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Rathgar
20-11-2005, 12:54
I was feeling a bit unhinged so I wrote an entry in a Necromancer's diary. Short, but hopefully sweet! Comments welcome.

////

My death shall be an awakening, from this dream I live.

Oh what a dull dream! A pale spectre of that which is true. These erroneous concepts of life, of death, of dreams fool me no longer. Through my eyes, my eyes closed my whole existence, my walking dream, are open. Opened at last. I can see! I can see the fiery blazes of passion the cool icy flows of logic and the sinuous serpent of the crossing. I need no coins for the boatman! I command him, see how he ferries spirits for me?!

Flickering are the thoughts I see, shapeless concepts, vortexes of though, of emotion shimmer behind this crude curtain that is all that is physical. Ha! Matter is a cage, a chain, binding us to blindness. "The void must not be shown" they cry "our fates should not be shown!", they ensnare us in ignorance and call it bliss. Bliss! While daemons cackle inches away, and worlds away. Can they not see them? I can see them now, my hand can push aside this rotting curtain of the world and touch them… how they cower from my hand! What new power have I? But how I fear them. I shall not go! This is my world, not the charade of life but the purity and stasis of the moment of ending. Between two worlds is my sanctuary, the truth behind the lies of our priests, our kings, our gods. I shall endure!

My will is stronger. Oh god of dreams! Past master Morr, can you see what I now see? See what has been gifted to me? You are no more protection from the abyss than a feather against a raging tempest. You are worse! You fuel the fire that brings nothingness. Consumed! We are consumed while daemons cackle. Daemons who are gods, who are men, who are thought, who are the wind. The wind that stills my heart, my soul. No, my heart is stilled but vigour fills my soul, for it is not yours grim smiling boatman! I shall endure. I shall not be undone by this wind. It shall pass round me, through me. See? It cannot harm me! I shall exist on.

I can see others already…such a world I have been denied! How could I live as I did? Others, others everywhere, they are so weak. They are mine! Echoes of last moments, last thoughts. So much lost, lost to the tempest. Yet, I am so much stronger. See how I bind them? I beckon and they come.

Your fell wind will not tear chunks from my essence!! Your daemons will not cackle, they will stand silent, they will cower from my gaze as they cower from my hand even now! I shall endure. Clear, crystal, pure, ever-the-same, ever unconquerable, ever still, ever here. As the blood drinkers, as Nagash, as Great Alluminas.

I shall endure. If only my voice remains, I will endure.

vforvenator
24-11-2005, 17:16
Brilliant stuff - give that man a bone. :skull:

Grom
28-11-2005, 20:26
.... :eek:

Wow! Fantastic!

Rathgar
09-01-2006, 13:27
Ok. more maddness

//

Dazh’s fiery chariot ascends the heavens once more.

And his searing light burns away not only the stars by my new found clarity. Lost are my vision of last eve. Alas, the veil has descended and blind I am become. No! I can here them, whispering, darting in the corner of my vision. The veil is weakened. Perhaps, through more study I can tear it asunder again. A knocking comes. What hour is this? Who disturbs me? No matter, I shall heed them not.

The words of my last entry seem alien to me, as if scrawled in a hand not my own. Yet, I can clearly recall penning them. And recall the grim grinning face of the boatman I spoke of. My enemy he has become, I fear him more than ever. Mayhaps, my revelation was just a fleeting glimpse of enlightenment, cruelly snatched from me. I must study further. I shall not be denied the knowledge I crave

//


Darkness! Darkness is the key. At night I can see… when the fell moon shines the subtle curtain is obliterated and reality stands for me to marvel at. How it terrifies me. How it elates me Colours swim like misty snakes and turn hither and thither. Faces without eyes stare at me. Daemons and spirits! Still the cackling monsters haunt me. But….yes….they fear me now. Always just out of my sight they are darting as I turn. Ha! Their laughter is hollow. I am the master here!

vforvenator
10-01-2006, 16:27
Quite emotive, good stab at ye olde language too, if a tad over dramatic perhaps? I've long imagined a Necromancer's character to be cold, efficient and emotionally void, possessed of a grave and materialistic spiritual disposition, a grim and pessimistic view on life in general. But I don't know. So what's he doing? What is going on?
Also, where is Nagash referred to as the Great Alluminas?

Rathgar
10-01-2006, 16:52
He's not a Necromancer yet... he’s a scholar that’s developing Witch-Sight through reading books he kinda shouldn’t. As to the rest, I’m going to add an entry whenever I can be bothered to. So you’ll have to wait see. It’s a bit over dramatic coz he’s going insane (in the membrane).

Glad you like :D

Rathgar
16-01-2006, 12:41
//

Mysteries! All my life I have sought to uncover them, and they have run from me, or worse, cloaked themselves in doubt so that from one answer spring a multitude of questions. Yet within this tome (so much lighter than many of the others that clutter my library!) I am given the hope that some answers are terminal. Do all lines of thought and investigation eventually lead to some great nexus, wherein the secrets of the world are laid bare? It is my profound hope that they do.

This book has granted me more knowledge than I could ever have hoped. Words on the parchments I obtained from the Arabian merchant all those years ago, once so alien to me, now swim and melt and change: their meanings clear, as if it were Riekspiel! What secrets do they hold?

They speak of mathematics, astrology and of preserving the departed. How long has this knowledge been lost to man?

//

I must be rid of it! The grinning skull leers at me from my dreams. This gastly visage seems burned into my eyelids so that I fear to close them. There must be something. I am desperate.

How can I sleep whilst Morr’s boatman treads every step after me? I can feel his breath. It is as stale as the grave.

Rathgar
26-02-2006, 09:20
Hey guys. Sorry no updates for a bit, hope this lot bellow will keep you interested:

(Things are going to start getting nasty pretty soon...)


//

Words can scarce describe my elation! I can move the coils of colour with my mind, and what is more; they can effect the physical world. I cast my worthless books side with a simple gesture of my hand and the Khemrian incantation!

//

How fast the world moves! Today I left my studies to buy herbs with which to mix a potion to try to aid my rest. I cannot sleep, why does The Lord of Dream's torment me in his realm? I shall be rib of both his realms, soon… and then I shall be rid of fear.

But for now, I must have rest; my eyes sting and my head throbs… and yet I cannot shut out this hellish world. Maybe my old skills in herb-lore with still serve, I'm sure that I will suffer no side effects of potion brewing this time.

//

SPIDERS!!!

//

Last night, I dreamed.

I was drowning. In a black and churning sea. I could not keep afloat. Cold hands grasped at me from the depths. Thick viscous horror filed my lungs. The icy talons of despair ripped at my heart! And then; a great wave caught me and flung me. I languished then upon a shore of marble white stones. A cast my gaze upward and beheld a great white mountain, so clear and pure it shone from within. Staggering to me feet, I resolved to scale this luminescent peak, for it seemed to me that some great truth was held therein.

There was no sound on this pure island of light, no gentle splash of breaking waves nor quite rustle of rushing air through my hair or soaking garments. The clime was arduous, as the bright surface of the holy mountain was smooth as if polished, and my clawing fingers gained little purchase. As I neared the summit, my joints screaming their protests and my palms burning form the icy cold frictionless rock. It occurred to me that the mount tapered to a plateau.

And as I reached and stumbled on to the flat surface; I was bathed in light. My eye's stung, yet did not burn. For the light was as cold as the mountain. There sat a man, his features obscured by the brilliance, for his very robes were the light. Upon his head a crystal crown sparkled, and his long colourless hair cascaded over his shoulders. He looked at me, looked into me. And he smiled.

I have never felt such a powerful sense of calm and purpose. If a world such as that can be created, it should be.

Silent Surrender
02-03-2006, 21:46
I love your writing style, even thought I dont understand some words :p

Its great how you describe his feelings, the selfconfidence, the superiority.

this is material for GW books, really gives alot of inspiration.

Good work!

Rathgar
03-03-2006, 03:24
I love your writing style, even thought I dont understand some words :p

Because of my spelling you mean? Sorry will try to proofread better :p

Thanks very much for the coments.

//

I can see… speech. Words have form, oh what subtle form! White wisps of order shattered but the tides of colour that ebb and flow though the world. I can shape them, I can create vast sculptures of concepts. I fashioned a great tree from nothing more than chanting "truth and stasis". For hours I stood, my throat became raw and my tongue cracked as I fashioned it. What a marvel my tree was! Endless entwining braches that contracted into nothingness at their points. Such beauty, and I created it… with only my powers reason and my voice!

Alas, shattered was my great master work from that infernal knocking that so oft assails me. I flew into a great rage, flinging my lantern at the door and casing the burning oil to spill across the ground. Ha! Fire, how impotent it is now that the subtle strands are mine to harness. A gesture and a word, no more! No more than that to snuff out any fire that should have designs to sear my flesh...


//

Hideous Loon
03-03-2006, 08:19
Sounds well-good, yes? I like how you're building the tensions up, without hurrying. That's in fact one of the things I like the best in a writer.

Silent Surrender
03-03-2006, 11:29
Nonono I didnt mean like that, your spelling is good. Just that english aint my main language :)

Rathgar
04-03-2006, 07:47
Nonono I didnt mean like that, your spelling is good. Just that english aint my main language :)

Oh right! Sorry, I'm notorious for bad spelling and sometimes things slip through the spell checker.

Right a question people, do you think he's developing his magical abilities too fast? There are two directions I'm thinking of taking this story in. Either A. Much more study and slow corruption or B. Sudden revelation and fast progression of the story.

Which do you want?

Hideous Loon
04-03-2006, 10:13
A mixture would probably be for the best, a slow progression to maintain the sense of slow corruption, and some rushes of revelation (not much at a time, but a little) to keep the readers away from boredom.

Nid
04-03-2006, 14:05
//

Maybe my old skills in herb-lore with still serve, I'm sure that I will suffer no side effects of potion brewing this time.

//

SPIDERS!!!

//

:D :D :D It's the little things that count :D

Nathaniel
07-03-2006, 05:37
I really like how you've constructed the character, he's very cool.

I hope you write some more.

Rathgar
02-04-2006, 11:41
OK, there is more coming!

My personal life is pretty hectic at the mo, but hopeful in the next few weeks I’ll sit down at write a big hefty chunk. Till then, a tiny taste of the Necromancer’s train of though…

//

Sleep? Weakness. Precious time snatched away by Morr. God of dreams, God of death. Silent thief of life. Does he snatch away a fragment every night, every moment that consciousness ebbs and the soft caress of unthinking unchained illusion that throws me upon the softest and most seductive of winds?

Does my soul seep silently to the void every time my eyelids shut?

I have no more need of sleeping, I shall bind myself to this world with ropes wove from an irresistible will. My will.

I am eternity, I shall endure.

//

Rathgar
14-04-2006, 07:33
//

Without sleep, time moves strangely. I cannot tell if the Boatman who holds my hourglass has snatched a few grains or a vast torrent of my life-sand.

Still, to be free of his grinning visage is compensation enough. I feel other benefits of what I have started to think of my metamorphosis. No, my awakening. Change is an enemy, a faceless shifting foe than brings ending.

I have read of these Liches who change from life to death-life, studied the words of one; this Weni of Mahrak. He speaks of the transformation as if breaking from the shell of a chrysalis, cutting the restraints of an ill equipped and fragile body. He talks of icy waters cooling the mind. His words rise and fall like a dull and endless drone, stillness-serenity-clarity-logic-purpose. And hate, oh how he reeks of hate for life.

Is that what I am to become? Did he not start as I? I wish only for eternity. I wish not for change, what is left of Weni’s soulfire? Little or nothing. He is automata. A corpse that speaks and writes, will his body rots away beneath him and he does not care. For he is changed. I do not wish for that. I want for eternity as I am a rock against the ages.

Again comes the knocking! Leave me in peace vulture! Foul despoiler of the mind, what are you? A beast sent by gods that have felt my contempt to torment and disrupt my research?

//


Again I felt it. The black claw inside me tightened its grip on my heart. A wave of pain took me, greater than any I had before experienced. It passed, but never have I been so afraid, had to fight for every breath so. I have so much more to accomplish, so much more!

The physician who told me of this claw that had grown inside me and wrapped is black and rotting talons over my heart, said it could not be removed or remedied. I have found a remedy, I have achieved the impossible! A simple potion, a few paragraphs in this holy codex. The claw will wither and turn to dust, no blight of the body will ever assail me again!

Tonight I will visit the graveyard. I have much to gather.

Silent Surrender
14-04-2006, 09:15
Bravo! I never get enought of this, its so beautiful still dark. You dont really know if what hes doing will make him eternal or just end his existence in a heartbeat, and that makes me wanna read more!

biggreengribbly
14-04-2006, 10:12
Sweet, good to see you're still continuing with this :)

Rathgar
14-04-2006, 11:38
Thanks! I’m glad you guys are enjoying it.

I got a bit carried away and wrote some more:

//

The Eyes! Oh gods the eyes.

I have to write, my body convulses and my hand trembles but I must write, I must describe the terror I beheld.

Mist had chocked the graveyard by the time I reached it late this eve, (I suppose it must be the morning by now). A few Marks and the attendant initiate’s apathy and ignorance of ever having seen me enter was bought. The components were fairly numerous and specific; the middle finger bone of a wife, the hair of a child under six, grass for a grave over a certain ages.

The enormity of the Graveyard astounded me; it extends far into the wood at its far end. Vines and tree roots clamber over tombstones and mausoleums as if the dead had been here longer than the trees. Perhaps they had. The mist made it impossible to see more than a few feet, and the claustrophobic clambering of moss choked branches above me seem to amplify and cruelly distort the slightest sound. The ever present daemons-from-behind-the-veil that flicker in the corners of my eyes grew silent and still, to leave me to be tormented by the voices that seemed to weep and cry out on the wind no doubt. Everywhere was damp and stank of decay and purple snakes of the witch-wind coiled past my feet, I found myself envying Weni who would never fear, would never feel anything but hate.

All that I needed was gathered and I was anxious to leave this stronghold of Morr. When I saw it; the monstrosity. Shadows danced across it and yet even masked in darkness its form was hideous. As a man, but hunched as if broken through a life time of labour. Its skin was plastered with filth and black calluses of long-dried blood. It turned to look at me, and past those dreaded-locks that hung like dead figures over its twisted face and maw I saw eyes filed with such insanity and intestacy that I withdrew a step. For a moment that lasted an eternity it pieced me with that awful glare. And then it was gone, melting into the shadows cast by the tangled and septic trees. I ran like he wolves of Ulric were behind me. Then the claw took me again, but I continued. Fire filled my lungs but I continued. I spat blood onto the cobbles. What if I have to return? Will the creature be waiting?

My hands are trembling, but I have to complete the potion. The claw has slackened its grip but not released my abused heart. I have not much time. Already I hear the steps of the Boatman! The daemons cackle again, how they torment me. They Change! They are moving and dancing, dancing round each other, melting into each other. A shape emerges! The Boatman is come! He holds out his skeletal hand and upon his bleached palm lays two brass pennies. Brass pennies on the eyes of the dead to pay Morr’s Boatman. He already has his payment!

Out! Scatter and flee daemons! Hide yourselves behind the vale!

I must work now, or my dream of eternity of endurance will end as surly as my heart beat will if the claw crushes it. I pray that the King of Light from my vision is watching me now and smiles upon me still, for I have need of his mercy.

//

Rathgar
15-04-2006, 12:45
//

Wither and die Claw! Wither and die, you are ended as I shall never be.

//

How long I have been held transfixed and immobile I know not. The snakes of colour my true sight revealed to me burn brighter now, they are incandescent. but they have slowed, the world crawls… time crawls. And the claw. I feel not its talons, have I achieved it? Have I banished my tormentor? Have I saved my life?

There is a poem scratched into my desk. No, burned into my desk in a strange jagged yet flowing script, that like the scrolls from the Land far south I can somehow comprehend. Did I do this in my catatonia? Or is it some riddle left by that legion of cackling daemons I count amongst my foes?

I shall copy it to my journal lest it fade and I am robed of a chance to decipher the alien names.


There was a Shaman.

A King.

A God

In a land that Was

In Mourkain

There was a Man

A Lord

A God

In a land that Was

Kadon

A prince’s corpse

A crown of power

An evil claw

In a Land that Was

In Mourkain

There was a beast

A lord of masks

A bloodied saviour

In a land that Was

In Morkain

There was a Cursed

A Lord

A God

In a land that Was

Ushoran

There was a dream

An empire lost

The embers of hope

In a land that Was

In Morkain

//

Rathgar
15-04-2006, 13:14
//

It appears that for now, I am cured. Ha! I wonder at the look of the physician who prophesied my impending death, if he saw me now full of vigor and life!

I looked upon my own face today, for the first time in what feels like an age. There were side effects to the potion it seems. My hair is falling in chunks from my head, my skin is pale and eyes have sunken into deep pits of black fatigue. But the later two are due perhaps to my long hours of study and the thick currents I have blotted out the sun with (sunlight distorts my true-vision). Still I cannot help but notice the irony. I resemble the boatman with this skull like visage.

And yet, I feel not unwell. I feel not tired. What unholy drive has possessed me? I feel as if I am compelled onward. I must step and step and step forward, this unearthly momentum permits me no rest. On I go, to that unwanted and unknowable goal.

I must go on. To pause is to give the Raven a chance to catch and fell me. To drag me where the claw tried.

How my enemies multiply! The Raven and his boatman, the cackling daemons, the knocking beast and now that creature of the necropolis; the stopping abomination with predator eyes.

//

Rathgar
15-04-2006, 23:59
//

A Ghoul then. Tasidus: Beasts of the Worlde says of them this:

Like man and yet as unman as the green-hided savages, know ye the Ghoul. He stands less than a man, yet his true height is greater for he stoops and cowers. Decayed flesh is this bread, black festering blood his wine and filth and pestilence his garb. His claws are poison. Sun, fire and man are his foes. Know ye the Ghoul.

I shall take fire.

//

The beast did not show his face this time. Mayhap he lies sleeping, his belly bloated from a feast of unfortunate cadavers. Sleep well Ghoul! Sleep as peacefully as the dead you devour. Choke and join them.

Some gems of knowledge can be gained from Weni’s dry monologs. The vapors of this sickly brew bring on vision. Of course my liche friend states they are nothing compared to the visions gained from the gift of life in death. I hope your rotten head fell of you arrogant hunk of bone and petrified sinew!

I pray that I remain lucid, so that any revelations I receive can be recorded.

//

There is a curved obsidian blade. It stretches to infinity. A man walks upon it. A priest in grey sand-stained robes. On he walks. Towards where the blade fades to a point under the cosmic crushing a distance. The blade sparkles now. Frost covers it. And still he walks. I can see the tiny stars of moisture in the air as he breaths. The unrelenting pilgrim. He walks away from me, toward infinity. The ice cuts his feat and he stumbles. A fell blade bites him and he stumbles. A hammer strikes him and he stumbles. But still he walks.

//

Nid
16-04-2006, 00:06
I love it.

Rathgar
17-04-2006, 08:16
//

I killed a man today. The knocking beast shall knock no more.

It was my landlord, such petty things as rent seem immaterial to me, and I should not have been disturbed! My studies are in a plane above the rest of those ignorant surfs, how could they hope to see the things I can now see? To understand the things I understand. And now they have made me a murderer,

He startled me! I was still in my trance though it was shattered when Herr Votz broke down my door. In the half-light and cacophony of noise it seemed to me as if the boatman was come at last. I panicked, I attacked him. And now his battered husk lies behind me with a broken spine. Already the purple Aethyic vapor clings to it like a shroud, a festering mist.

I have bolted me door. Alone we are; the corpse, the daemons and I. In this claustrophobic hollow I call home. How alien it feels. The wall crawls with eyes and sweat. Hell fire burns outside my room, and my skin cracks and burns inside this demonic furnace. Oh gods in heaven what have I do. I am not capable of murder. I am not a killer am not a killer am not a killer a killer.

Such a mighty sorcerer am I! I see the world truly, I bend the world truly. I cure with the simplest of brews. I must face what I have become and that is a witch, a welder of magic, fit only for the pyres of Sigmar’s faithful. How my God must hate me.

And yet, with all my grand sorcery I kill with my hands.

But death is not my master. Morr is not welcome in my house! I can cast him out… if I can prolong life for myself I must be a giver of life. I will create life! I will return life. I shall pull this man’s soul from the devouring and greedy clutches of that pale and mirthless King of the Underworld, before it is drowned in that raging torrent of my fist revelation.

Yes, I will save him. The giver of life am I! I will do that which I have yearned for and yet dreaded. I have wanted and yet pushed away. A ritual of no small power or danger.

I shall raise the dead.

//

Hideous Loon
17-04-2006, 09:09
Wow. Nice, evocative, arrogant, yet with a tincture of madness.

I saw it coming the moment I read "I killed a man today."

Rathgar
17-04-2006, 09:58
Thanks! :D

I’ve actually had that entry written for ages, I just didn’t want to bung it in too early.

Aekold
18-04-2006, 03:27
hehe keep up the good work i really love it! =)

Ahh the paranoid madness......they are coming for me?! are they? !!

NEVER!

Revlid
18-04-2006, 10:35
Brilliant.
The last entry has some similarities to the book Necromancer by Johnathan Green, have you read it?

Aekold
20-04-2006, 01:32
More! Give Us More.

Messiah
20-04-2006, 15:44
So.. did he have cancer, and he cured it by eating warpstone or somesuch?

Great job, it really calls to you. I like it!

Rathgar
22-04-2006, 07:53
The last entry has some similarities to the book Necromancer by Johnathan Green, have you read it?

No I haven’t. But I just looked at the blurb on the BI web site and it seems like my story’s going down a similar root. It’s the whole “starts good gets corrupted” idea.


More! Give Us More.

It’s coming! :D


So.. did he have cancer, and he cured it by eating warpstone or somesuch?

Yer, pretty much. :p

The claw could have been any number of illnesses, and I didn’t have one in mind. Just wanted to give you and idea as to why he’s so driven.

Rathgar
22-04-2006, 09:51
//

He stands now, Herr Votz. In the center of the chalk ring, he stands. Over the bones of a solider and the broken chair and the earth from a grave, he stands. Over the blood that never seems to stop dripping from his ear, that dark and expanding pool, he stands. But he does not live. His eyes are open, but he does not live. Whatever resides behind those half-open milky orbs is not the quick witted cunning of a Burgher. Is there anything behind those eyes? There must be. For if I talk he listens, I am sure of it. But he does not speak, he does not breath! He stares and bleeds. Gods! I will drown in blood if it doesn’t stop. “A fitting end”, the fools will cry “drowned in his victims on vital fluids” and they will nod and smile and not understand. He made me! I had to, had to defend myself… the boatman…accident… I had no choice.

//

Oh gods. I shouted to move and he moved… what in the hells is this thing? Some daemon infesting the body? Wearing the cadaver as a man might a coat. What chilling alien intellect crouches within this bleeding piece of meat?

//

HE STANDS BUT HE DOES NOT LIVE!

//

I cut that corpse thing. Cut it into pieces. It just stood there, as I slashed at it. A rage took me, a fear. That his unholy creature-that-was-a-man would stand and obey and then throttle me in vengeance should I succumb to my fatigue, I have never been so weary felt so spent. I must prepare another elixir soon else I shall slip into unconsciousness and all the terror that brings. My study reeks of death. My careful prepared ritual pieces scattered and smothered in bloody gore. The man I’ve killed twice lies locked now in my oaken case. I can here it moving, here the pieces of it moving. Yet, I open the case and it lies still.

I sit here now, and weep. So long it was been since my face felt water that my hot tears burn me. I must face what I am; a heretic and a witch. I have killed, defiled the dead and practiced dread sorcery. Perhaps I am fit only it to burn.

//

Rathgar
22-04-2006, 13:14
//

A man stands over me now. A noble lord in grey, eyes black and deep as the oceans and time. He smiles, as if thinking of places or people long past and then turns to me.

“I’ve spoken with many such as you” He says and his eyes cloud and he looks away “And not all were lost when we parted”.

I know the answer to this but I ask anyway.
“The first, a young prince and a holy man called me Usiris. There have been other names; Ratu-mai-bula, Morai-heg, Mictlantecuhtli, Gazul, Limu, Aken,Yan Luo and Omega the ending of all things. Morr will suffice.”

The raven truly is before me then.

“You stand on the brink, as your predecessors did. You may not think there is a choice, but there is. But it is final. I will only offer this too you once, after that you are no longer welcome in my house, though my house is where you will arrive in time. No one evades ending forever, and for those that try there is a reckoning.”

He passed, and ages passed in an instant.

“Embrace ending! Do not fear it. Believe what you will about hereafter, but know this; I offer serenity and eternity. That, in any form is better than an unending existence of hate, fear and madness or a long dark of oblivion at the mercy of The Four.”

A portal appeared, as if forming itself from the unordered ripples of a claming pool of water. A great stone gateway. One pillar of marble, the other obsidian… And through, a great river, filled more with shadows than water. And that same fell specter that stole from me the night and I think mayhap, some of my sanity.

The Boatman.

“Therein lays redemption” spoke Morr, smiling his grim yet kindly smile.

“No.”

Barely more than a breath. The sigh of trees in a hot summer wind. But he hears me.

The smile does not fade but the man, the portal and the boatman do.

“So be it. Once more we shall meet, for our reckoning!”

I fall upon my chest exhausted, and sleep for the last time.

//

There is a curved obsidian blade. It stretches to infinity. A man walks upon it. A priest in grey sand-stained robes. On he walks. Towards where the blade fades to a point under the cosmic crushing a distance.

And behind him walk others. Scholars, sorcerers and kings. On they walk towards eternity. I am. I am amongst them.

I shall endure.

//

Rathgar
22-04-2006, 13:19
Well, that’s the end of Chapter one I guess. Any continuations of the story will truly be a Necromancers Diary. I’ll leave it a bit for people to comment.

And if you want more, I’ll see what I can do ;)

Hideous Loon
22-04-2006, 13:49
Please, please, continue. If there's a chapter one, doesn't that mean there has to be a chapter two, three and so on? And it's just soo good, the slow downfall of a single man into heresy. Go on, by all means.

Revlid
22-04-2006, 14:20
Genius! Write more! If this was a book I'd buy it.

Revlid
27-04-2006, 20:26
*Twitches from Necromancer Diary deprivation*
I do not believe I gave you permission to stop writing...:mad: :cries: :evilgrin: :skull:

Rathgar
28-04-2006, 11:18
I’m writing chapter 2, have no fear!

You want it in bits like before, or do you want to wait a week or two and have a great chunk?

Hideous Loon
28-04-2006, 14:57
I'd like to have bits, just like before. Then you keep the excitement up with the audience, so that they keep longing for more. It's all like a drug really.

Rathgar
29-04-2006, 13:25
You guys win! Updates every week at the very least from now on. Happy? :p

Part II

//

I do not know the name of the ghoul (if indeed it has a name) but I have stared to think of it as Henri. Cleary he is as filthy and unwashed as a Bretonian! Oft I see him, I visit the graveyard more and more as the components to my potions become more specific. I fear I may be becoming addicted to the visions Weni’s odorous brew brings. No matter, my only addiction is to life!

It has been many weeks since I last I scribe my thoughts, so lost in revelation and sensory exploration. To be cut my intellect free of the mundane imprisonment of the inadequate senses. To blot out sight, sound, touch, odor and taste and to open oneself to the cacophony of others. Exquisite. Even now I loath to be apart from the emancipating vapor; I tremble and sweat pours from me when I cease as I have done now.

I burned Votz’s corpse, and cast salt and grave-earth other the first to banish whatever daemon I had called forth into his vessel. Faces leered at me from that fire, cruel mocking faces with tongues of flame and eyes of ember. I gleaned no warmth from that fire; the night clasped me tightly to her icy chest and my heart was froze and the dying beast in the fire mocked me with its leer. I would have been glad of some company then, but even Louis had sensed the evil in this pyre and did not show himself. For the first time since I’m a decade I am lonely.

Weak thoughts! I am done with weakness; I confronted the Death God himself did I not? I am become legend, deifier of the divine. Soon my name will mean awe.

Back I must go! To my visions; this time I shall do my upmost to transcribe what I see with eyes I do not have. Come gaseous savior! Lift my from my cell and cast me upon the winds of clarity!

//

Rathgar
30-04-2006, 07:44
//

The sun rises through mist of changing vapour and my platform crumbles beneath my feat.

//

A tempest of sound and light!

//

High stands the mountain. How strong and grim is he, the sea and the storm lash at him. Yet he laughs his deep, earth-born laugh. His heart festers under black and storm-ravaged stone. And he crumbles from within and he laughs for though his core rots he shall never fall. And as I walk, he cast a hail of stone upon me and I cringe beneath this onslaught and the thunder of his mirth. This grinning colossus.

//

AGAIN COME THE SPIDERS!!! Be gone! For I am The Sorcerer, watch as I suck the life from your husks creeping ones, my web is subtler than yours and oh so deadly.

//

See the crown, so plain it seems; thing of hate and tortured dreams. Hammered iron and jewel of night; thing of age and endless spite. Kings have sought you, daemons court you, but faithful beast are thee. For when your master calls your name, you answer nought be he.

//

Some destinations are destiny.

Truth and Stasis
Truth and Stasis
Truth and Stasis
Truth and Stasis
Truth and Stasis
Truth and Stasis
Truth and Stasis

//


Beneath a sea as deep as time, Cathulagora screams. Such sorrow men can never know, for it would crush our hearts in an instant. And that last heartbeat would be an agony beyond any the ruinous forces can inflict. This is Cathulagora’s eternity.

//

Know this Mortal. I speak through your hand, but I despise you. Pacts older than time bind me to this, yet I hate you with all my essence. So be it then! My task is clear. The messenger of fate am I.

You shall live amongst the dead.
You shall face night’s terror
You shall face fire
You shall face faith
You shall live amongst the beasts
You shall face doubt
You shall face servitude
You shall face hate
You shall live amongst the dead
You shall face your brother
You shall face betrayal
You shall face might
You shall live amongst the hated
You shall face fear
You shall face the elements
You shall face your master
You shall face fate
You shall live, or you shall die. I care not. Our pact is done.

//

Revlid
30-04-2006, 20:41
Ooh, daemonic possession. Tasty!

Like it a lot by the way.

EarthScorpion
01-05-2006, 15:10
Wonderful...truely wonderful. Brilliant in an incredibly Gothic way; worthy of comparison with Dr Jeckel and Mr Hyde.

By the way, was that Morr at the end?

Rathgar
03-05-2006, 04:35
By the way, was that Morr at the end?

Of part one? Cloud have been, may have been our friends diseased brain tripping. It's up to you which.

Rathgar
03-05-2006, 04:36
//

The visions come no longer. Three days and the vapours do nothing but cause me to vomit. Nothing has changed! I brew the potion in the same way, with the same components, it is the same texture and colour and form.

Am I to accept the words of the last entry? Was I truly in the thrall of some daemon with which I trafficked through the medium of Weni’s unclean vapour? Or did the odorous drug awake in me some entity that guided my hand whilst I lay in stupor? Does than same malignant beast lurk in me now?

I must collect my thought lest I tear my mind asunder chasing shadows. Too long I have been complacent, I have chose escape and excess in place of reality. Votz will be missed, and people will start asking questions and then they will find me. And my long hours of work, and all the revelations I have gained will be nothing; they will burned my library and lynch me. This cannot pass, I must hide from them; these weak-minded sheep that understand not what I have accomplished, and what I can yet achieve. Within my grasp lies power unimagined. And I shall have it.

This bites at me but it must be done, I must seek solace and asylum in the crypts. How chilling it is that I start down the road of that cryptic prophesy: You shall live amongst the dead

//

Rathgar
14-05-2006, 11:11
//

I burned down my apartments. The body I left will be taken as mine. Ha! The irony, I am now a dead man. And where more fitting for a dead man to live than amongst his kind?

The graveyard has lost none of its charm since my first visit, the mist still clings thickly to the ground. And swirls as I pass. The trees braches group downward like hideous claws, and I cannot help to think of the talon that not so long passed held it’s evil grip apron my heart.

My home now is a crypt deep within the wood that has swallowed much of this garden of Morr. Such a spacious house for a corpse! Long have been my labours upon my new abode. And I regret neglecting my journal.

There is a sizable underground central chamber; which you must descend a flight of steeps to reach from the entrance. I have cleared it of its former occupant, keeping only what I needed for the continuation on my experiments: a thigh bone, some strands of petrified hair and a rust eaten sword. The sarcophagus now serves as my desk, and it is remarkable suited to this task! I have hung many firs and fabric sheets over the stone walls, they keeps nights chill at bay and make me feel more of a man and less of a beast. A fire burns slowly against the far corner, here I have dug through the moss-mound roof so that the smoke may escape. I have no fear of discovery; the smoke will simply mingle with the ever present mist. I doubt the attendant ever comes to this part of the graveyard anyway. There is a small antechamber near where I have set the fire, but it is empty and of no consequence. I am using it as a store room.

The door I have given the most work to. I have no wish for Henri or other unholy creatures that luck in this place to murder me in my sleep. I have installed a thick iron bolt and scrawled protective runes upon its surface. Here I am safe, here is my refuge. I have all the components I need to weave my hexes and glamours. I have peace, for here I am truly alone. I can even return to the town on occasion, if I wrap a thick cloak hood about myself.

This is my fortress of eternity, nothing can touch me here.

//

Hideous Loon
14-05-2006, 11:21
Damn good, Rathgar, as usual. I also find it fitting that a budding Necromancer, fearing his newfound powers, should live among the dead as one of their own.

Rathgar
19-05-2006, 13:11
//

It came form the store room, I now realise this chamber is merely a gateway to a network of subterranean catacombs. Twisting corridors lined with decrepit statues, mouldering bone and corroded iron.

I was awaked by a noise such as a cart unloading soil, and then a rushing of air. The atmosphere tasted stale and moist. Then came the chanting; rhythmic, as if the same phrase were repeated over and over. Yet the voice was unwholesome. The only way I can describe it is that it was as if the speaker was exhaling every word.

I was on my feat in moments, grading my dagger and illuminating the room with a word. Scratching, chanting the walls swam. As if sensing my disorientation, the daemons pounced. Oft of late I can keep them behind the vale… shut out their jabbering, promises and lies through meditation. I learnt to do this while lost in my visions… I am surprised I have not recorded this before. Not matter, the last weeks have been lost in a empty haze of broken concepts. I have lived a half-life; half-dreams, half-thoughts…

Regardless, now the daemons pounced at the very moment I spoke the light incantation. It was as if my body expanded two fold yet my skin remained the same. I felt muscle and sinew strain to escape. My head pounded and my vision swam. The chanting began to drown out all other noise and make me feal nauseous. Then my eyes began to burn, as if some unholy ember had taken residence within them… yet I could no shut my eyes! Tears streamed down my checks as the creature entered.

Great clouds of dust bellowed at its feet as it regarded me with eyeless sockets. Straight white hair hung as limp as dead limbs from under its iron crown. It chanted still, but it hissed the words now, words I could not understand. Its armour was stained by the earth and by time, tarnished steal and wasted leather. Like the face, leather pulled tight over a skull. That unchanging mirthless grin of bleached teeth, lips long since rotted.

I fell to my knees, my body still trying to rip its way through my skin. The daemons were tearing me apart from the inside. The thing advanced and hacked at me with its ancient blade. Feebly I raised my hand to shield myself from the blows. The blade cut deep, and brought burning chill, it was as if my very life-force was being wrenched from me.

But the pain brought focus and I scattered the daemons from me with the force of my will, my strongest and keenest weapon. I unleased a wave of force upon the skeletal king. Thrusting him back into the tomb wall. I herd its spine break. But again it advanced; balde held high to cut me in two. Its rhythmic mantra never ceasing.

Then, calmness descended over me. A sharp contrast from the chaos of the daemons tearing at my being. Icy calm poured into me and through me. I have no felt such clarity since my vision of the crystal king and his pure white mountain. And in this higher state of consciousness arose some of Weni’s words, hard as stone. Words with form, physical things you can touch.

And as I spoke the words of binding the Wight stood still. Held enthralled to my irresistible will. As life poured from my arm in hot red droplets.

//

Hideous Loon
19-05-2006, 17:24
Now we're seeing some progress, he's living in a tomb and actually controlling an undead creature. Good work, Batman!

Rathgar
03-06-2006, 13:21
//

I can heal wounds, my physical body can be lacerated and abused and I can sow bones as a sculpture craves. Smooth flesh with an artists hands. I can renew and make whole. And so, my earthy injuries at the hands of the chanting skeletal king are undone. But can I undo the scars of the mind? With every discovery are the knives of concept and terror. Is the very fabric of my intellect untangling beneath this onslaught? Am I then; a rock amides a tempestuous ocean. Eroding to nothing under storm and wave.

Small sacrifice for truth.

The creature seems passive. Yet I trust not my Lich friend’s charms. I have barded the unmoving thing within an alcove in the newly uncovered catacombs. A marvellous prison, fashioned from ancient spears and shields. Melded to the very rock and warded with my sorcerous might.

It is not at all similar, this Wight to the corpse-thing I made of poor Votz. I can feel its mind, sense it very well. And he speaks. I understand little of it, but I am learning. Since my awakening my mind is unchained. Possibilities and unfilled potential. There is no task I cannot do; it is now only a matter of how long it will take.

This I have gleaned from interrogation. His name is Rashuman, he address me as “interloper”. He is a king or chieftain, of what he calls “the realm above”, I am sure the Baron would disagree with this claim of ownership! He seems to have no designs of reclaiming his ancestral lands, only to guard this last stronghold of ages passed empire and to rest. I sense hate in him, yet respect also. How it must assail his pride that I have bound him so!

The possibilities astound me, a mind from the very depths of antiquity. Such knowledge I could gain… he knew not the name Sigmar. Could he hail for before the forging of the empire? I must question him further. In time… should my influence over this long dead king grow, I could find uses for this Rashuman.

But now, I must leave my journal. I long to explore the tunnels now uncovered. The sweat thrill of new mystery! I shall tread lightly, for Rashuman may not be the soul denizen of this gloomy underworld.

//

Aekold
05-06-2006, 22:41
MORE! =) WONDERFUL! Write a book and i shall be the first to buy it! it is sooooooo wonderful good. Keep up the good work!

Lab Monkey
09-06-2006, 16:41
my god I love it.. please promise you'll keep up the good work!

Rathgar
10-06-2006, 04:25
my god I love it.. please promise you'll keep up the good work!

Defiantly. I have a plan in my head about were this is going, but updates may be few and far between for the next month, as I have university exams and I’m flying back to England soon.

So just hang in there, more is on the way ;)

Additionally, does anyone fancy having a crack at doing a few illustrations? This story is getting way longer than I planned at the start (it was just going to be that first entry) and a few pics may break it up a bit.

Rathgar
12-06-2006, 13:43
//

Down run the twisting tunnels of the dead. The echo of my footsteps precedes me into this macabre warren, and returns to me warped and unrecognizable; organic and stale. Above me is sodden earth, I can feel the clammy moisture as my hair brushes over it. This whole place has expired; no wholesome life inhabits these fetid corridors. I feel as though I crawl threw the veins of some decomposing behemoth.

Effigies line the walls. Nobility of lost age. Time has not been kind; shadows darken their eyes and mold deforms them. Crippled and mutilated images. My feet brush though stagnant pools of icy water. I hate this place, and I cannot help but think it feels the same of me.

My mind’s eye sees Rashuman, resplendent in this crumbling armor, pacing through his subterranean realm. The lifeless stone statues his companions, the stacks of water stained bone his wards.

Whispers. Whispers seep through the walls like the water. Do the dead talk? Do they cry out at my violation of their abode? Or is it but another trick of the whispering demonic court that has chosen me as their personal victim.

The most unexpected of things I found in this place of ending then, and I recoil in revulsion at the though of it.

The tunnels ran ever downward, though there were many side corridors and antechambers; the main corridor of this ruinous crypt slithered its spiraling passage to the bowels of the world. But yet… the air seemed fresher as I descended. The thick and overpowering odors of decay and stagnation lifted, in part, and were replaced by that of cinnamon and a subtle tang of iron. This unnerved me, and I griped tight my dagger and pressed onward, through this maw of the underworld.

And then, at once without precursor or announcement I stepped into a vast chamber. No statutes or delicately craved stone slabs lined these walls, only the dark hummus of the graveyards polluted soil. Yet this unlikely cavern was not devoid of content or note. High above me; a pale shaft of sunlight, feeble though it was, illuminated the room. Yet, this meager light only served to feed the shadows and darken the many pits of black emptiness around the chambers edges.

Under the shaft, which undoubtedly lead to the surface; remains. But not the neatly stacked and preserved remains of venerated forefathers; an unruly stack of discarded bones and flesh. A midden of some carnivorous tribe or creature?

The pile was vast, reaching two thirds my height. As I inspected it, I struck me that these remains were not uniform… Some were fragments, skull splinters and oddly scattered bone, others were complete I saw a tinny squirrel, several avian skeletons with their thin and brittle form and many others I had not the knowledge to place. At the base of the pile the bone were stripped clean, eerily so, as if dipped in some noxious potion and bleached. As one ascended the pile, the remains changed. I could make out black clumps of rotten flesh or matted fur. And through out; a strange white string, like some branching, choking spider's web; much thicker at the grim mounts base. It entangled all within this strange heap, interwoven with the bone and matter. Yet this was not the most disturbing find.

There were human remains in this pile. Small, like those of a children. And at its apex… a body. Half decomposed with eyes open staring towards the gaping mouth of the hole which I can only assume the poor boy tumbled down. And the white and sickly tendrils had eroded the lower portion of the corpse, making it rotten, foul and far more liquefied. I could make out the festering fungal growths burrowing in. I vomited.

And though my heart was heavy at this terrible sight, this effigy to death; I paced around. I can scarce believe what I saw. The spiders webs matted the floor on the far side, like a path of white mould. I followed, careful not to set foot upon it. And I found a coffin.

Wooden and overgrown. At its base near the chamber floor, the wood had blacken and crumbled and the white tendrils streamed from it. Gods! They covered the adjacent wall; they must have extended some way into the soil.

Though I was afraid, more afraid perhaps than when that man-that-was-undead stood before me in my now destroyed study; I lifted the lid. And there, before me lay a man.

He looked old, but hale; scruufy grey hair, adorned in a faded brown robe and his cheeks flushed a healthy red. I would rather have beheld the most revoltingly decayed corpse that that man, in that place. For, from the palms of his hands erupted the white creepers.

I screamed in spite of myself. And wide opened his eyes. Pale blue eyes, they almost looked kindly. I screamed as I plunged my knife in to that man's, no, that thing's heart. I screamed as I flooded his lair with fire, screamed as I ran up through the twisting tunnels of the dead. Rashuman whispered something as I passed, but I paid him no heed.

All the stars in heaven... what manner of creature was that? A man I fear, my heart tells me a man. A driven man such as I? A man so driven he became a leech. How long has he lain their? Like some vampiric tree with those awful fell roots encroaching on the earth and draining from it all the goodly sustenance it might contain. And… I cannot bear this though, feeding on prey from it cunningly constructed trap. Why so many children? We are so far from the settlement.

I had though that I was done with fear. But this world has darkness yet to bring to the fore. There are still greater horrors that lay unknown to me. Yet, one I think I am aware of.

The children… someone has been feeding this thing.

//

Flame of Udun
14-06-2006, 17:51
Hey Rathgar, Kick ass work here mate! I love the atmosphere you get from your writing, its just so tangible. I'd love to do some illustrations for the piece , it may be a little while before I get round to it as I have some other stuff on the go at the moment that I want to finish but I'd certainly like to contribute :)

Rathgar
17-06-2006, 07:58
I'd love to do some illustrations for the piece , it may be a little while before I get round to it as I have some other stuff on the go at the moment that I want to finish but I'd certainly like to contribute :)

That would be awesome!

Do what the hell you want with it and post your own thread. I just really want to see a visualisation of the psycho, I’ve became quite attached to him.

Revlid
17-06-2006, 15:10
I love it! Creepy leech vampire...

Rathgar
19-06-2006, 07:48
//

As the torrent of blood that rushes though my veins ebbs and the image of the hellish monk fades. The words Rashuman spoke to me as I raced passed him come to the fore of my mind.

“My thanks; interloper”

//

The town unsettles me now. Or maybe it is the work I must do here that unsettles me. Such circumstance calls for a dark night in the grip of and evil tempered storm. Rain and wind should be lashing at me and chilling me to my core. But despite the year’s aging, the sky is clear and a pleasantly warm breeze caresses my cheek. The weather has no sense of atmosphere. Mannsleb is full tonight and she dominates the sky, burning away the fainter stars so that only the most radiant pinpoints of light remain in this cloudless sky. The daemon moon should be full! Then mayhap I could write off my uneasiness, but he slumbers beneath the earth this eve.

Rashuman is more cooperative now that the leech-creature is extinguished, though I still cannot comprehend his tongue fully. It seems he was in thrall of this beast, which arrived long after the barrow king’s entombment. He wove his enchantments about the place then, and Rashuman was bound to be an unsleeping guardian of this daemon that walked as a man. Other spells, more fell were cast as well; as a fisherman casts a net. And so all manner of creature became draw to the pit, and the great charnel mound was formed; providing sustenance for the beast via its abhorrent fungal tendrils.

The rest I can guess. There are always those that will submit themselves to great evil for the promise of tangible reward. That will sell their souls to the Dark Gods for a moment of ecstasy. Fools all. The soul is not a trading chip, and what is given cannot be regained. Better to guard and to tie ones essence to this realm as is my goal. I deduce there is a man; whose heart knows only wants. He has found this pit and conversed with the creature therein; and together they have wrought and unholy pact. He will feed the fell enchanter; cast abducted children into his very maw (I have no doubt it was considered a delicacy) and all in return for a payment I cannot fathom.

I am above these townspeople, but I am no emotionless fiend. I have a kinship and caring for them despite my superiority. Yet so many dark forces assail them, such as this callous murder of the innocent that even now stalks the alleyways and riversides. The baron and his bailiffs are corrupt and incompetent, and so it falls to me with my new gained power, to shield this fragile flock from nights deepest horror.

I have returned to the settlement as retribution incarnate.

//

Revlid
10-07-2006, 14:37
Of course, you realise I will now have to start a Necrach conversion based around that vampire? Despite being halfway through two other armies? It's your fault, you know.
The Necromancer still feels compassion, eh? I suspect he'll be cured of that little affliction soon enough.

Rathgar
12-07-2006, 11:45
//

The Widow’s Tower they call it. In the time of the Three Emperors, fear of invasion by the Ottilian Emperor’s soldiers caused the then baron to empty his coffers fortifying our small and insignificant town. Widow's Tower and a few sections of crumbling masonry are all that now remains of our once mighty curtain wall. Is this not the perfect metaphor? Once we were strong, and nothing from without could assail us. But this great nation rotted from within, and just as the thieving peasants stole stone from the walls to build their houses; our resolve and our might was leached from us though incompetence, decadence and corruption. And so the enemy within has left us at the mercy of the enemy without.

They say a widow live here once, and every morning she arose to watch the sun rise over the fields and forests. In her heart, she hoped the new dawn would bring her husband; lost on some far away battlefield, home to her. The weakness at stupidity of my race never ceases to amaze me.

I stand were mayhap the widow stood. As the night ends. I cannot work with the sun learing face burning my skin. The brightness blurs my vision and clutters my thoughts. Better the crystal cool light of the stars to work by, than this brash and overbearing orb.

So dear journal, what have I gleaned from my nights investigations you ask? Well firstly that I am a respected individual! All I spoke to, be it the gate guards, courtesans or the merry revellers at Rhya’s Bosom where quick to offer me respectful words and any information I required. Ha! Weni’s 'Mask of The Nobel' is one incantation that has proved its worth.

In truth I believe the townsfolk would have gossiped with me even should they have witnessed my proper visage, or even something fouler. They are desperate for talk; people have begun to go missing. Mostly the young, every week for the past seven months. The last disappearance was a fortnight ago.

The sun stains the cornfields and the fleeting wisps of cloud in the sky a sickly pink. I will restrain myself from comparing it to blood, there will be that aplenty tonight whether I succeed or fail. It is harvest time. Reap is come. Perhaps there is one I can save from the dark harvest, when the sun falls beneath the earth. I must return to the graveyard and prepare for this reckoning.

//

UltimateNagash
20-07-2006, 12:14
Great. Mind you, I shouldn't be impressed, I'm the Ultimate Necromancer!!! But seriously, good stuff. Keep it up.:D

Rathgar
17-09-2006, 20:35
It’s been a while since I updated this, but I’ve defiantly not abandoned it. Now I have some more free time again, the Necromancers adventures can continue! Enjoy.

//

How is it that two emotions can bite so powerfully, in complete unison and yet oppose each other so violently? I fear that even one so gifted as I will never come to unravel the paradoxes that being human continually throws at us, such as the conflicting feelings that now hold me so enthral: sorry and triumph. Mine is a bitter victory this night.

The latest victim was a girl, perhaps seventeen summers old and a vision of untarnished beauty. If I had any doubts that my sorcerers experimentation was robbing me of my humanity, they have been dispelled by how much this young woman moved me.

He was dragging her by her hair when I first saw them; the killer and the girl. Dragging her to the foul maw of earth that had lead to the leach creature. He was well dressed and slightly built, perhaps a scholar such as myself. But this eyes, the windows on the soul; they had a hunted look to them. He beat the girl when she screamed, and smiled his sick and frozen smile as he dragged her across the earth. Her night grown rustled against the first fallen leaves of Autumn, and pressed against her; she was magnificent even when terrorised by this less-than-man.

And then, the confrontation.

I stepped from my hiding place as they approached the pit, flanked by my angels of redemption; Henri and Rashuman. Both dominated by my irresistible will and won over by my wise and charismatic council. Both subjects and allies. This was a moment long in the making.

And still, the killer smiled his damn smile. “Your master is dead!” I cried “Release her and submit to my judgement”. The girl looked at me then with such hope and thankfulness that my heart swelled within me.

He cut her throat. He took life without even a moments hesitation. He flung the girl towards the pit and, a knife in each hand he charged we trio of justice bringers. I caught the poor girl as she fell, even as Rashuman hissed his eons old battle cry and engaged the monster.

She expired in my arms, clinging to me. I felt her spirit slip away to the nothingness I know awaits. I failed her. Covered in gore from her ruined throat I knelt, and a rapid succession of emotions washed over me in waves of hideous strength. Sorrow, then guilt, then anger, then pure white hate; all in a heartbeat. It was as if they claw had returned and gripped is malicious grip of my heart.

I pored all my hate into her shell, filled her abused and broken body with it. The murderer looked so shocked fearful as that bleeding beautiful corpse of a maiden clawed at his arms and chest. His expression didn’t even change when Rashuman hacked his undeserving head from his shoulders. And I can imagine he looks the same now as Henri gnaws the flesh from his bones.

I am the instrument of all that is just and good. I have righted a great wrong here, and punished a foul and villainous creature. But I have failed.

As I have done before, oh how the gods of this world mock me with their endless cycling of the same hurt. Why must I loose them all? All those who I love and that I hope, in my much abused heart, that love me. Life is sick and perverse torment at the hand of uncaring gods. If there is a greater truth, behind that of natures laws, the thoughts of men and the fickle meddling of the divine, I am utterly convinced it is a dark and unwholesome one.

I weep once more, though it is weakness. Perhaps in this way I am weak. Not matter, my strength increase unhindered with every passing moment. And soon, I will conquer this cruel joke of death and my laughter will ring out across the void.

But now, I must endure the sorrow.

//

Revlid
29-09-2006, 08:14
I like it so far, although I have to wonder who the killer was. Was he a Thrall, a Strigany? Why did the Necromancer feel so much compassion for this girl? Is his "base of operations" now the Widow's Tower?
You also need to edit out a few typoes.
Otherwise, absolutely fantastic.

Rathgar
01-10-2006, 09:51
I like it so far, although I have to wonder who the killer was. Was he a Thrall, a Strigany?

Not telling.


Why did the Necromancer feel so much compassion for this girl?

Still not telling! Although I hinted that it might be something to do with his past.


Is his "base of operations" now the Widow's Tower?

No, he just visited there to reflect on things. I wanted to add a bit more depth to the town, we’ll be getting to see much more of it soon.



You also need to edit out a few typoes.

I have dyslexia, and even though I try to run all my posts through a spell checker stuff often slips through. I’ll keep proofreading!

librerian_samae
01-10-2006, 13:08
Wow great stuff so far.
really looking foward to the rest of it, keep up the outstanding work:)

zakk_wylde001
11-10-2006, 18:42
This is absolutely fantastic.
I can just imagine that the man he saw on his first visit to the graveyard was himself, and he was just looking at a mirror of himself in the future.
Very good work, I love it!

Rathgar
14-11-2006, 21:01
//

I have dwelled far too long in remorse. Why did this girl move me so deeply? I did not know her, yet why does it feel as if our souls touched?

Regardless, her essence was wrenched to pieces in the claws of the void, if I should take anything from this episode it should be a warning. I could be hurt like that, I could die that easily. Everything is a lesson, there is knowledge to be gleaned from all events. And from this one?

That raised ones simply need instruction; a spark, if you will. I summarise that the balance of humours must linger for some time after death, and the forceful placement of an emotion or thought into the once living shell invigorates the humours once more, and so animation returns (I stop short of calling it life, these things do not live). Mayhap this is why the resurrected Voltz simply stood an inanimate revenant. He had no instruction, no spark.

I have performed careful experimentation to verify this (the protocol I record on a separate parchment for posterity). I killed a rabbit that I found foolish foraging in the graveyard. An invader! Doest he not realise that this is my land? A pretty example I made of him. I let the kill cool, till all warmth and linger of life had departed. Then, flexing my ever growing talents I invigorated the rodents humours. ‘Hop!’ I tell it, and it hops! ‘Run!’ I tell it and it runs. A merry time we had, my dead little friend and I.

He hops now still, round and round my chamber.

//

librerian_samae
17-11-2006, 15:20
another good entry, glad to se your still working on this.

Really love the practicing on the rabbit.

Aekold
21-11-2006, 15:41
Rathgar...im very very impresses that you can write so good when you have dyslexia, and i really love your story. I cant really wait to read the next chapter in this wonderful and dark story! But mind you, i dont want to push you or anything, just take your time and keep up this awsome work. Ohh i have hermm (burrowed) the last little line in your story whit the dead little rabit =)

i hope you dont mind my friend! many cheers cincerly Aekold!