Searching Varya

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Searching Varya

Postby Ben » Wed Apr 25, 2012 1:18 pm

Within the tallest tower of the great Necropolis of Osgar in Gweria sat a bowl of crystal clear water in a bronze bowl. The liquid rippled and a face appeared within, its skin grey and brittle. The sole occupant of the room looked down at the face within the water with no hint of surprise, he had been expecting a report from the ruins of Varya for some days.

“We have found where he stood and where he fell.” the voice cut through the air, amplified by the bowl.
“Finally. It seems his Lady had little mercy after all. Neither she, nor history itself, seemed to care at all.” he was elated but it had taken them weeks to find it, thousands of bodies were buried across Varya.
“Shall I have one of the Slayers raise him?”
The robed figure paused before replying “No, There is no time to waste at all. I will come to you and make our friend answer the call.”
The face nodded and disappeared.

Moments later the figure appeared in the ruins, dozens of undead stood around and they drew back as he arrived. In the centre of the expanding clearing lay a collection of body parts that seemed to have been recently exhumed. The bones and rotten flesh lay on a once-white tabard now stained brown by the earth and the armour was rusting.

“You have searched thoroughly?” the figure took a brief look at the body parts: skull, arms, legs.
“Every night and every day.” the messenger replied.
The robed figure picked up the skull, a little piece fell away as he did so. He turned the face towards the setting sun, “Where is his torso?”
The grey-skinned messenger bowed “My Lord, this is all that was found. Other creatures we have raised led the way and they told a story of Annihilation walking these lands when this one fell.”
“No matter, lay out his body parts so that we can see what is required.”
The creature first seen in the bowl rearranged the body parts, its flesh searing when it touched the tabard. After a few minutes the limbs were lain out correctly with the skull at the top.
“Very good.” the figure waved its hand and several undead grabbed the messenger, one took hold of each arm, one grabbed each leg and one held the head tightly before slowly shuffling away. The man began to scream louder and louder and louder until with an unpleasant tearing sound the creatures tore the messenger into five pieces.

The figure smiled before severing the torso that hung limply from one of the legs and then dropped it into the centre of the remains before beginning to incant. The undead began to draw in tighter, attracted by the words of The Quarin and the build up of death magic.

“You who once stood tall and proud
You sleep forever beneath your shroud
You locked your door, barred the window pane
But now your struggle is all in vain
Surrender to us in the sun’s dying days
Build your muscles as your body decays
Rich men, poor men the truth is the same
For now The Quarin calls your name
Your voice once strong now can’t be heard
But now your prayers will be answered
Hope is gone, her days have been
Arise once more Marcus Constantine”

Suddenly the magic poured out of the figure into the body on the ground, attaching the severed limbs and skull to its new torso. The skeletal creature climbed heavily to its feet and looked up with vacant, milky eyes which darted around as if looking for something.

The black robed figure smiles darkly once more “You are missing something, aren’t you? It is a part of you, part of your arm, you feel incomplete without it. Summon it to you.”

The latest addition to the ranks of the undead hesitated.


The body reached out its right arm to one side and left it there expectantly but nothing happened. After thirty seconds of this, the figure began to get impatient and was about to banish its newest useless minion before it heard a low whistle as if something was flying though the air towards them, looking up the figure could see a hammer approaching. The undead could sense something and scattered and the robed figure chose to take a few steps away from Marcus.

The hammer landed in Marcus outstretched hand and as he closed his fingers around it his arm was ripped apart by life magic. The robed figure watched unsurprised and waited for the hammer to fall. The creature looked confused and began to reach out with the other arm.

“Thank you Constantine, that will be quite enough.” he beckoned over a man who was standing silently nearby observing the scene unemotionally “you gave up your soul in order to survive the Glooms now you serve us. Bring the hammer.”
The man obediently walked over, hefted the holy hammer of Hope and the pair teleported off. The remains of Marcus Constantine joined the rest of the Soulless in their conversion of what remained of Varya.
"And unconscious people always count as willing"

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Re: Searching Varya

Postby Ben » Thu Apr 26, 2012 4:37 pm

Within the Oubliette, the great dungeon beneath Osgar, the robed figure stood in the centre of a chamber lined with a dozen heavily barred doors. Beside him the man he had plucked from obscurity to become his hammer bearer waited silently.
“What is your name?” the robed figure asked conversationally but with an air of quiet menace
“Skinner sir, Isaac Skinner.”
“I will call you New Marcus.”
The man nodded impassively, “Yes sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Good.” the figure gestured to the room and the doors around it. “As you are a testament, New Marcus, sometimes we keep people alive rather than grant them the gift of undeath. The reasons for this can be many but none of them are particularly important which is why I have brought you here to kill a few of them.”
The hammer bearer nodded once more, “Yes sir.”
“Excellent. Let us see what Is so special about that weapon of yours, shall we?”

The figure waved his hand and the first door slid back. After a few seconds an old man could be seen, craning around the corner.
“Human?” the man nodded in response, “Very well. New Marcus, you know what to do.”
The hammer swung through the air crushing the elderly man’s head. The body sunk to the floor, blood forming a pool beside him.
“Effective…but I believe we could have obtained the same effect from a normal hammer or even a large rock. Let’s try the next."
The next door opened and from within stepped a yellow-skinned elf. The recently named ‘New Marcus’ swung the hammer and the elf jumped out of the way, he swung again but once again the elf dodge.
The robed figure sighed before waving his hand at the elf “Fuse!”
The elf dropped to the floor in a foetal position, crying in pain and New Marcus swung the hammer once more. As the hammer made contact, the head turned black and malevolent, filled with shadow magic and there was silence from the elf as he collapsed once more.
“Very good, I am impressed. Let’s do another shall we?”
The next door opened but this time no one exited, after a few seconds New Marcus walked into the cell and looked around.
“Empty.” the man walked back through the door towards the robed figure. As he turned his back he was struck with something wet and sticky and turned round to see a Brown Shirakan had just become visible and tried to harm the soul he no longer had. He smacked him in the stomach with the hammer, its head turning to fire as it struck the lizardman dead.
“Good! It can do elemental as well as the purer forms of magic. Let’s try one more, give it a challenge.” he looked around the cell doors, reading the plaques which each bore a roughly scratched name until he stopped at one that read simply Olba. “Perfect.”

The door swung open and from with stepped a tall, beautiful woman blue-skinned woman. She looked at the two men with ancient eyes and smiled. New Marcus charged.
“Whirlwind.” the hammer bearer flew backwards into the wall and the woman stepped out her cell and looked at the robed figure who bowed before stepping back.
“Please, don’t let me interrupt”
New Marcus pulled himself to his feet and began to stride towards the woman once more.
“Water Cannon.” the man flew backwards again “Mist.” suddenly the room was filled with a grey haze. New Marcus once again tried to make it across the room, feeling his way carefully when he heard the word “Ward” from his left. He turned but realised he could go no further, he tried to go back but something was stopping him from moving in any direction. The mist dissipated and the woman stood looking at the man quizzically.
“You have come to kill me?” she said, her words fell softly like morning rain but behind them there was something much stronger. The man nodded and the woman sighed. “Storm Bolt!” the magic went straight through the ward striking the man in the chest. “Storm Bolt!” once more it struck him and he fell backwards into the Ward. “Storm Bolt! Storm Bolt! Storm Bolt!” the bolts struck him repeatedly until, as life left his body, the corpse fell through the ward.

There was a sound of clapping and the robed figure stepped forwards once again.
“You killed New Marcus.” he observed.
She nodded, raising her hands towards him as if about to cast again.
The figure smiled “Dominate!” and the woman stopped.
“Pick up the hammer.” she walked through the ward and hefted the weapon, swaying slightly under its weight.
“Place your hand on the floor.” she did so.
“Strike your hand with the hammer.” the head turned a ruddy earth colour and burst into flames as she brought it down heavily, crushing her fingers.
“Drop the weapon and go back into your cell.” with a gesture he barred the door behind her once more then looked at the hammer again.
“A most potent weapon, bound with the power to summon whatever magic would hurt someone most. How simply divine.” he weaved his hands over New Marcus' corpse and he stood once more, the hole in his chest dripping.
"Go and find one of your friends and bring them here. I have an appointment to keep with Samuel."
"And unconscious people always count as willing"

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Re: Searching Varya

Postby Ben » Mon Apr 30, 2012 11:43 am

The robed figure spent some time on the Light Elf. He didn’t do much raising personally, he had created others to do that for him and when he did raise someone it was usually for a specific purpose so was a quick process that created...slow undead.

Intelligence was important, spellcaster would suit the Elven body, specialist of course and incorporeal would round it out nicely. What sphere of magic? Light was impossible of course…shadow would be nicely ironic.

The figure had just finished his creation when the undead formerly known as New Marcus arrived along with some mouth-breather. The living were so disappointing but he smiled and put his arm around the man.

“Hello Marcus, I have a job for you.”
“Erm…my name’s not Marcus.”
The robed figure stopped smiling and turned to look the man in the face “Touch of Death” the man whose name wasn’t Marcus slumped to the floor.
“I didn’t like him, find me someone else.” this was addressed to his latest creation who bowed and disappeared into the shadows, followed in a couple of minutes by New Marcus and the still-warm Not Marcus.
"And unconscious people always count as willing"

Tome of Magic 6.0

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