Private Tales The Necromancer

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
"Oh we have mages, but they also have specialized areas. Mages for war, enchanting, and for strategy and even some basic necromancy, limited to communing with dead soldiers for information, nothing this serious." He explains, "but sending our young mages to the college is something that my father is working on."
 
This caused Caliane to frown a little; even a mage with little experience who was talented in Necromancy would probably have been a good skill to have along on a mission like this.

"It's a good thing to do, I've never been but I've heard it is the best place for humans to learn magic," she shrugged her shoulders. Her magics had always come as naturally as breathing to her, it was always a little jarring to hear that people needed to learn it in order to harness the energies that governed the world.
 
He hadn't brought along any necromancers, for one there was only two or three in the duchy, and none of them were nearby, and for two he was certain that this necromancer hadn't started out like this and he didn't want any of them to be tempted by the obvious power. For the remainder of the day they spoke and worked, all of them, thinking, plotting, planning, preparing and talking. Then night fell.

Eberwolf had told Caliane to get some rest while Cannan and Boris took watch. It was going to be another sleepless night though, and their wall of thorns was soon to prove useless. Skeletons, much like those of before, had taken to the skies. They rode skeletal horses, infused with wings made from human femurs, and connected by human skin. Again, the skeletons and their mounts weren't naked bone, but still held some muscles and sinews.

Sir Boris yelled everyone awake, it was not going to be fun.
 
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Caliane awoke to the shouts, rolled on to her back and was gifted with the sight of a pair of skeletal hooves about to smash into her face. She rolled to the side, narrowly missing the hooves and drawing her sword in time to meet the human who rode on its backs weapon. With one hand she parried whilst with the other she conjured a ball of flame and set the horse alight. It screeched and bucked as the white flame licked along it and then up the skeletal rider too. She stepped to the side as they went bronking past her then turned her eyes back to the sky where the attack was coming from.

She reached up to the tie that kept her cloak in place and loosened it, let it drop. Her white wings stretched and then with a push down of her wings she was airborne, the grass she left behind flattened from the pressure of the wind they caused. It seemed to startle one of the creatures as she leapt to meet the blade of one soldier who was bearing down on Cannon. The fire once again pooled down her blade and as it was thrust into his body the whole thing went up in flames and went crashing to the ground writhing. A grimace and she was moving on.
 
For the sudden revelation of her wings, nobody seemed surprised. The rangers had, as mentioned before, guessed at what she was and we're fairly certain that they were correct, and they were. The rangers, being expert marksmen, focused on bringing the beasts down to earth by firing arrows that, more often than not, struck the base of a wing and cut it clean off, and once it was grounded, the four knights would see to it that they were slaughtered. Again, as before, it was long and hellish, and all of them would have difficulty, in fact, one of the mounted skeletons cut into Sir Kiriil, who fell dying on the spot.

The fight was over, Eberwolf had a few new scars, and one of their team was dying. When Caliane landed, she'd we all the unburnt corpses Bing left alone, with everyone gathered around the dying Sir Kiriil. Cannan and he were clasping each other's forearms in a sign of brotherhood before Kiriik let out his last gasping breath.

Eberwolf was not happy. He walked over to one of the skills and picked it up. "Well Legion? Any words of scorn or mockery to share, witch?"
 
Caliane ignored the words and gently but firmly shoved some of the men out of the way.

"Move," she was covered in ash from the flames and her wings were still glowing with the white fire of her magic, those that came near to them would be able to feel the heat much like that of the heart of a fire. Her hand when she laid it on Kiriil's brow however was cool despite that. Healing wasn't her primary magic and it didn't work on herself but it was enough usually to bring people back from the brink enough that other medicines could then help the wounds further.

A flame rippled down his body seeking out the wound before searing it shut at the same time she murmured soft elvish words that were like a birds song in the morning, a stark contrast to the events. If she had been in time the wound would not be fully closed but his life would indeed be saved, the bleeding inside now stopped and the damaged reversed.

She sat back on her hunches and watched intently to see if it had taken ahold.
 
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The men around them looked on with worry. They had all survived that far into the war, and now one of them was on the verge of death. Eberwolf would not grab the skull until he knew if Kiriil was going to live or die. And it was close, very very close, but not close enough. Kiriil still died despite the Avariel's efforts, and the men were sure to include her as one of them, Cannan stood up and placed a hand on her shoulder and simply said, "thank you."

Eberwolf's questioning of the head which followed soon after, bore fruit. The heads spoke. "Awwww. Doesn't sound like you're in the spirit of the game good sir. Not very sportsmanlike. Besides, you still broke more of my toys than I did. You won this round my lord, rejoice. We can play again tomorrow."

"Damn you! This isn't a game, and my men aren't pieces on a chessboard! Turn yourself in and I'll see to it that you face more forgiving justice. Refuse, and justice will be compounded for every injury my men suffer!"

"Oh, someone's not being very gentlemanly. This is a game. Life, is a game, the weak are eaten so that the strong can live. Your friend simply wasn't strong enough, and so the bigger dog ate him. It's that simple. See you on the field, we're going to be having a lot more fun."

Eberwolf's grip on the skull increased exponentially with his increasingly uncontrollable fury, and before too long, the skull shattered in his grip. "Caliane, can you trace a source of magic, such as where these skeletons are being controlled from?"
 
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Remorse filled her eyes and weighed heavy on her shoulders causing them to slump when her magic didn't help to save his life. Perhaps if she had been a stronger healer or he an elf it would have been different; she would have been able to use her Soulfire. When Cannan put a hand on her shoulder she looked at him with sorrow for despite his kind words she felt like a failure.

"I am sorry," the sadness in her voice might reduce a man to tears so sweet and yet sorrowful it was. Before he could respond her attention was called upon by Eberwolf and she dutifully rose and picked her way over to him. Caliane was a high quality tracker amongst her people but the stench of death would make it harder.

"Not the magic, but I could lead you to where they came from," she picked up another head and, after wrinkling her nose in disgust, held it to her nose and breathed deep. Past the smell of death to the scents beneath. It took a moment but she pulled back and nodded grimly; she would be able to track them back to the nest.
 
Caliane Ruinë said:
"I am sorry,"
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“You have nothing to be sorry for. You tried, that means that something was done, that doesn’t make it your fault.” Cannan said.

Eberwolf nodded, “that will do, we’ll bury him first, or we can leave him to be retrieved for a proper burial later. I’ll leave that decision to you all.”

The vote was quick and unanimous amongst the men that they retrieve him later for burial. So they set him up in his bedroll as though sleeping and covered him to protect him from predators and scavengers. Then they followed Caliane Ruinë to the place where the skeletons came from. It was one of the ruined villages. And the night was soon to get worse.

“We split. Cannan, Boris, Flakkir and Adan, search the southern half of the village, Boris, blow your horn if you’ve found something, bow it twice if you are in trouble. Caliane, Forlief, you’re with me, we will search the northern half, I will blow my own horn in the same patterns. Meet in the square when we’re done.”
 
Despite the sombre mood Cali couldn't help the small feeling of gladness that none of them seemed to have a problem with her wings. She had been tortured and nearly killed because of them before so whenever the reaction was positive or there was none at all it made her more relaxed. Hiding them was like wearing a mask.

As they were split up she caught Forliefs gaze upon them and a small smile graced her lips. As they turned and began walking she said lightly.

"They're like bird feathers, you can touch one if you like."
 
Caliane Ruinë said:
"They're like bird feathers, you can touch one if you like."
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Forlief was kind of surprised that she'd let him touch one. But he wasn't going to do so now, "I might take you up on that later. But right now, we're likely in a lot more danger than is apparent. So let's keep our guard, and keep our eyes open. If I were a crazy necromancer, where would I be hiding?" He asked out loud. Then he answered himself, " somewhere defensible with a lot of escape routes and room for making undead soldiers. The Lord's Manor perhaps?"

"Yes, and with our history of war there's bound to be a practically indefinite supply of corpses to raise, man and beast alike. Let's clear this area, then we meet with the others and search the Lord's Manor."

(Can ya see where I'm going with this?)
 
"Are there any cave networks nearby? It is another place I have found them in the past, they like warrens though if this manor is anything like yours then I can see the appeal," Cali took care to keep her wings off the ground as they walked and she rubbed her hands up and down her arms. There was a feeling in the air like they were being watched and it sent goosebumps up her arms.

She followed them through the streets quietly and the oppressive silence only grew worse. They didn't seem to cross anything else though until the ended up back at the meeting spot to give the rest of the group their idea about the manor. The whole village reeked of the same scent and it was so overwhelming she couldn't give them any further help.
 
Caliane Ruinë said:
"Are there any cave networks nearby? It is another place I have found them in the past, they like warrens though if this manor is anything like yours then I can see the appeal," Cali took care to keep her wings off the ground as they walked and she rubbed her hands up and down her arms. There was a feeling in the air like they were being watched and it sent goosebumps up her arms.
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"As far as I am aware, no, there are none. There's also the crypt, a short distance from the village. It's a system of catacombs that run five levels deep. It could be a practical heaven for a necromancer like Legion." Forlief suggested.

She wasn't the only one who was feeling watched. And being watched they were. By countless, lifeless eyes, all biding their time. When the time came, they would be beast by the undead, and the puppeteer would watch from a safe distance, laughing. They would not be alone for the remainder of this journey.

They met back up and they decided to check the Manor. A large, lavish three story building of stone with windows of glass. Unlike the village, it wasn't destroyed. It still stood, proud, firm and foreboding. There was a sense of wrongness that radiated from the house, which only made him more sure that their quarry was there. "Ready yourselves. Something wicked this way comes."
 
It spoke volumes that this was the only place in the village that seemed to have not been destroyed. There were no signs of a struggle; no tables turned over or chairs thrown against the wall. It merely looked like the people here had closed up and gone away for a large vacation. Even tiny little glass ornaments were polished. Cali had stopped to look at one out of curiosity more than anything; it seemed so strange they would continue looking after the place. Her mind was whirling through the possibilities - was one of the family here the necromancer?

She was about to voice her thought when something grabbed her ankle and pulled her feet sharply out from under her. Caliane hit the ground hard and the wind was knocked from her lungs for a brief moment, head ringing as she began to get dragged down the corridor. The rest of the place had erupted into chaos too and she kicked hard at the thing that had her about the ankle with her other foot.
 
Caliane Ruinë said:
She was about to voice her thought when something grabbed her ankle and pulled her feet sharply out from under her. Caliane hit the ground hard and the wind was knocked from her lungs for a brief moment, head ringing as she began to get dragged down the corridor. The rest of the place had erupted into chaos too and she kicked hard at the thing that had her about the ankle with her other foot.
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When she was grabbed, the thing that grabbed her had taken off with extreme haste. The only reason for the chaos was her sudden absence. And she wasn’t the only one who was taken. Each of the group had been grabbed, and dragged to different parts of the manor, far apart from each other. And once they were thoroughly separated, a voice echoed throughout the manor, the voice of the woman called Legion.

“Oh? Loose something, or a few somethings it appears? Not to worry, all of you are alive and well for now. You made me start a little early, but my game is prepared well enough. You’ll find me in the manor crypts. But first you have to find the six keys that unlock the gate, a gate of my own design. You’ll know them when you see them. Oh, and my pets are in there with you, and to even the playing field, they’re impervious to fire and handheld weapons, so you have no chance at fighting them. Good luck.” She ended with a malicious giggle.
 
She wasn't sure how long she had been out exactly but she had clearly hit her head along the mad dash she had been dragged on through the manor and she woke up in the library to the creepy voice. Rubbing the base of her neck she muttered a few choice elvish curses under her breath and looked around the room, ears straining to hear anyone else in the rooms nearby, but even when the voice finished its sinister laugh she heard nothing.

With care she looked at her ankle and grimaced slightly at the growing bruise there; Avariel's bones were naturally weaker than a humans even - hollow so that it was easier to fly. She was lucky it wasn't broken. Steadily she stood and then cast her eyes about the room. Nothing seemed to be amiss here in terms of none of her horrid creatures were about but they might lurk in the hallway. Her lips thinned and she thought about the keys she woman had mentioned. Was one here?

She began to tear the room apart.
 
Eberwolf found himself in a long corridor. His greaves had made sure that the beast’s grip hadn’t broken or damaged his leg in any way, and when Caliane checked her ankle, she’d notice that she was bleeding from claws that had been on the ends of the monster’s long, bony fingers. Eberwolf was concerned when he heard Legion mentioned her “pets”, for some reason he doubted that they were like the other undead she had summoned.

But his concern quickly gave way to fury. He felt hatred making his blood boil. And this made his brain work overtime, he had to find these keys, find his team, and drag Legion back to Kinniger Castle by her hair for a lifetime of prison. Or he could just kill her, he found himself tempted to pull out her tongue and flagellate (violently beat) her with her own bones. He began to look around at the doors along the hallway. He’d systematically search each room, and then he came across a locked door, when he did, Legion spoke again.

“Oooooh, looks like the white knight is making progress.” She said with mocking glee. “A locked door could be a good or bad sign. Either way, you’ll have to find more keys.”

His response was a violent kick to the door, sending it clean off its hinges.

“My my, someone’s a little more active than I thought they’d be. I don’t know whether or not to call that cheating.”

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On Caliane Ruinë’s end, she’d find a black iron key lodged between the floorboards, not a key to the gates, but a key. Specifically the key to the door that locked her in this room. “Well done my little red bird. Now you can go and find other keys, and be careful, my pet won’t just lock you in a room this time. Good luck Little Red Bird, I hope that you last, you are probably the most entertaining player.
 
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"Because that isn't concerning at all," Caliane muttered when the voice faded and she twirled the key in her fingers thoughtfully. Her wings where spread out behind her like a cloak of white and red and when she stood they made a soft sweeping noise across the floorboards. By the sounds of it this wasn't the key the Legion had said they needed so she tried it in the only other lock possible; the door. With a soft snick it turned the lock smoothly. The door creaked open and she carefully peered out, her hand clenching and unclenching on the hilt of her sword. But she saw nothing and with care stepped from the safety of her room into the corridor. There was a dead end one way and numerous other doors leading to a landing in the opposite direction. With a sigh she began to check the other doors, some were open others locked.

Much like Eberwolf she didn't have the time to find the keys that unlocked them. Instead with a little bit of fire she melted the mechanisms and pushed the doors open to see what was inside.
 
Caliane Ruinë said:
Much like Eberwolf she didn't have the time to find the keys that unlocked them. Instead with a little bit of fire she melted the mechanisms and pushed the doors open to see what was inside.
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Legion sighed, "you and that knight are in such a hurry, not very entertaining. And I'd advise against making such noise, my pets use their sense of hearing more than their sense of sight, so burning and breaking things is not advised. Though, my pets are terribly lonely, having a feathery you to play with might do them some good."

Inside was an office of sorts, or a study, a desk sat at the back, with a looking painting of a nobleman staring at the door, where one would come in. So she'd find herself being watched by the painting. The rest of the room was normal, a bookcase, unlit candles in sconces, inkwells, quills, parchment and various decorations, from bear and wolf heads stuffed and mounted, to suits of armour that carried lonswords held in front of them.

One flick of her wrist would see the candles lit and the room illuminated. If done, she'd find a written note on the desk.

Cellar​
 
Caliane's wings fluffed up at the mention of being used as a feathery play toy for her creatures and she made the conscious decision to close the door behind her softly and put a chair in front of it whilst she searched the room. Her eyes were good in the dark but after a while she did decide to light the candles with a wave of her hand before continuing her search. Having searched the walls and bookcase she sat down behind the desk, which was when she saw the note. She tucked it into her pocket then went through the rest of the draws carefully, feeling for anything hollow or anything concealed then tapped her fingers on the wooden top.

"Why is it always underground, why not go to the roof," she muttered to herself and then made for the door. She was halfway there when she looked back to the painting and squinted at it.

"Would it..." she walked back over and then took it down and ran her hands along the back just to make sure there was nothing hidden there.
 
Nothing was found in the desk save a few decades-old shipment and finance records. None of that would be very helpful in this situation. So when she searched the desk, she found nothing of importance. But when she checked the painting, there was something to be noted. It wasn't a door, but put in the frame behind the painting was none other than another key, this one's how was in the shape of someone's heart, as in the organ, and when the painting swung back into place she'd see that the eyes had shifted to watch her, and there was a bloody hole in the man's chest where his heart would be. And blood, actual blood, oozed from the painted hole.
 
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This is a horror house, she thought quietly to herself as she took the key and then backed away from the painting, her eyes unable to leave that of the paintings. It was only when she got to the door did she chance a glance behind her and then leave, shutting the door quietly behind her with a breathy sigh.

"Cellar I guess," she glanced at the other doors in the hallway and then the three paintings. As the last had been successful she decided to take them all down too and check behind them but also the back of them and their frames encase there was anything else. If there was nothing else of interest here she would begin to make her way to the landing to find a way down.
 
There was nothing to find in the other paintings, so she would move on quickly. The cellar was difficult to find, she'd end up in a number of places before she found the way down. And as she entered, she'd realize that she could not use her magic as she descended. The black depths seemed to welcome her, or try to suck the life out of her as she delved deeper into the abyss. The cellar was smaller than one would think, and illuminated by one candle on a stand in the middle of the room, the only light she'd have down there. There were barrels and kegs more than anything else, one rack of bottles was off to the left, but none of the bottles contained any liquid, a good place to hide something. Each of the bottles bore dates, and some forms had letters. There were sixteen bottles, two forms were blank, a puzzle if noticed.

She'd have the feeling of being watched while down there.
 
Caliane was becoming increasingly frustrated with how humans laid out their homes. Why did it need to be so difficult to find your way around your own home? The Avariel's homes were simplistic but still held beauty - it didn't need to be so complicated. The doors and passageways were also not built for someone with wings and at times she found she had to walk side ways in order to fit.

The feeling she had in the cellar did nothing to dampen her irritation merely grow it. Still, she pushed it down and took a breath. She started on the barrels and kegs, opening them up and casting the thin light over them to see if there was anything inside, before turning her attention to the bottles. On a few of them she had to brush off dust to make out the symbols and it took a while to work out what they said in Common Tongue but in the end she got there, then stepped back and cast her eyes around for a pen and paper so that she might be able to write them all out.

As she worked the creeping feeling of distress and of being watched scaled her spine and made it tingle but for now she chose to not look for it. Her sword was close at hand should she need it.
 
The corks read, when the bottles were placed from oldest to newest, follow the blood. And the minute that she had finished reading it and looked away, the bottles were then no longer empty, all held dark red liquid, though only one held blood. It would be impossible to tell which one by looking, and no smell left the bottles, she’d have to taste them. Then the rest of the instructions were fairly simple, pour the blood onto something, the floor or parchment or anything really, and she’d get her next task.

The big issue was that the dates read several decades before, and none of them had been properly sealed, so she’d either taste blood or vinegar. And after the blood was poured, it would crawl up and grow on the bare wall to form a doorway, with a lock but no handle, one guess what key it needed.

When opened, the door revealed nothing, just blackness, not even the candle’s light pierced it. But she had to go in. What she needed was in there. “Well, little red bird? Will you go? The black beckons you.”
 
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