Sit down, and I shall tell you a story.
There was once a foolish adventurer, who thought that he could one day be the champion of darkness for his world, protecting the innocent with his dark and terrible magics. So, his first step was to gain immortality through Vampirism. With his companions, he quickly located and tracked down his prey. They did not know their leaders intentions, but when their back was turned their leader drank the unholy blood of the creature. It was like fruit punch, only it left you feeling numb and clammy. Still, he was a vampire.
For a while, he thought to also become a were-creature as well. He ultimately failed at this, but life goes on.
Dropping this fool's errand, he decided that being a Vampire was quite enough for his taste. He filled his days with quests hunting other creatures of the night, becoming a quintissential Daywalker, the bane of all evil. At least, until one fateful night.
It was dark, very dark indeed that twilight hour. He and his companions were travelling southward across the plains by the mountains to the north. A frigid and ill-tided wind was blowing from the tundra to the south. The night, being black and cold, was treacherous indeed. So he decided to take the night watch and let his men rest, being unable to rest due to his “condition”.
Suddenly, he heard a rustling noise from the north. The adventurer’s ears perked and his skin tingled with anticipation. He called out to his men, but it was too late. It was an ambush!
Kobolds leapt from the darkness, firing arrows with dark precision. Our brave hero unsheathed his war hammer, and began smashing their heads as if they were watermelons. Each swing was met with the blissful sound of Kobolds flying through the air, dead before they even hit the ground. But they kept coming.
Many of these Kobolds were very well near unarmed. They all brandished a single dagger, the usual fair. But the lack of real soldiers was unnerving. Then it hit our dear hero like a rock.
He had camped near a Kobold Cave. Knowing he would be outnumbered, he beat the drums of retreat. This was too late however. His allies were strewn across the field, cut open by the knives and arrows of the Kobolds. Only our dear hero and a trusty archer as his sidekick remained. When they were far enough away from the caves, they finally killed the last of the Kobolds that had pursued them. They were safe.
For now. A man full of foolish greed, our dear adventurer had not yet seen his fill of action. Where there are Kobolds, there is treasure. And treasure always gleams brightly. He and his companion went back to the cave. Then, out of nowhere, woe! His companion and himself were quickly spotted. The archer, a bold and brave human fought them off with sheer courage, eventually resorting to using his bow as a blunt object. Still they came. Still.
When it was all over, the Kobolds had succeeded in driving our hero back. This time however, they extracted a heavy toll on his heart. His last companion was dead. As the sun rose, he shed many dwarfly tears over what had happened. His beard was saturated by the rain that fell from his eyes. His heart turned to ice. The Kobolds must all die. Vengeance was his right.
He turned his face south towards the great glaciers that can be found there. Nestled between the crags of ice, there was a tower. It was here he would learn the secrets of revenge.
His journey was cold, but uneventful. The air was frighteningly chilled, but he felt nothing of it. Onward, ever onwards he strove till the tower did he reach. With a mighty kick, he entered the tower.
Zombies stood blocking the door way, but they did not disturb our dear adventurer due to his curse. In the eyes of the world, he was already a dead man. The necromancers who lived there however, were not so happy. They fought back with their steely knives, but they were unequipped to handle a vampiric warrior. With few might strokes, our adventurer broke their spines and their skulls for opposing him, ending their reign of terror.
Their corpses were seen leaving with him as he left the tower that day. Striding across the plains of ice, he travelled north. When he returned the caves, he found the blasted Kobolds right were he left them. The archer’s body lay strewn on the ground, no doubt already stripped of what little worth was left to be taken. The dark hero was enraged.
With a gesture of doom, his fallen ally rose up. In another rapid gesture, the bodies of the fallen Kobolds were also raised. With hands outstretched, they were all too ready to embrace their friends with deathly hands. The bodies that had been slain earlier by our dear adventurer were now weapons.
The massacre that followed was a horrendous sight. Many Kobolds were slain that night, many at the hands of our dark hero himself. They defended their home nobly, but it was all for naught. Every time they killed one zombie, two would take its place. Their efforts were all in vain. By morning, the light of their tiny civilization had been snuffed.
The eyes of the necro-pire were black and still as he examined the carnage. Many had died for his revenge, but he would spend the rest of his life trying to redeem himself in the eyes of his fallen comrades. He perished a sad man, despite all the good he had done for the world.
Author
Topic: The greatest things you have done as a necromancer. (Read 3105 times)