why don’t you give him something darker? Nikos asked, half sincerely and half out of frustration.

You remember what happened when he gave him that crystal? The one who supposedly ate souls and fed them to some dark god? Eleni asked, then shivered. The descriptions of the things he wanted to do to those elves...

Yeah, man, Christos said. You shouldn’t encourage him. You didn’t have to say they were dark mages, you could just have said ‘necromancers’ and be done with it.

So, it’s my fault that he’s like that? Petros asked. And I shouldn’t get in the spirit of the game at all? Should it be all cold numbers and dice rolls?

He’s not always like that, Nikos replied. You know that. He just gets in a mood, sometimes.

Petros and Eleni nodded, though Christos just shook his head, then laid back in his chair, trying to relax and let go of the tension that had gathered in his shoulders and arms. He took his cup of beer and stood, then started walking around the Wizard’s Dungeon, looking at the other tables. He approached one where two men he knew were playing a wargame with meticulously painted miniatures and watched them battle it out for a few minutes.

Eleni finished her wine and started packing her character sheet and dice. She turned to Petros. Don’t forget we need to get groceries before going home.

Sure thing, sweetie, Petros muttered.

He didn’t like leaving a session in the middle. He took down a few notes, sure the others wouldn’t be meticulous enough in their notetaking or that they’d find the opportunity to cheat and get a spell or two back next time. Though that