Surface of the Necromancers

Necromancer
Necromancer

Chapter I: The Beginning

Noaroh Sumann was the cause of it all.

He had finally succeeded in completing his project that seemed as impossible as it was damned. The young sorcerer, with skills beyond his age and ambitions that were too big for his own good, had invented a way into where the demons lurk, where magics are at their foulest and the origin of all evils — Hell. When he was finished with the ritualistic preparations, he unrolled a scroll covered in Runic writings on the altar before him. The green-haired sorcerer had all that he needed. He had all the Chants, steps, spells, tools and everything else required for the ritual memorized. He will not fail. He must not fail.

And so it begins. As if caught in a trance, Noaroh began mouthing incomprehensible Chants furiously to the human skulls, laid out in a ring in front of him while drawing Patterns in the air with a short wand. He could feel his energy draining as the ritual progressed, and perhaps even his life force, but he could not be sure for no one else had done this before him. Then, an energy so foul consumed his entire being that it almost made him interrupt his own spell. It was almost unbearable. The lean sorcerer’s handsome face creased in disgust, but did not stop his Chants. He had invested far too much time and effort in his research, he could not afford to give up now. The ambitious lad bore through the madness with sheer determination.

At last, Noaroh stopped Chanting and lowered his wand. He was now covered in sweat and left panting. The disgusting energy had disappeared. Everything was back to normal again, except for one. Right in the middle of the ring of skulls was a mix of two colours of greasly black with infernal red, swirling randomly within its invisible borders. Noaroh had no idea how it would be like. The rift looks murderous to enter, yet at the same time he felt like it was calling out to him. The sorcerer took a daring step towards it, admired his own spellwork and curled his lips mischievously. Grabbing his prized wand on the altar, he then proceeded into the warped black-red rift. Cautiously, he first pushed his hands into the portal that would lead him to his Paradise. And when nothing happened, except that his hands felt, to his surprise, warm, Noahroh disappeared into the portal…

*****

Tania Llannor drifted down the usual corridor in her favorite silky, emerald robe that draped around her arms. The beauty bore an uncanny resemblance to an elf with her sharp chin, slightly pointed ears and a flawless, pale complexion. She could turn enough heads as it is without the aid of her striking crimson-red hair.

“Hey, it’s me.” she said over the door, leaning in closer to catch a reply.

But when there came none, she put her slender fingers unto the slightly ajar door and pushed it open s-l-o-w-l-y. The playful elf thought she could pull a little prank on her fiancê if he was too engrossed in his studies to not notice his lady’s presence.

Tania walked into into a room that looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Bookshelves had been toppled over, its contents littered everywhere, the furniture were damaged and turned over. She bit her lower lips as she searched desperately for signs of her fiancê. A table decorated with used candles, parchments and quills, human skulls and bloodstains held the sorceress’ attention. Part of her anxiety subsided when curiosity took over. Why would something like that do in Noaroh’s place? She walked cautiously towards the table which the now-corrupted sorcerer had used as an altar for his demonic ritual and wondered if anyone else was in the house.

A movement stirred at the corner of her eyes.

She spun around quickly, startled.

“Oh… It’s you,” Tania sighed a relief as she saw her fiancê standing outside his bedroom. “Noaroh, are you okay? What happened here?” she continued as she looked around the room again.

“Nothing,” came a voice so cold, so hollow. “I was… yes… experimenting.”

“Experimenting? With what?” she sounded anxious now, she could tell something was not very right with her beloved. He had never acted like this before. He had been so caring, so sweet. “What about the skulls? The blood?”

“Ingredients.” he said sharply.

“Ingredients? For what?!”  she was starting to get angry at his attitude towards her. This isn’t the man she had spent 11, long years of her life with.

The handsome sorcerer, who seemed to have lost all of his radiance now, did not bother to reply her. He chose, however, to present the answer, almost as if proudly, to his wife-to-be instead. A skeleton appeared beside him from where the wall had concealed. The white skeletal puppet made its way towards its master’s lady in an unhurried pace. Its pitch-black sockets stared right at her beautiful green eyes, though they were now filled with aghast. The evil sorcerer’s new pet was intent on its target.

Tania Llanor, an esteemed practitioner of the Lore, and the best one of her times, had never seen anything like that in her entire career.  Summonings of spirit beasts and animals are common sights but… summoning of a skeleton? Never heard of it, never seen of it. Or perhaps it was raised from the dead. Tania Llanor did not know, and certainly now was a bad time for this.

…to be continued (if ever)

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