Quick at your word, all skill, grace/He is, but for death his passion, flawless.

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Giggles erupted from the table. Seated around Baldric of Meron was a crowd of court ladies. They were all laughing. Some politely, some uncontrollably. One lady said, between laughs, "You are a ladies' man, my lord." Chimes of agreement rang from throughout the table. Baldric smiled, agreeing with the young lady, before turning his attention on someone else. And so it was every day… Baldric smiling, court ladies gossiping, spinsters disapproving.

However, the powerful, yet crudely trained mage was immersed in a different way of life. Necromancy. Save his mother, who had died young, none knew about it. On his mother's deathbed, he promised to stop with the tinkering of the Black God's domain. However, the pull to necromancy was strong, and before long, Baldric was fully immersed in the art.

One day, he went a little too far…

A/n: Excuse the crap. I'm waaaaaaaaaaaaaay too tired.