19th Trial of Saun, 717 Arc
Farmlands outside of Etzos
They had grown in power. He and Noth and their small faction they called Al’Angyryl. They had become a more secure entity and recovered slightly since the near disaster that was their attempt to rescue the Don. Neronin hadn’t brought out his Marrow mask since that night. But with three strong minions, his Maimers, in tow he felt on top of the world. Neronin had, since creating them, felt much more secure. He wore the mask again, tonight.
The necromancer walked through a rocky field just before dusk. The three hunched figures of his undead flanked him. The hood of his robe beat against the side of his head as the twilight wind moved around them. Neronin strode with dark purpose towards the road he knew many farmers used to return home after a day’s work in the fields. There was a small cluster of farms not three leagues down that road, and he meant to intercept one such wagon.
As he approached the road, Neronin sent a wave of will over to his thralls, making them crawl into the bushes on the side of the dirt road. Neronin himself took up a casual, patient stance on the side of the road. He was eager to test his monsters again. To reassert himself as an embodiment of nightmare. The rush from such dominance was enticing. After many days spent cooped up in the museum, and further nights spent in practice in Noth’s Cavern, he was ready to stretch his legs. So to speak.
When the sounds of a wagon approaching could be head beyond the near bend in the road Neronin’s eyes shot to the spot. He stepped out into the middle of the road and waited, his hood half hiding the skull mask he wore. As the donkey turned the bend and revealed a wagon with what looked like a father and grown son and three workers in the back, Neronin waited for them to see him. When the father, who was driving the donkey on, saw him he leaned forward and frowned. He was clearly trying to make out Neronin’s features, seeing if he recognized the man blocking his path. Neronin held up a hand in greeting while lowing his head slightly to make certain they didn’t see his mask.
Neronin felt his undead notice the living. He felt their eagerness to consume. In that moment he felt closer to the undead than the living. In that skull mask, Neronin was one of them. He was just as monstrous, but the difference was he bore it inside himself. I will be feared, then respected, then avoided. He thought with a cold conviction.
Neronin lowered his hand and tilted his head back as the wagon came to rest in front of him. His mask was clearly visible to the farmers now, all five of whom suddenly looked fearful.
“Who are ya?” The father asked, his voice hoarse and his eyes wide. But his hands fell to the quarterstaff at his side and his jaw clenched. Bravery. Neronin silently commended the man for his nerve. Not many would have the same reaction.
Neronin waved two fingers and his undead clawed their way out of the nearby bush. Each gnawed hungrily at the air, reaching for the men with clawed hands. Their eyes glowed with the green light of his magic. Neronin began to gather his power, igniting the spark within him. The thing had grown so much in its bond with him. He now felt as though it was as much a piece of his soul as anything could be. When the green power flickered through his blackened veins and nearly his whole body flashed ghastly undead, Neronin was no longer alarmed. He knew this to be the spark closing the gap between them. It was power manifesting itself.
Farmlands outside of Etzos
They had grown in power. He and Noth and their small faction they called Al’Angyryl. They had become a more secure entity and recovered slightly since the near disaster that was their attempt to rescue the Don. Neronin hadn’t brought out his Marrow mask since that night. But with three strong minions, his Maimers, in tow he felt on top of the world. Neronin had, since creating them, felt much more secure. He wore the mask again, tonight.
The necromancer walked through a rocky field just before dusk. The three hunched figures of his undead flanked him. The hood of his robe beat against the side of his head as the twilight wind moved around them. Neronin strode with dark purpose towards the road he knew many farmers used to return home after a day’s work in the fields. There was a small cluster of farms not three leagues down that road, and he meant to intercept one such wagon.
As he approached the road, Neronin sent a wave of will over to his thralls, making them crawl into the bushes on the side of the dirt road. Neronin himself took up a casual, patient stance on the side of the road. He was eager to test his monsters again. To reassert himself as an embodiment of nightmare. The rush from such dominance was enticing. After many days spent cooped up in the museum, and further nights spent in practice in Noth’s Cavern, he was ready to stretch his legs. So to speak.
When the sounds of a wagon approaching could be head beyond the near bend in the road Neronin’s eyes shot to the spot. He stepped out into the middle of the road and waited, his hood half hiding the skull mask he wore. As the donkey turned the bend and revealed a wagon with what looked like a father and grown son and three workers in the back, Neronin waited for them to see him. When the father, who was driving the donkey on, saw him he leaned forward and frowned. He was clearly trying to make out Neronin’s features, seeing if he recognized the man blocking his path. Neronin held up a hand in greeting while lowing his head slightly to make certain they didn’t see his mask.
Neronin felt his undead notice the living. He felt their eagerness to consume. In that moment he felt closer to the undead than the living. In that skull mask, Neronin was one of them. He was just as monstrous, but the difference was he bore it inside himself. I will be feared, then respected, then avoided. He thought with a cold conviction.
Neronin lowered his hand and tilted his head back as the wagon came to rest in front of him. His mask was clearly visible to the farmers now, all five of whom suddenly looked fearful.
“Who are ya?” The father asked, his voice hoarse and his eyes wide. But his hands fell to the quarterstaff at his side and his jaw clenched. Bravery. Neronin silently commended the man for his nerve. Not many would have the same reaction.
Neronin waved two fingers and his undead clawed their way out of the nearby bush. Each gnawed hungrily at the air, reaching for the men with clawed hands. Their eyes glowed with the green light of his magic. Neronin began to gather his power, igniting the spark within him. The thing had grown so much in its bond with him. He now felt as though it was as much a piece of his soul as anything could be. When the green power flickered through his blackened veins and nearly his whole body flashed ghastly undead, Neronin was no longer alarmed. He knew this to be the spark closing the gap between them. It was power manifesting itself.
Made by Kovic
Great thread, well written. Do drop me a pm if you've got any questions.