Obi-Wan Kenobi
A Bold One
>Bury the dead. You still have yet to honour your family with this simple rite.
The other way lies insane necromancy. Do not become our enemy.
The other way lies insane necromancy. Do not become our enemy.
-
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Fantasy Skinless: An Undead Journey
- Thread starter Stickdom
- Start date
Genon
Two Thousand Club
> Write-in: Attempt to summon your family's souls to the living world and politely ask them if they would like to be resurrected.
Obi-Wan Kenobi
A Bold One
Well shit. If that's possible, then this.Genon said:
Spicy Serious
Divinely Devilish
> Write-in: Attempt to summon your family's souls to the living world and politely ask them if they would like to be resurrected.
_________________________
Good thinking Genon! If this works we're on our way to
white necromancy!
(I change my vote to this by the way)
_________________________
Good thinking Genon! If this works we're on our way to
white necromancy!
(I change my vote to this by the way)
Obi-Wan Kenobi
A Bold One
[QUOTE="Serious Face]white necromancy!
[/QUOTE]
Aye, that's the aim of the game for a sane person with necromantic powers.
[/QUOTE]
Aye, that's the aim of the game for a sane person with necromantic powers.
n i h i l i s m
my jinji don't you cry
Welll, it sounds like a lot of work. But at least we're being polite.Genon said:
Stickdom
Salamancer, first class
- Attempt to summon the souls of the departed and inquire if they wish to be resurrected through necromancy-
A flash of innovation comes to you at the thought of this new power, the ability to restore the dead to life. In your past life, you were once well-versed in the study of anomancy, the magic of the soul, you could easily have called them to this realm to ask this question. Now your memory is hazy and vague, the details of magics you once knew by rote are dim glimpses in your mind that pass to and from shadowy thoughts. But, now that you have access to the darker arts, the possibility is renewed. You stand over the corpses of those you once held in your arms and called dear names, your wife Halatha, and your son, Ethroan. Time is short, the souls of the deceased pass quickly into the realm of eternal sleep, and you know not how long they have lain here. You shamble into the house, taking care not to disturb the bodies on the threshold.
Painstakingly, you enter your old study, little more than a closet with a desk stuffed with scrolls and a shelf of tomes and vials of potions. However, they have been nearly destroyed, apparently Oridon had not been content with only destroying your family, but also many of your belongings. the room is scorched and blackened, the scent of evil fire lingers in the air, ever-burning and malicious. You spend several minutes sifting through the ashes and debris until you find the object of your search: a wand of runic engraving, slightly singed, but thankfully a quick test shows that it is still workable. You hurry as quick as your body allows, kneeling in the dried blood and marking the ground around the corpses with a ring of symbols and magic designs. The runes are etched into the stone floor, sigils of rejuvenation and and restoration of the soul, more commonly used to set the souls at peace for the long journey they undertake, but also used to temporarily call the spirits of the dead into a momentary wakening.
This at least you remember, you check and recheck the signs to confirm their accuracy, and then prepare yourself to infuse them with magical power. Especially in your weakened state, you do not know if you will be able to call them back to this world for any length of time, and attempting to bring two back at once may be a challenge even your former self would avoid. But you do not know if you will have the strength to perform two summonings in a row, so if you wish to save both, you may have to forgo caution and simply pray that you are strong enough to hold the bond for their sakes. They have been dead for long enough that by the time you can rest enough to safely cast the spell a second time, the remaining soul will be lost forever. The choice lies before you, take the risk of calling both souls at once for fear of losing them to the void, or praying that you have enough strength to perform the spell twice in a row, else losing the second soul to oblivion for eternity..
- Summon the soul of your beloved wife first.
- Summon the soul of your dear son first.
- Summon both souls at once.
- Write-in
A flash of innovation comes to you at the thought of this new power, the ability to restore the dead to life. In your past life, you were once well-versed in the study of anomancy, the magic of the soul, you could easily have called them to this realm to ask this question. Now your memory is hazy and vague, the details of magics you once knew by rote are dim glimpses in your mind that pass to and from shadowy thoughts. But, now that you have access to the darker arts, the possibility is renewed. You stand over the corpses of those you once held in your arms and called dear names, your wife Halatha, and your son, Ethroan. Time is short, the souls of the deceased pass quickly into the realm of eternal sleep, and you know not how long they have lain here. You shamble into the house, taking care not to disturb the bodies on the threshold.
Painstakingly, you enter your old study, little more than a closet with a desk stuffed with scrolls and a shelf of tomes and vials of potions. However, they have been nearly destroyed, apparently Oridon had not been content with only destroying your family, but also many of your belongings. the room is scorched and blackened, the scent of evil fire lingers in the air, ever-burning and malicious. You spend several minutes sifting through the ashes and debris until you find the object of your search: a wand of runic engraving, slightly singed, but thankfully a quick test shows that it is still workable. You hurry as quick as your body allows, kneeling in the dried blood and marking the ground around the corpses with a ring of symbols and magic designs. The runes are etched into the stone floor, sigils of rejuvenation and and restoration of the soul, more commonly used to set the souls at peace for the long journey they undertake, but also used to temporarily call the spirits of the dead into a momentary wakening.
This at least you remember, you check and recheck the signs to confirm their accuracy, and then prepare yourself to infuse them with magical power. Especially in your weakened state, you do not know if you will be able to call them back to this world for any length of time, and attempting to bring two back at once may be a challenge even your former self would avoid. But you do not know if you will have the strength to perform two summonings in a row, so if you wish to save both, you may have to forgo caution and simply pray that you are strong enough to hold the bond for their sakes. They have been dead for long enough that by the time you can rest enough to safely cast the spell a second time, the remaining soul will be lost forever. The choice lies before you, take the risk of calling both souls at once for fear of losing them to the void, or praying that you have enough strength to perform the spell twice in a row, else losing the second soul to oblivion for eternity..
- Summon the soul of your beloved wife first.
- Summon the soul of your dear son first.
- Summon both souls at once.
- Write-in
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archur
watch for the flash
- Summon the soul of your beloved wife first.
- Summon the soul of your dear son first.
If our power is that hazy, let's have a little test run. Don't want to get in over our heads with both at once.
- Summon the soul of your dear son first.
If our power is that hazy, let's have a little test run. Don't want to get in over our heads with both at once.
Spicy Serious
Divinely Devilish
...Dangit all...
-Summon the soul of your beloved wife first.
___________________________
I curse my inability to come up with a clever solution!
-Summon the soul of your beloved wife first.
___________________________
I curse my inability to come up with a clever solution!
Stickdom
Salamancer, first class
- Summon the soul of your beloved wife first.
Your wife comes first, naturally. Halatha, the love of your life, it tortures you to see her body defiled and dead on your own front stoop. She must be the first, your son will soon follow. You kneel in the blood and dirt, placing your hands on the ring of symbols you carved into the floor. Thankfully there is no incantation for this spell, only an infusion of mana into the runes and a direction of thought to the soul of the lost ones. You focus on what was your spouse, concentrate on how she was in life, then you let flow a surge of essence into the runic circle, and a rush of blue mana seems to pour from your fingers, filling the grooves and lines like a shimmering river. It takes a moment to completely fill the pattern, but when it does, the magic takes effect and you feel the wrenching of reality, as if a vacuum that can only be filled by what you are seeking. It quickly fills as the soul of your departed comes into being, a flickering immaterial image takes shape over the circle, and you are faced by the soul of your wife.
She is as beautiful as you remember, if it would not break the spell, you would reach out to caress her beautiful face. The spirit seems not to have noticed you yet, her form not completely materialized from your memories, but her eyes wander and her mouth moves, you can read your name on her lips though no sound comes forth. The familiar features come into focus and you can sense her searching for you. 'Where?' The thought permeates your mind, not so much a word as a feeling, a yearning and seeking. You nearly release your hold as she looks directly at you, her face falling into despairing surprise as she speaks the words, "It's you." Accusingly. "How could you do this, after what you've done? It can't be you, you should be dead. Why did you bring me back? What have you-" Her voice cuts short as a pained look covers her face before you can respond to any of her questions, at first you believe the shock of seeing you alive, or as much as you can be, is taxing her, but her spirit darkens visibly, and you tear your eyes away from her to the symbols on the ground. The streams of mana that fill them are roiling now, no longer glowing a bright blue. You never felt the spell slip from your control, but now they have darkened to pitch and black flames burn on the surface. She screams in pain, the heart-wrenching cry of a banshee that pierces every facet of your existence. You try to draw back, but you seem fixed in place, the spell still draws through your hands, through your essence, and you can do nothing but watch in horror. The flames creep ever upward, now licking at her form, and the scream continues as it roars over her body. It finally consumes her, the flames leaping up one last time, and then vanish, leaving nothing but a falling cloud of ethereal ashes and the echo of her voice, crying out your name. The circle is empty, her mortal body destroyed so there is nothing left even to bury, and you know that her soul is lost forever even to the power of resurrection. You dare not attempt the spell again for your son, though you have the mana reserves to perform the ritual again, the result would surely be the same.
If your body was capable of tears, you would be weeping in agony. You have a new respect for the ability of a Necromancer, how easily they seem to call the souls of the dead into service, their arts are far more powerful and costly than you had ever imagined when you were alive.
- Resurrect your son. The spell to call his soul alone may fail, but perhaps you can return it to his body still.
- Bury your son. Better to leave the dead as they are, you are no necromancer and you wish him to rest in peace.
- Gather some supplies and leave. You must find The Lich and make him pay for what he has done.
- Torch your house. You have no reason to be attached to this place any longer, it is only a painful memory now.
- Attempt some other spell [Write-In]
- [Write-In]
Your wife comes first, naturally. Halatha, the love of your life, it tortures you to see her body defiled and dead on your own front stoop. She must be the first, your son will soon follow. You kneel in the blood and dirt, placing your hands on the ring of symbols you carved into the floor. Thankfully there is no incantation for this spell, only an infusion of mana into the runes and a direction of thought to the soul of the lost ones. You focus on what was your spouse, concentrate on how she was in life, then you let flow a surge of essence into the runic circle, and a rush of blue mana seems to pour from your fingers, filling the grooves and lines like a shimmering river. It takes a moment to completely fill the pattern, but when it does, the magic takes effect and you feel the wrenching of reality, as if a vacuum that can only be filled by what you are seeking. It quickly fills as the soul of your departed comes into being, a flickering immaterial image takes shape over the circle, and you are faced by the soul of your wife.
She is as beautiful as you remember, if it would not break the spell, you would reach out to caress her beautiful face. The spirit seems not to have noticed you yet, her form not completely materialized from your memories, but her eyes wander and her mouth moves, you can read your name on her lips though no sound comes forth. The familiar features come into focus and you can sense her searching for you. 'Where?' The thought permeates your mind, not so much a word as a feeling, a yearning and seeking. You nearly release your hold as she looks directly at you, her face falling into despairing surprise as she speaks the words, "It's you." Accusingly. "How could you do this, after what you've done? It can't be you, you should be dead. Why did you bring me back? What have you-" Her voice cuts short as a pained look covers her face before you can respond to any of her questions, at first you believe the shock of seeing you alive, or as much as you can be, is taxing her, but her spirit darkens visibly, and you tear your eyes away from her to the symbols on the ground. The streams of mana that fill them are roiling now, no longer glowing a bright blue. You never felt the spell slip from your control, but now they have darkened to pitch and black flames burn on the surface. She screams in pain, the heart-wrenching cry of a banshee that pierces every facet of your existence. You try to draw back, but you seem fixed in place, the spell still draws through your hands, through your essence, and you can do nothing but watch in horror. The flames creep ever upward, now licking at her form, and the scream continues as it roars over her body. It finally consumes her, the flames leaping up one last time, and then vanish, leaving nothing but a falling cloud of ethereal ashes and the echo of her voice, crying out your name. The circle is empty, her mortal body destroyed so there is nothing left even to bury, and you know that her soul is lost forever even to the power of resurrection. You dare not attempt the spell again for your son, though you have the mana reserves to perform the ritual again, the result would surely be the same.
If your body was capable of tears, you would be weeping in agony. You have a new respect for the ability of a Necromancer, how easily they seem to call the souls of the dead into service, their arts are far more powerful and costly than you had ever imagined when you were alive.
- Resurrect your son. The spell to call his soul alone may fail, but perhaps you can return it to his body still.
- Bury your son. Better to leave the dead as they are, you are no necromancer and you wish him to rest in peace.
- Gather some supplies and leave. You must find The Lich and make him pay for what he has done.
- Torch your house. You have no reason to be attached to this place any longer, it is only a painful memory now.
- Attempt some other spell [Write-In]
- [Write-In]
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archur
watch for the flash
Gather supplies. It's payback time.
EDIT: Find allies. Doing this alone is going to be tough, and creating allies has already proven unsuccessful.
EDIT: Find allies. Doing this alone is going to be tough, and creating allies has already proven unsuccessful.
Last edited by a moderator:
Genon
Two Thousand Club
...Stickdom said:
...
...
This is...not what I thought would happen. I guess we should have known better to try necromancy without knowing what we were doing. Fuck. Not even eight updates in and we accidentally murdered our wife through our own stupidity.
But what's done is done. That's quests for you.
--> Write-in: You're going to need help, and lots of it, if you truly intend to defeat the Lich. Attempt to use magic (scrying, telepathy, or otherwise) to contact any of your still-living allies to get some much-needed backup.
EDIT: Followed by...
--> Gather some supplies and leave. You must find The Lich and make him pay for what he has done.
Last edited by a moderator:
Genon
Two Thousand Club
Editing my vote again.
--> Write-in: You're going to need help, and lots of it, if you truly intend to defeat the Lich. Attempt to use magic (scrying, telepathy, or otherwise) to contact any of your still-living allies to get some much-needed backup.
-----> Sub-vote write-in: Ask them to rendezvous at the house if you can.
Although, I am a bit worried that we might instead end up with a squad of paladins or the local militia out for our blood (or lack thereof), since as an undead we aren't very trustworthy.
--> Write-in: You're going to need help, and lots of it, if you truly intend to defeat the Lich. Attempt to use magic (scrying, telepathy, or otherwise) to contact any of your still-living allies to get some much-needed backup.
-----> Sub-vote write-in: Ask them to rendezvous at the house if you can.
Although, I am a bit worried that we might instead end up with a squad of paladins or the local militia out for our blood (or lack thereof), since as an undead we aren't very trustworthy.
Spicy Serious
Divinely Devilish
--> Write-in: You're going to need help, and lots of it, if you truly intend to defeat the Lich. Attempt to use magic (scrying, telepathy, or otherwise) to contact any of your still-living allies to get some much-needed backup.
-----> Sub-vote write-in: Ask them to rendezvous at the house if you can.
-----> Sub-vote write-in: Ask them to rendezvous at the house if you can.
Syndrome
Intimate Filth
>What everyone else said
Stickdom
Salamancer, first class
- Contact any allies you think will assist you.
The direness of your situation is apparent, you cannot wholly rely on your power to act as they once did. You will need allies to stand with you, friends in life thus unto death... you hope. Every social circle you connected to all had one aspect in common: a hatred for dark sorcery, a being of which you have now become. You cannot be certain that they will aid you or turn on you. You can only pray they will see that under your decaying body, your masterful mind and righteous heart remain. You step away from the circles engraved on the floor, into the house, into the kitchen, and find a small knife, only several inches long, but more than enough for your purposes. Spells of scrying needs a portion of your body, the magical eye needs blood to link what it sees to your senses, and a message to be delivered must be written in it. You prick your finger, hoping that you still retain blood enough to conjure this spell, and you can only pray that the black ichor that slowly draws from the tiny injury is still your life-liquid. It is as if all of the blood in your body had congealed, hardened by time and lack of use. You cannot feel your heart beat nor does a pulse throb in your veins, the blood may not replenish once spent, you must use it sparingly until you can discern your limits.
But the amount necessary for this spell is minimal, only a few drops spread in the dusty surface of the wooden table in your kitchen to form the words of seeking. Your blood contains the message you wish to send, your thoughts fill the sanguine lines, hopefully to be received by any allies that you still have. You mentally picture those you intend this message to reach; a handful of hedge mages that may come to your aid if only to practice their wizardry; a few loyal clerics that would surely side with the Archmage, undead though you are, over their sworn enemy the Lich King; a guild of alchemist-scholars that may have a cure to your curse, or at least some knowledge of your current state. You speak in croaking tones, the words having trouble finding your missing tongue, but you manage to cast the incantation correctly. The blood-writing congeals into an orb, hovering above the surface of the table, then splits into a myriad separate spheres before launching themselves through the open doorway and away across the countryside to their destinations, each one seeking a separate individual. You do not know who will respond or how, but the message should reach your hopeful allies by midday, only a handful of hours away. Now you must decide what to do in the meantime.
- Wait at the house for a returned message. You can collect supplies and bury your son in the meantime.
- Enter the village. You can probably make your way to town and return before any message arrives.
- Mentally search for the Lich King. You can try to hone your connection and hopefully pinpoint his location.
- Practice other spells. You are not yet fully aware of your arsenal, better to collect them now while you have time.
- [Write-in]
The direness of your situation is apparent, you cannot wholly rely on your power to act as they once did. You will need allies to stand with you, friends in life thus unto death... you hope. Every social circle you connected to all had one aspect in common: a hatred for dark sorcery, a being of which you have now become. You cannot be certain that they will aid you or turn on you. You can only pray they will see that under your decaying body, your masterful mind and righteous heart remain. You step away from the circles engraved on the floor, into the house, into the kitchen, and find a small knife, only several inches long, but more than enough for your purposes. Spells of scrying needs a portion of your body, the magical eye needs blood to link what it sees to your senses, and a message to be delivered must be written in it. You prick your finger, hoping that you still retain blood enough to conjure this spell, and you can only pray that the black ichor that slowly draws from the tiny injury is still your life-liquid. It is as if all of the blood in your body had congealed, hardened by time and lack of use. You cannot feel your heart beat nor does a pulse throb in your veins, the blood may not replenish once spent, you must use it sparingly until you can discern your limits.
But the amount necessary for this spell is minimal, only a few drops spread in the dusty surface of the wooden table in your kitchen to form the words of seeking. Your blood contains the message you wish to send, your thoughts fill the sanguine lines, hopefully to be received by any allies that you still have. You mentally picture those you intend this message to reach; a handful of hedge mages that may come to your aid if only to practice their wizardry; a few loyal clerics that would surely side with the Archmage, undead though you are, over their sworn enemy the Lich King; a guild of alchemist-scholars that may have a cure to your curse, or at least some knowledge of your current state. You speak in croaking tones, the words having trouble finding your missing tongue, but you manage to cast the incantation correctly. The blood-writing congeals into an orb, hovering above the surface of the table, then splits into a myriad separate spheres before launching themselves through the open doorway and away across the countryside to their destinations, each one seeking a separate individual. You do not know who will respond or how, but the message should reach your hopeful allies by midday, only a handful of hours away. Now you must decide what to do in the meantime.
- Wait at the house for a returned message. You can collect supplies and bury your son in the meantime.
- Enter the village. You can probably make your way to town and return before any message arrives.
- Mentally search for the Lich King. You can try to hone your connection and hopefully pinpoint his location.
- Practice other spells. You are not yet fully aware of your arsenal, better to collect them now while you have time.
- [Write-in]
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archur
watch for the flash
>Practice other spells. A few cathars might appear at your doorstep,but if you can prove you are an archmage through righteous sorcery of pure magic, you would have some standing as the hero you once were.
>Write in: Find a mask or something. Your withered face must be disgusting to look at, and that could turn away help immediately.
>Write in: Find a mask or something. Your withered face must be disgusting to look at, and that could turn away help immediately.
Syndrome
Intimate Filth
>Practice other spells.
Spicy Serious
Divinely Devilish
>Practice other spells. A few cathars might appear at your doorstep,but if you can prove you are an archmage through righteous sorcery of pure magic, you would have some standing as the hero you once were.
>Write in: Find a mask or something. Your withered face must be disgusting to look at, and that could turn away help immediately.
>Write in: Find a mask or something. Your withered face must be disgusting to look at, and that could turn away help immediately.
Obi-Wan Kenobi
A Bold One
[QUOTE="Surprise Meteors]>Practice other spells. A few cathars might appear at your doorstep,but if you can prove you are an archmage through righteous sorcery of pure magic, you would have some standing as the hero you once were.
>Write in: Find a mask or something. Your withered face must be disgusting to look at, and that could turn away help immediately.
[/QUOTE]
Seconding.
>Write in: Find a mask or something. Your withered face must be disgusting to look at, and that could turn away help immediately.
[/QUOTE]
Seconding.