BoD B2C23 - The Change

It was difficult not to get to work on the remains straight away. For a moment, he had to laugh at himself. What had he become? No sooner had he finished killing seven people than his fingers began to itch for his carving knife. He relayed the feeling to Dove when he picked up the skull and his friend commiserated in his traditional fashion.

“You were always a creepy fucker. If anything, the Necromancy has allowed you to truly express your true self. The love for carving human flesh was inside you all along.”

“Shut up, Dove,” Tyron rolled his eyes. “I did not want to butcher people.”

“I notice you said ‘did not’ and not ‘do not’, you sick bastard.”

“I can’t create minions without getting at the bones, you idiot skull.”

“Hey, no judgement here. I’m only surprised you didn’t get straight to chopping.”

The Necromancer blew out a breath along with his frustration. Dove was always difficult when he felt he needed to lighten the tension.

“I need to perform the status ritual, as well you know. With these seven dead, along with the rift-kin that I slayed, I might have enough for two levels. I can’t create new minions until I see what choices I get.”

“Well hurry up and get to it, man. I might be dead, but I don’t have endless patience. The first choices you get in a new class are usually pretty damn swish. A little reward for making it over the hump.”

“What did you pick, when you reached twenty-two?”

“I was able to make a new, more powerful spirit contract. Swimming the astral sea, looking for a creature that vibed with me, those were the days. Up to that point, all I had was my stupid bird. Don’t get me wrong, he’s awesome, but much less impressive than a kick-ass wolf who can eat rift-kin for breakfast.”

“I bet…. How did you even level up with nothing but a hawk?”

The eyes of the skull flickered in amusement.

“Not all of us were on the run from the law, kid. I was in a mage academy, getting drunk, practising magick and trying to get laid. Took me two years to settle my foundation and ascend my Class. I didn’t have to fight a rift-kin until I’d reached level twenty four. Not directly, anyway.”

“That sounds nice,” Tyron sighed.

He certainly hadn’t had that luxury.

“If you think all kin are the same as the little shits that you’ve fought so far, you’re out of your mind, kid. Go through a rift and take a peek at the other side if you get the chance. You’ll shit your dark, ominous robes inside a minute.”

“I wouldn't doubt it.”

If that weren’t the case, superhuman people like his parents wouldn’t have had to spend all of their time travelling to hotspots, clearing rifts when the Slayers hadn’t been able to keep up.

If just anyone could do it, no one would need to scale the heights of power in the way they had.

“Hopefully something good comes up,” he sighed, “I need all the help I can get.”

“I’m hoping for sexy ghosts.”

Tyron hesitated. He couldn’t help it.

“Why… would they be… sexy? Exactly?”

“Why in the name of all that is good and holy would you create an unsexy ghost?”

The young mage hung his head. He should have known not to ask, of course he should have known. After all this time, how could he still be asking, expecting something other than complete nonsense?

“I’m going to perform the ritual. Don’t speak to me, until it's done. Or ever again.”

“You got it.”

Events:

You have directed your horde with precision in battle. Minion Commander has reached level 2.

You have coordinated the actions of your undead to great effect. Undead Control has reached level 2.

You have experienced the world through the eyes of your minions. Minion Sight has reached level 5.

You have raised minions and they have fought on your behalf. Undead Weaver has reached level 22. You have received +2 Strength, +4 Constitution, +6 Intelligence, +2 Wisdom, +2 Willpower, +2 Manipulation and +4 Poise.

The Abyss welcomes your sacrifice, even as it delights in the taste of your thoughts. The Scarlet Court is content with your progress, so long as you recall the favours you owe. The Dark Ones remain amused at your antics. For now. Anathema has reached level 11. You have received +2 Constitution, +2 Intelligence, +2 Willpower.

Name: Tyron Steelarm.

Age: 18

Race: Human (Level 14)

Class:

Necromancer (Level 20).

Sub-Classes:

• Anathema (Level 10).
• None
• None (Locked)

Racial Feats:

Level 5: Steady Hand.

Level 10: Night Owl.

Attributes:

Strength:

24

Dexterity:

21

Constitution:

68

Intelligence:

93

Wisdom:

49

Willpower:

50

Charisma:

26

Manipulation:

41

Poise:

30

General Skills:

Arithmetic (Level 5)(Max)

Handwriting (Level 5)(Max)

Concentration (Level 5)(Max)

Cooking (Level 3)

Sling (Level 3)

Swordsmanship (Level 2)

Sneak (Level 3)

Butchery (Level 5)(Max)

Skill Selections Available: 3

Necromancer Skills:

Corpse Appraisal (Level 10)

Corpse Preparation (Level 10)

Death Magick (Level 8)

Bone Mending (Level 5)

Minion Commander (Level 2)

Undead Control (Level 2)

General Spells:

Globe of Light (Level 5)(Max)

Sleep (Level 5)(Max)

Magick Bolt (Level 5)(Max)

Necromancer Spells:

Raise Dead (Level 10)

Bone Stitching (Level 10)(Max)

Commune with Spirits (Level 4)

Shivering Curse (Level 6)

Death Blades (Level 5)

Bone Armour (Level 3)

Minion Sight (Level 5)

Anathema Spells:

Pierce the Veil (Level 4)

Appeal to the Court (Level 2)

Dark Communion (Level 1)

Suppress Mind (Level 4)

Repository (Level 2)

Fear (Level 3)

Necromancer Feats:

Skeleton Focus II

Magick Battery II

Anathema Feats:

Repository

Wall of Thought I

Mysteries:

Spell Shaping (Initial): INT +3 WIS +3

Words of Power (Initial): WIS +3 CHA +3

Undead Weaver Level 22. Choose an additional Skill:

Spirit Binding - Create Minions from the spirits of the dead

Ghoul Flesh - Instil Death Magick into the flesh of the deceased

When he looked down at the paper and took in just how far he’d come, it was hard not to get emotional. It had been a struggle, and he’d had to fight for everything he’d achieved, but the results were there on the page.

Officially, he’d be a bronze rank Slayer if he didn’t possess this illegal Class. One of the superhumans responsible for defending the people from the rifts and fighting to maintain this world.

He shook his head.

I’ll make it happen, he vowed to himself, someway, somehow. I’ll make it happen.

His physical body had never been stronger or more durable than it was right now. Sadly, his flexibility and coordination remained rather pathetic, he wouldn’t be beating anyone in a swordfight, but he could live without that. All he had to do was find ways for his undead to hold their own against other high levelled individuals and he’d never have to worry about fighting anyone hand to hand.

His Intelligence translated to a vastly increased pool of magick to work with, and the mental muscle to wield it. His Wisdom lagged behind, but not so far that it would be a detriment. His ability to handle his power had never been as fine as it had become now.

He could handle far more skeletons now, perhaps as much as forty. The only thing holding him back was the need to move undetected on the plains. Too large a group would make discovery all but certain.

Still, new options, new spells, new avenues to improve his situation. He’d been looking forward to seeing what what the Unseen would offer him, but he wasn’t immensely pleased with what he saw.

Spirit Binding. Ghost minions. They would be useful, more than useful, but was Tyron really willing to bind the spirits of the dead into his service. Using the remains was fine, but this? He’d promised the last bandit he’d killed that he wouldn’t use their spirits in any way.

But the other option was even less palatable. Ghoul flesh? There was only one type of undead that possessed flesh, and that was zombies. Infusing the flesh with death magick… would likely have the effect of preserving it, or perhaps even strengthening it. Stronger, faster zombies, possibly a whole new type of undead in their own right.

“What have you got, kid?” Dove asked.

Tyron shared his options.

“Ghouls. Nasty buggers. Not really a zombie, they’re a whole different thing. Faster, harder hitting, but more reliant on the integrity of their flesh than a skeleton, so they’re squishier.”

“What about the other?”

“What do you mean? It’s Spirit Binding. It couldn’t scream ‘ghost’ any harder if it tried.”

The Necromancer pulled a face.

“Don’t give me that look you ponce,” Dove scoffed. “Spirits are awesome. Invisible most of the time, they can float about and get into all sorts of shit. Right pain in the arse.”

“Can they fight?”

“I’m not sure about that. Just because I’ve seen undead doesn’t make me a damned expert.”

“If you had to guess?”

The skull sat silent for a moment.

“If you held a blade to my throat, I’d laugh at you, then say probably not. Spirits capable of causing harm, or at least severe harm, certainly do exist, but I think they’ll be higher level than what you’ll be offered right now.”

“Why couldn’t they just have given me a better form of skeleton?” Tyron groaned.

He’d had enough moral quandaries to deal with lately, he didn’t need this on his head as well. He’d found the resolve to hunt down and kill the bandits to continue growing, though it had been difficult. Now was he really going to commit further and start enslaving spirits of the deceased?

“Stop being such a pansy about it,” Dove rebuked him. “You know as well as I do that the only sensible choice is the ghosts. You don’t have the Skills or Feats to support flesh-based undead, and the spirits will fill in a niche that you need. With a few invisible ghosties spying for us, our chances of slipping through the plains undetected will shoot through the fucking roof.”

The former Summoner was right. It was the obvious choice. That didn’t make it any easier for Tyron to accept it.

“Look. Negotiate with them or something. Give them a period of time they’ll be bound and then release them voluntarily afterwards. Same as you’ve done with me, except you’ll actually keep your promise.”

“Dove, I will release you.”

“Good. I’d be really pissed off otherwise. Does that soothe your conscience a little?”

Strangely enough, that did sound more palatable to Tyron.

“So I wouldn’t keep them forever, just for a period of time?”

“Basically, yeah. Just say, ‘hey, it sucks, you’re going to be an undead ghost-thing. Good news, I’ll let you free after a year’ and then go on with your day.”

It took a little longer for Tyron to convince himself this was a good idea before he eventually placed his thumbprint next to Spirit Binding.

As always, the inrush of energy from confirming the Ritual left him breathless and lightheaded as the power of the Unseen suffused him. New knowledge trickled into his mind, a new magickal technique that would allow him to create a new type of servant.

His love for magick was such that despite his earlier misgivings, he already wanted to experiment with the new method. There would be a great deal to learn, slivers of knowledge that may be applicable in other places. His fingers itched.

This also meant that every bandit he killed, there existed the potential to create two minions, rather than the one. The bones would of course be turned into a skeleton, but the spirit could now be used as well….

Tyron destroyed the paper marked with his blood and stood with a sigh.

“Alright then. Time to go have a chat with some pissed off bandit ghosts.”

“Hey, you do you. I think I’ll sleep.”

The light faded from the skull’s eyes, leaving Tyron on his own. He huffed and picked up his friend before starting to trek back to the cart. It was never a good idea to dive into a new magick without some thought and preparation, so once he found the worn wooden transport, he rummaged in his pack for his book, sat Dove on a corner post before returning to the building.

The details of this new method were still sorting themselves out in his brain and Tyron needed to put them more or less in order before he dared to use it. He ordered the skeletons to drag the corpses out of the building and found a more or less clean chair to sit in and get to work.

The new method was… difficult. To utilise a spirit and turn it into an undead minions was something of a process. The… subject… needed to be housed in a shell before it could exist and operate as a minion, which was what this new ability did. He could use his magick to form an intangible… housing, in which a spirit could be bound.

Once completed, he would then be able to cast Raise Dead, to create the conduit between the spirit and himself and bind it to his service.

Presumably, he wouldn’t need to construct a nascent mind within the undead, since it would already have one, which meant he could likely abridge the ritual to exclude those parts. A thought for another time.

“Right then,” he said as he put down his pen.

He perused his notes one more time before he made his way outside to look at the seven dead bandits on the ground.

“Well. I promised you that your spirit would be free from interference. So you’re out.”

He turned to the other six.

“But you guys are all fair game.”

To negotiate with the spirits, or tell them his conditions, more accurately, he would need to speak to them before he raised them. He rubbed his palms together. It was time for magick.