The young child cried silently in the dark house. He was huddled up underneath the table in the middle of the small home, scared to come out. The things, they came into their place during the night, broke down the wooden door. His parents barely had time to hide their son. There were the sounds of struggling, one of the things speaking in an unusal tongue, and then the screams.
A sound, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from outside the house, and entered through the broken door. The boy cowered under a nearby blanket, as several lighter footsteps were heard, seeming to run towards the source of the first.
"Raahzagal! Grrrashkal!"
"Time to die, dark creatures!"
Spears of blueish light zoomed by the open doorway, making wooshing sounds as they flew. Several, high pitched demonic screams were heard, as the sound of several small bodies hit the ground. The child, unable to cry out or whimper, wept slient tears as he waited for whatever monster that killed the imps to come into the house for him.
Lighting flashed, as the tall, lean figure entered the doorway. As this person walked into the house, his armor and boots made heavy metallic rustling sounds. The boy peered out from his hiding space, making sure he was unseen. The figure, a man, wore mysterious black armor, covered in some white metal carved in the shapes of bone. His shield looked to be made of bone, and in his hand was a shining dirk, a thin stream of dark green poisonous liquid streaming down the blade. He wore a great helm that covered his face, with horns that seemed to belong to a great demon jutting out of the sides of his armor. He walked slowly, in an eerie calm fashion.
"Sad. These people have already been slained by the fallen. I've arrived too late." The necromancer kneeled down beside the corpse of the boy's father, and reached into his suit. He pulled out a vial of clear liqud, holy water, and then removed his helm. His face did not look like most necromancers', stern and paled with hours spent studying dark magics. Rather, he seemed to have the appearance of a kindly grandfather as he uncorked the vial, and poured half it's contents onto the corpse. He then lowered his head, and began to utter a prayer.
Had a paladin, or any other student of the Zakarum witnessed this, they would have been in shock. Here, a dark mage of the undead, was performing an extremely holy act upon a corpse. After performing the same ritual on the boy's dead mother, he reached for his helm, only to see the frightened child.
"Hello there, little one." Putting his dagger on the ground gently, he reached for the boy. "Come now, I mean you no harm. Everything will be fine."
As the elderly mage crept closer, the child moved away from him, uncertain of his intentions. He looked into the necromancer's eyes, and sensed something other than the outward gothic appearance of the man. Something told the boy that he could trust this person, this old man who was extending a hand towards him. Slowly, he got out from under his blanket and let the old man help him up.
"The bad things killed mum and dad." The mage looked at the small child with sad, understanding eyes. The little one seemed to be in shock, so much so that he was beginning to yawn and get tired. He didn't quite comprehend the entire situation at the moment.
"I know. The bad things are gone now. We'll take care of you." He picked up the lad, and walked out into the moon lit moor. As the child fell asleep, the necromancer waved his hand and summoned out of the dirt and stones a golem. He gently placed the sleeping boy into the golem's arms, and muttering some arcane words from a scroll he unrolled from his belt, opened a portal. Together, they walked into the swirling rift of dark blue energies, and disappeared, leaving no trace of their ever being there.
A sound, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from outside the house, and entered through the broken door. The boy cowered under a nearby blanket, as several lighter footsteps were heard, seeming to run towards the source of the first.
"Raahzagal! Grrrashkal!"
"Time to die, dark creatures!"
Spears of blueish light zoomed by the open doorway, making wooshing sounds as they flew. Several, high pitched demonic screams were heard, as the sound of several small bodies hit the ground. The child, unable to cry out or whimper, wept slient tears as he waited for whatever monster that killed the imps to come into the house for him.
Lighting flashed, as the tall, lean figure entered the doorway. As this person walked into the house, his armor and boots made heavy metallic rustling sounds. The boy peered out from his hiding space, making sure he was unseen. The figure, a man, wore mysterious black armor, covered in some white metal carved in the shapes of bone. His shield looked to be made of bone, and in his hand was a shining dirk, a thin stream of dark green poisonous liquid streaming down the blade. He wore a great helm that covered his face, with horns that seemed to belong to a great demon jutting out of the sides of his armor. He walked slowly, in an eerie calm fashion.
"Sad. These people have already been slained by the fallen. I've arrived too late." The necromancer kneeled down beside the corpse of the boy's father, and reached into his suit. He pulled out a vial of clear liqud, holy water, and then removed his helm. His face did not look like most necromancers', stern and paled with hours spent studying dark magics. Rather, he seemed to have the appearance of a kindly grandfather as he uncorked the vial, and poured half it's contents onto the corpse. He then lowered his head, and began to utter a prayer.
Had a paladin, or any other student of the Zakarum witnessed this, they would have been in shock. Here, a dark mage of the undead, was performing an extremely holy act upon a corpse. After performing the same ritual on the boy's dead mother, he reached for his helm, only to see the frightened child.
"Hello there, little one." Putting his dagger on the ground gently, he reached for the boy. "Come now, I mean you no harm. Everything will be fine."
As the elderly mage crept closer, the child moved away from him, uncertain of his intentions. He looked into the necromancer's eyes, and sensed something other than the outward gothic appearance of the man. Something told the boy that he could trust this person, this old man who was extending a hand towards him. Slowly, he got out from under his blanket and let the old man help him up.
"The bad things killed mum and dad." The mage looked at the small child with sad, understanding eyes. The little one seemed to be in shock, so much so that he was beginning to yawn and get tired. He didn't quite comprehend the entire situation at the moment.
"I know. The bad things are gone now. We'll take care of you." He picked up the lad, and walked out into the moon lit moor. As the child fell asleep, the necromancer waved his hand and summoned out of the dirt and stones a golem. He gently placed the sleeping boy into the golem's arms, and muttering some arcane words from a scroll he unrolled from his belt, opened a portal. Together, they walked into the swirling rift of dark blue energies, and disappeared, leaving no trace of their ever being there.
