The Necromancer

Embrace the inevitable

There is a new evil in this world; or to more accurately describe it, and old one reborn.

I am attuned to the Death Magic, after studing it for the 50 years of my life, I have become as accutely aware of anyone - or anything - that attempts to ride the currents of Death Magic which flow strong in this world. Wherever there is death, there is DeathMagic; whereever there is pain, there is the Death Magic; it is composed of the collective entity known to people of lesser mentality as simply, Death.

But no - Death is not simple, not by any definition. Of course peasants and kings define Death as the cessation of life functionings, which of course it is. However they do not understand that Death is a force of nature, just as much as Time, or even Life. And like any force, it can be harnessed and utilized if one is well trained and focused of thought. And like any force, it is unstoppable, unending, and eventually everything must yield to it's power in one way or another. Those who don't understand this force label those that do "evil". Well, maybe by thier simple mindset, we are evil, because to harness Death one must embrace it through what others may consider sadistic methods. Needless to say, after centuries of hearing ourselves and our kind labeled as "evil", we have come to embrace the term whole heartedly. 

For humans (and near-humans) who are like-minded in purpose, and can sense the pulse of Death running like an artery through this world, we have formed the Brotherhood. The Brotherhood is almost as old as Death itself; existing in various forms and cults since time immaterial. However, nearly a millenia ago, a man strong in the understanding of Death, the first true Necromancer, formed a school where the Brotherhood could unify itself; the Scholomance.

The Scholomance was once an ancient prison, some 5 to 6 hundred years ago, before the Cataclysm sent up the Dragon's Spine, a mountain range which now divides the known world into two parts - the familiar southern half, with the sprawling kingdom of Welmyr, and the odd northern half, populated by strange tribes known only as Outlanders to us. It was this prison which the Brotherhood now claims as it's own university: the Scholomance, school of Death.

Fitting, in way. Miles upon miles of tunnels in the upper half of the Scholomance are still lined with jail cells, now used as living quarters for the Brotherhood. In the deeper part of the Scholomance, the old torture chambers still stand; the very walls speak of generations of pain and death, the floor yet stained dark with the oceans of blood that once flowed here. It is said that on quieter nights one can hear the screams of the tortured prisoners as they were pulled, prodded, and mutililated countless ways. Although centuries have passed since then, it's as if the old prison itself remembers the pain; sounds captured forever in the bleak stone walls that have never seen anything else.

Deeper still in the bowels of the Scholomance lie the Catacombs of the dead, both the original prisoners and dead Brothers. Few walls are made of stone and masonry, most are made with the untold thousands of human bones, stacked randomly about - here a wall of skulls, there an altar constructed of ribs. It is here that members of the Brotherhood gather to commune with the spirits of the underworld, and call upon thier dieties of the darkside for supplication.

It is here where I also go, for it is here where I feel my focus of power, and strength of purpose, to one day obtain the coveted title of Necromancer of the Scholomance, a title that would forever seal my immortality among the Brotherhood, if only in name. Every day for the last year I have felt the force of a strong evil grow in power; it is here where I can focus on it, and study it. What - or who - is this powerful evil? It is here where I am attempting to find out.

The harsh orange glow of the torch, nestled just so between a pair of human heads, revealed to the untrained eye a faint shimmer in the air ahead; as if looking across a puddle of water in the summer heat. But to my trained eyes I saw the intricate weaves and nuances of DeathMagic slowly unraveling before me, revealing the form of a small man, with silver hair and leathery face, as he materialized from a Transport spell.

"It's about time" I said to the incoming wizard.

"Well, believe me old man, your wait will be worth it". He said that with a smile, for which I can forgive - we are both the same age, and grew up together in the borderlands to the east. Geoman was an advanced Mage who forsook the Brotherhood decades ago to pursue personal interests - of which I have never been able to ascertain completely. He has since also served as my personal eyes-and-ears outside of the Scholomance, feeding me valuable information of the world at large. Geoman was always a horrible gossip and loved to tell everything.

"Well, then speak - before I grow much older. What have you found?" As much as I cared for the man, I had things to do. And I had been waiting the greater part of the evening.

Stepping forward into the light, Geoman spoke at great length of the strange mass-murder at a Druid temple, a mere 30 leagues from the land they used to call home. While the news of the mass-murder did not raise any concern on my part - found it rather interesting actually - the fact that some inhuman force was responsible was of concern, that and the fact it had clear intentions of finding and capturing the mythological Egg of the Phoenix. This was very possibly the same evil I have been sensing; and if so, it was after the Egg.

Geoman went on to babble about sightings of large armies marching from the Dragon Spine itself; this I found difficult to believe. No man can cross the Dragon's Spine; all who have tried - and lived - reported impossibly high mountains, where the air simply gave out, and of shallow valleys within the peaks where lied ancient ruins of dead cities, destroyed in the Cataclysm. These armies seemed not to be actively invading the defenseless Welmyrians, but rather plundering ancient cities while bypassing newer, more prosperous towns, and even the capital itself. Resistance to this army is unorganized; the feudal state of Welmyr hampered any sort of national army.

After speaking with Geoman for an hour, I thanked him and bid him farewell. There was much to think about. According to the ancient calanders, the Phoenix must have indeed have killed itself by now and is incubating in it's egg, for a period of one month. This Egg contains the embodiment of the force of Life; the exact opposite of Death. Sacrificing this Egg would bring unto me the greatest power that Death could give an individual - true immortality, the power of Death over Life, the ability to become one with the very currents of Death Magic itself.

I would also desire to test my skills against this new evil; to prove to myself and the others of the Brotherhood that I am indeed worthy of the title of Necromancer. With a casual step, I went back towards my chambers to prepare for the first possible site of the Egg - Illhaven, the oldest city on the west coast.....