Black Macken
They had called him every bloody thing but what he was, roaring after him through the woods and thickets that tore at his robes, ankles and face. Sorcerer! Warlock! Witch! As if! In this day and age anywhere in Faerün how could you be so ignorant? Even in this wind blasted little backwater on the shores of the Sea of Stars.
Macken was not quick, or particularly fit. He had tried to stay active though, the winters helped around here you had to get wood ready, stack it, grow a lot of your own food, go to market and trade what you grew for what other's grew to provide yourself with some variety of meals. As the town herbalist, posing as the town herbalist anyway, he used his knowledge of Alchemy to create potions that he traded for meat, he ate a lot of meat and he felt like it was to the good.
He felt as if he would make it to the marsh with time to spare when an arrow whizzed by his face. He let out a little yelp of surprise and tried to pick up his pace, the marsh wasn't far. Shouts of men behind him but thankfully no dogs as the marsh came into view through the trees. Against the sky he saw the tower, his very special tower that the townsfolk were afraid to go near but he knew its secrets, he knew its roots went ever so deep into the earth.
He knew the men behind him would figure that they could shoot him down on the marsh Macken made directly for the open swampy ground anyway. He'd been very careful; the "plague" that had come to the village had not come until more than a year after he had arrived and he'd done many good works in that time.
Then the slow plague came. Villagers started dying but intervention by Macken saved some, in fact he saved more than he lost and managed to save all of the children. Every time he thanked the gods aloud to the villagers saying it was not he that interceded but the gods, when one succumbed to the plague. The whole point was in fact that villagers die of the plague but he was patient and he was selective.
Then the old cleric had come and that had even been at least safe but it had slowed his progress the plague was a real plague you see, a true disease. The occupant of the tower had been a subtle man even back in times even more ignorant than these. He had known a cleric would detect magic masquerading as disease and would know the difference.
So he unleashed the sickness from little beakers through the windows of his victims or onto the vegetables growing in their gardens. They got sick and of course he had the cure. The old cleric had come however and started curing people left and right like it was a bloody game.
Macken had still managed to get a couple though but not nearly enough. So the old cleric had to come down with the plague himself. This was more complicated than it seemed and magic was involved. He made sure the man got the disease then when symptoms would be appearing he attacked; sucking the life out of the old man whilst he was asleep. A huge risk but a necessary one, he had gotten a lot of satisfaction watching the light go out of the old man's eyes as he died.
Macken broke from the trees and scrub and out into the Marsh. He slowed to a jog and pulled out a scroll speaking its words a multi colored dancing cacophony of fiery lights came into being right in front of the place he'd emerged from the thicket.
Business as usual ended when another Cleric had appeared three months later. Alsonia this one was called, she was much younger, attractive even. One of the advantages of the plague was that it left its victims unscarred and unblemished when it took them. If he had been able to take her with the plague he could have embalmed her and she would have remained attractive for many weeks, he smiled at this though, perhaps there was still hope.
Alsonia had suspected him immediately. A plague that didn't spread as other plagues do, that can only be cured by divine intervention or the local apothecary or it killed was suspicious. He kicked himself for not having some people recover without his aid. Her suspicions had culminated in the last few minutes; she'd just walked up to his house and detected his alarm spell. The presence of magic was reason enough to investigate his home.
She had found many things in his home, not least of which was the corpse of the last victim of the plague, a corpse that was supposed to be in the graveyard, he'd not had time to process it. When the alarm spell triggered he'd been at the tower and he had stupidly gone back to his house to investigate. By the time he got there a mob had surrounded his house and he'd been spotted right away, now he was in the middle of the marsh seemingly defenseless with a pack of villagers behind him. He stopped running. There was no making it to the tower and that had never been his intent anyway.
He had worked hard and planned for this day. His lank black hair hung down around his pale face and his berry dyed robe was black against the mist he summoned around him as he turned to face his pursuers. They blundered straight into the faery fire and glowed with the nimbus that stuck to them. They caught only a glimpse of Macken as the fog consumed his form. His tactical advantage was complete; he could see them but they could not see him. There was only one more thing for him to do. He produced another scroll and read it.
If he showed his hand whilst Alsonia was still up and about all would be lost. Only she could save the village now. He finished reading from the scroll and the mace wielding figure he could see glowing with fey light out in the mist dropped to her knees then fell face first into the marsh.
"The Cleric!" One man shouted. "She's dead!" The others blundered toward the glowing figure that had run to the cleric's side, in the fog they could see each other with the faerie fire and they huddled together around the priestess. All around them shadows were moving through the mist. Slowly shambling things were coming toward them that had risen soundlessly out of the mire.
He thought back to the writings of the great wizard who had lived in that tower. Malin, of the seven skulls, the Lich of Myth Rynn had left so many treasures in that tower when he left never to return; treasures and secrets that Macken had uncovered would be mere trivialities to the great wizard now but to Macken they were treasures beyond reckoning.
He remembered especially two passages written in the great Wizard's hand:
By far the best place to conceal undead experiments if one does not have total privacy is within water. Animate undead can be instructed to conceal themselves at the bottom of a lake or river holding a stone to counteract any buoyancy. Marshes and Bogs are especially advantageous as the peat moss has preservative properties that can help to prolong the shelf life of one's experiments.
Macken presumed this was why the tower was built in this location as his zombies surrounded the unsuspecting townsfolk. Malin uttered a cantrip and his voice rang out through the fog from every direction.
"You are fools!" he said "Your cleric is dead and your town will soon follow."
"Macken! You bloody warlock! Come and face us man to man!" Macken visibly stiffened at this statement.
"I'm no man and certainly no warlock! I worked for my magic, I studied and shed blood, sweat and tears for it; I'm a wizard damn it!" The speaker, who Maken thought might be Gnost the town hunter and guide, chuckled.
"You're still an abomination Macken, whatever you call yourself!" Macken thought back to the other passage that sprang to mind as his undead closed in on the mob.
The moment of recognition is sometimes a huge advantage to you if you find yourself in need of disposal of an enemy, using a dead relative as the tool of disposal can often be preferable. A man can be killed more easily by the corpse of his close relative than by the most horrific of creatures with similar physical capabilities.
"Father?!" Macken heard Gnost say before his blood curdling scream echoed through the fog and his compatriots started to die in similar ways. The zombies formed a ring of flesh so that none escaped. They were beaten, bitten and clawed to death within minutes and only moments later their corpses rose to join the ones Macken had already raised. He walked over to his servants and looked down at his prize.
Alsonia's corpse was pristine; he would need the cover of darkness to attack the village he would wait till the hours before dawn to do so when their guard might be down. Until then he would recover his strength and embalm Alsonia's corpse in Malin's lab, no, it was now his lab, his tower, the tower of Black Macken. When he was finished with Alsonia she would remain attractive for many weeks…