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 V

Arvas found the bonemeal and the skeleton. He did not know why he was sent on such a meaningless task, but he knew that he would be punished for not completing his assignment.

He got back to Vilverin with the large skeleton and the small pouches of bonemeal. Bandir was sitting in a chair in a dim part of the ruin, reading a scripture written by Mannimarco. Arvas handed him the items and he placed the skeleton next to him. He then poured a small amount of bonemeal into his wine; Arvas was enraged. All of that precious time grinding of bone into dust was wasted for bonemeal wine.

“You had me dig up bones and grind them up into powder, just to pour you’re your wine?! What a most useless task! I could have been doing something worthwhile, like reanimating dead corpses or anything that could benefit us in some way!” Arvas stood there indignantly, waiting on Bandir to reply.

“You will not speak to your superior like that! The skeleton you brought to me is going to be reanimated for you to do with as you please and not all of the bonemeal will be used in my wine,” he roared. By this time, the short man had stood up, barely reaching Arvas’ shoulder. He fixed his robes and said, “Take that skeleton to Geleborn, he will teach you how to reanimate it. I bid you goodbye!” He stormed off, leaving behind the scripture and his wine. Arvas lifted the old bones of the skeleton and gently placed them in his pack. He asked several of his guild-mates where Geleborn was; they told him he was in the small room off of the eastern passage leading to the bedrooms.

Arvas walked down the torch-lit hall, his cane tapped the floor every step. He had not put his robes back on since he left last night; he did not think they were important to wear, as they only weighed him down.

He entered the little room. Geleborne was sitting at a table, writing notes on pieces of parchment. The room was bright and the ceiling was low. There were calipers, tongs, knives, scythes and many alchemical ingredients lie strewn upon the bloody floor. Chains hung from the walls and a strange looking contraption lie crumpled in a corner. The smell of blood filled his nostrils and he began to feel exhilarated. “Hello. Are you Geleborne? I was told to come see you for the reanimation of my newly found skeleton.” Geleborne turned around and stood from his hunched position at the desk.

“Yes, I am. Go to the table in the middle of the room and assemble the bones of the dead onto it.” Arvas stepped to the scarred table and pulled the bones from his pack. He placed the skull on the table and continued until every bone was perfectly placed on the body. “Good, you passed the first test. Now, I want you to think of the bones coming to life in front of your very eyes, moving from place to place, protecting you forever. Place your hand on the skull and send your magicka flowing into the rotted bone marrow.”

Arvas removed his black chain mail glove and moved his hand to the skull. He concentrated on the very thing that Geleborne had described and sent his magicka into the lifeless corpse lying before him. A black haze left his fingertips and floated around the body. It began to quake; Arvas began to feel dizzy and he lost his concentration, the dark haze swept back into his outstretched hand. The skeleton fell back to the table with a dull thud. “Don’t lose your concentration, my friend. You must have your mind set on the very thing that I have explained to you and nothing else. Ignore your queasiness and push your magicka into the very soul of this dead creature.”

Arvas tried once again. This time, more of the black smoke fell from his palm and enshrouded the body. The body parts began to assemble themselves with an invisible force and Arvas could feel the drowsiness come back. He moved his hand and spun around to vomit onto the floor; he retched up several times. He wobbled over to a chair and sat down. He downed a few glasses of water before being instructed to get some rest, but not before he had been assured that those bones would still be lying there for him in the morning…