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Post by The Shaman on Jan 13, 2008 15:44:29 GMT -5
The necromancer sat cross-legged in the center of a circle of white stones. Several torches had been lit around the edge. His eyes were closed, his staff resting on the ground in front of him.
He parted his lips slightly. "Subita morte exstingui... Plagam extremam infligere... Extremum vitae spiritum edere..."
He kept repeating the words. This went on for several minutes.m
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Post by The Shaman on Jan 15, 2008 23:30:07 GMT -5
"Subita morte exstingui... Plagam extremam infligere... Extremum vitae spiritum edere..."
The circle of stones began to give off a dim white hue.
"Subita morte exstingui... Plagam extremam infligere... Extremum vitae spiritum edere..."
Soon it was obvious that he was a seasoned priest in the dark arts.
Something split suddenly from the ground. It crawled from the earth, half flesh and half bone. It's bottom jaw was broken off and was unable to speak to him. But he needed no formal conversation from this poor broken sole. Only a few answers.
"Where is the one who calls himself the master of the Sorcerers?"
The fiend lifted a rotten arm and pointed with what fingers it had left. South.
"The Uncharted Territories." He guessed. "Can you question the spirits?"
It huddled close to the ground and the flesh began to rot in a very rapid fashion. The animated corpse broke into a million particals of sand which caught aflame.
From the ashes emerged a black spirit of old. It's howl announced it's arrival. It's chilling scream brought it's news from the depths of hates.
So the Guild Master was on a quest south into the Desert. In search of something. What that something was, even the spirit could not know. "Thank you spirits. May your journey into death be peaceful."
He grapped hold of his staff, ramming it straight into the ground. The feind screamed again. Then like a moth to the flame, it ceased to exist in the living realm once again.
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Post by The Shaman on Jan 17, 2008 0:28:44 GMT -5
He stood, suddenly being drawn elsewhere. The spirits had told him of a place of great power earlier that week. He hoped they meant the Sorcerer Guild Hall. Perhaps the priests there could teach him new skills he could one day use against his enemies. That, or the weak would die with his arrival. That was the way of life. The strong survived and the weak left this realm.
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