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The first wave staggers towards us, disturbingly quiet—no snarls, no roars, just the unsettling clatter of bone against stone. Sass ducks behind a cart for cover, her scarlet robes blending surprisingly well with the blood stains on its wood. She fights with cool efficiency, fire magic streaking from her staff in searing bursts, each one slamming right into a wretchling’s ribcage. Meanwhile, I charge straight in, broadsword gleaming as it cleaves through brittle skeletons with satisfying crunches, fragmented bones raining around me like confetti at some deeply unsettling party.
Normally Sass would poke fun at my complete lack of tactics. Something along the lines of: Wow, top marks for subtlety! Straight in with no plan. Why not close your eyes next time for extra chaos? But tonight? Nothing.
The silence feels heavier than any blow a wretchling could land.
I try to lighten the mood because clearly I’m incapable of just leaving things alone. After cleaving a wretchling’s skull from his body, I type out one of my classic dad jokes.
LochNLoad
Why didn’t the skeleton join the fight? He didn’t have the guts!
And . . . nothing. Not even one of Sass’s signature eye-roll emojis.
Fine then—round two. After hacking down two wretchlings who’d been trying (and failing) to flank me, I send her another.
LochNLoad
What do skeletons say to each other before a meal? Bone appétit!
Still nothing. You know that sinking feeling when a joke bombs so badly you worry even imaginary video game monsters might start heckling you? No? Just me then? Luckily, rather than throwing a tomato at me, Sass shoots a fireball past me to incinerate a wretchling that was about to slice my back.
“Thanks,” I mutter aloud. Hey, if I can’t talk to her, I can at least talk to myself, right?
The final cluster of wretchlings seems to sense their days are numbered because they hit us all at once—a coordinated swarm from multiple directions. One of them leaps from an overhead balcony (nice touch there, devs), but I manage to slice it clean in two in midair. Meanwhile, Sass sends out a swirling inferno that engulfs half the courtyard and reduces four fiends to smouldering piles of ash.
“Nice one,” I murmur. Yep, still talking to myself.
We clear out what remains without much trouble—well, unless you count my health bar dipping dangerously low after I mistime another dodge because I’m too busy glancing at the chat in the corner for any signs of life from Sass.
Finally, with the courtyard secure and no new horrors emerging from the shadows (yet), I down a health potion then we approach the massive oak doors leading into Dun Speir’s central tower. They groan open dramatically—because why wouldn’t they?—revealing shadowy corridors lit by flickering green torches whose flames sputter unnaturally against invisible drafts.
Here we go again.
Inside is exactly what you’d expect from a cursed fortress: ancient staircases spiralling upwards towards God knows what; tattered tapestries hanging limply, their faded patterns barely visible; and an ambient hum that sounds suspiciously like someone whispering ominous obscenities directly into your soul.
More wretchlings spawn as we ascend, now with armour pieces strapped haphazardly across their fragile frames, but their strategy isn’t any different from before, and they’re no match for me and Sass.
I try another joke as we climb the tower because clearly I haven’t learned my lesson yet.
LochNLoad
What’s a skeleton’s favourite musical instrument? The trombone!
Still nothing from Sass. Damn it, I thought that one would have at least got a groan—it was truly awful. She was being serious when she said no chatting.
We advance through Dun Speir’s endless maze of stairs and hallways until finally we reach what must be the boss chamber: enormous double doors etched with glowing runes that pulse faintly like a heartbeat.
Before heading in, I try one last time to chat with Sass. Silent treatment or not, we need a game plan. This isn’t going to be some minor scrap with a few wretchlings. This is a boss fight, and Highland Legacy boss fights are always brutal.
LochNLoad
Look, I know you don’t want to chat today, but we need to discuss strategy. I think I should use the Claymore of the Clan Chiefs. That’ll leave me exposed, though.
The weapon Sass won after we defeated the Cù Sìth, and which she gifted to me after I admitted my interest in a bit of power play, is a massive two-handed sword. It’s practically guaranteed to inflict devastating melee damage on the boss, but using it means no shield, no pistol, and—worst of all—no health potions. Yes, for some sadistic reason the game doesn’t let you heal yourself when you’re using a two-handed weapon, and there’s rarely a chance to switch gear in the middle of a boss battle.
LochNLoad
I’ll need you to watch my back, Sass. Keep those healing spells coming, all right?
