Necromancer's Dream, A Story of Arvas Options

[Lord Veneficus]

I know, it's short; just bear with me.

Chapter I

Arvas sat in the dim, noisy tavern on the outskirts of the Imperial City. The drunkards stumbled about the room, bumping into tables and spitting curses at the more sober groups of people. Much raucous laughter filled the smoky air as traveling minstrels strummed their lutes and pounded on their drums. The innkeeper was hunched over a dirty glass, proceeding to wipe away the grime caked at the bottom of the mug. He was balding and almost as tall as Arvas; but due to his massive hunch, his head came up to Arvas’s chest. He was slowly swaying back and forth with to the tune of the music.

“Excuse me barkeep, can I have another tankard of beer, please,” Arvas asked, raising his cup up. The barkeep disappeared behind the counter and returned with a somewhat clean mug. He hobbled over to the beer tap and poured Arvas a generous amount. Arvas took the mug and raised it slightly, saying, “Thanks.” He downed the beer in minutes.

His life had recently taken a downfall. He had to flee Morrowind, as he wanted to free himself from the temple. He didn’t agree with all of their beliefs.

A man had stood up, knocking his chair over in the process. His staff glowed with bright blue magicka. No one seemed to care as he screamed into the face of a rather bulky man, who was unfazed by the dark-robed mage in his face. He rather stared off into space. “I…I could… kill ye righ’ now if ye wanted me too, Bjorn.” He stuttered as he wobbled to the door. Arvas stood from the creaky old stool and began for the door. The innkeeper looked at him and said, “Where you goin’ boy? Come pay for this.” He shook the empty mug at him. Arvas sprinted from the tavern, away from the Imperial City.

He entered the fort that he had cleared out a few days ago. It wasn’t very large because it was only built for a captain and several of his men. The beds were ancient and holes were eaten out of the sheets from the many moths that floated about in the darkness. He slumped down into his bed and attempted to sleep, which proved difficult. He was worried that at any moment someone could come in his small makeshift home and take him back to Vvardenfell.

After two hours of tossing and turning, he finally fell asleep, dreaming of one day becoming the greatest sorcerer of the ages…



This post has been edited by Lord Veneficus: May 13 2008, 01:12 PM

[Lord Veneficus]

Chapter IV

“…which is why we must bring down our fists against them for banning us. Their guild halls will be burned! Their bodies will dance for us. This is a declaration of the destruction of the Mages’ Guild and all their precious magical policies!” The entire room of necromancers burst into a round of applause and cheer. Mannimarco raised his hand and the yelling quickly stopped. “Now, we will finish this meeting with the induction of new members. First off, Nero, step up to the podium.” A man stood from the end seat on one of the rows; his black robes were tattered, one sleeve was missing, leaving a large muscular arm bare to the elements. Mannimarco waved his hand and a slight red glow emanated from the large man. Mannimarco continued on this pattern for several minutes until he reached Arvas.

“You, what is your name?” He asked as he leaned forward on the podium. Arvas stood up and placed his arm across his chest.

“My name is Arvas, sir.” Mannimarco raised his eyebrow; he seemed to be thinking hard.

“You seem familiar, but nevermind that. Welcome to the order, Arvas,” he said as he waved his hands in the same pattern as before. Arvas thanked him and sauntered back to his chair, head held high. He had always wanted to be something dark and malicious to spite his father. He had been a high ranked temple priest when Arvas left Morrowind. “Bolor! Come, we must leave.” Mannimarco grabbed his staff and headed for the door; it had a large skull on it with the same eerie skeletal hands scratching across the mauled face.

The group shortly dispersed and began to stride about the bright room, purchasing dark gems and evil jewelry from old, toothless hags. A short, squat man hobbled over to Arvas. “You have a strange aura emanating from your soul, my friend. You will make a fine brother, Arvas. Now, I need you to go on a collecting assignment for me. I need you to get two small pouches of bonemeal and a full set of skeleton bones. By the way, my name is Bandir,” he said with the utmost confidence. He handed his blackwood cane to Arvas; it had a large, finely cut ruby placed at the top. Arvas looked at him as though he had gone mad. “Why are you giving this to me?” The small man just smiled.

“You’ll need it much more than me, mate,” Bandir said as he walked away. Arvas left for the door, gently taking off his robes as he made his way to the surface with his wonderfully crafted cane.

When he got to the large stone door leading from the safe haven of Vilverin, the young doorkeeper snapped his fingers and the door opened to reveal the dark night surrounding the Imperial City’s White Gold Tower. Arvas decided he would take the bonemeal and skeleton bones from the graveyard in the Green Emperor Way outside of the Imperial Palace. It would be risky, but he knew that he would get them the easiest without much work.

He came down the alleyway leading to the Imperial Palace. Nothing moved around him except for the shrubs and bushes swaying in the cool night air. No one had noticed him entering the graveyard, which he was grateful for.

Everything was quiet in the graveyard; Arvas began digging in the silence, occasionally grunting whenever he shoved his spade into the cold hard dirt. He worked well into the night, not bothering to stop for a break…