I started off with that little tidbit because that was all I had written. I was going to wait until I at least finished chapter 1 to post the next part, but here is the rest of what I have so far.
A slight man dressed in indistinct gray sat in the corner of the city park, pouring over a thick book. The townsfolk gave him a wide birth, for they were instinctively distrustful of magic in general, especially the dark magic of necromancy. They tolerated him however, because he wasn't currently trying to kill them, and the demons were. It was that simple. 20 years ago, necromancers were prosecuted by the Bane, a government-sanctioned organization of hunters that located and arrested the Empire's undesirables, such as deserters, crime lords and occasionally rogue mages. For understandable reasons, people had an aversion to seeing dearly loved Aunt Beth walking around after they buried her last week, especially when it was known that animating their corpse temporarily prevented their soul from resting in the afterlife. When the demons invaded however, people suddenly became a lot more accepting of them, given that these necromancers were able to raise large armies to fight against the demons, armies that like the demons, didn't grow hungry or tired.
These undead armies bought time, but they didn't do much else, for the supply of skeletons and zombies to fight against the demons was limited by the number of dead humans, while the number of demons to fight was limited by... well, nobody really knows. It must be something, for demons still come through the gates of Hell, but in smaller numbers than they used to. The invasion has slowed, but it is still progressing. Priests have found a way to stop the corrupted land from blighting their fields, but fertile lands to grow food is still rare. In short, life is somewhat better, but things still look grim for humanity... especially when several hundred demons have gathered to the north, while the city guard only consists of 80 men. It is this precise reason why humans still tolerated magic use such as necromancy these days, since these shunned magic users do buy humanity time... and maybe time is all that they need. Then again, isn't that what the essence of necromancy is, a way to cheat death, and this time itself?
The man pondered these very thoughts as he paged through the tome in his hands. He has acquired the book several days ago, on his journey north to Almar's Keep, were he currently resided. The keep, or more of a fortress really, is the last bastion of hope for the smaller settlements to the south. Previously built to guard the mountain passes near the Empire's southern holdings from insurgents hiding in the mountains. The fortress now served a the opposite, instead guarding the refugees hiding in the mountain caverns from the demons streaming out of the north. Typical. Humans that run and hide instead of trying to make a stand for their very lives. Is it any wonder humanity has come to this? Ah well. The demons want to kill me as much as they want to kill those refugees, so I might as well ally myself with them.
Suddenly, an explosion rang out, causing the man to suddenly look up. Over by the apothecary, a young alchemist apparently messed up a potion he was working on, and the result... well, lets just say the youth no longer had to worry about washing his dirty hair - it has been burned off his head. The alchemist was apologetically bowing to the shopkeeper, apparently in some sort of trouble. The necromancer wandered over to the scene.
“What on earth were you thinking anyway? Why would you put root ash in a healing potion?!?”
“I'm sorry, I mean, it wasn't – I just thought – if we could make a weapon against the demons– ”
“Weapon? Weapon?!? We need healing for our soldiers, not bombs to blow them up!”
“Hey now, give the kid a break” the necromancer told the shopkeep, who suddenly looked up.
“He nearly blew up my shop!” the merchant angrily replied.
“Yeah, but at least he was trying to do something that could fight against the demons. You're not even a healer, or even a soldier!”
The merchant paled. “So what?!? I'm providing a critical servic-”
“Yeah, the only critical service we need at the moment is people who can kill demons. Or didn't you notice the two hundred of them north of the city walls, preparing to attack us?”
“I- I, erm... Well... Uhh...” The merchant stuttered, seeming to have no reply to this.
“That is what I thought. Come on, now” the necromancer said to the kid, walking him back over to the park. “What is your name, anyhow?”
“Aarchan” the kid replied. “I- I'm kind of new at this, so...”
“Hey, don't be shy. We all have to start somewhere. Can't learn if you don't try, am I right?” the necromancer consoled him. “The name is Nirur. Don't mind these townfolk, they couldn't save themselves if their lives depended on it, which they do. Despite that, they seem perfectly apt at bullying those who don't fit in. That's why us magic users have to stick together.”
The boy's face brightened. “You're a mage?”
“Ah, well yes. An adept. I haven't found a master wizard to teach me, so I've been reading books here and there, picking up stuff. Sort of a dabbler I suppose, like you.”
“I can't cast spells though” Aarchan replied. “I can only mix potions, and stuff like that.”
“Well that's still important, hey? You can do useful stuff with those things.”
“Yeah, I guess...”
Suddenly, a loud gong reverberated through the town. It repeated once, then twice. Three rings. The signal for an attack
“Hurry, the demons are attacking!”
The two adepts rushed towards the city walls, were the soldiers let them through to see the approaching army.
“Gods above...” muttered Aarchan, as he gazed out over the lands. The camp to the north was emptying out as several hundred demons marched upon the city. It looked like an ocean of darkness, as the demons surged towards the city. There were no divisions, so organization, no rank and file at all. The demons simply surged forward in a massive frenzy, pushing and shoving, even trampling there own kin as they races to gain the city gates. The guard's archers raised their bows and fired a volley of arrows into their midst; many demons fell, but many more kept coming. As the archers prepared for another volley, more activity burst on the walls; One man summoned a wind elemental from another realm to help fight against the demons, while another has magic cracking at his fingertips as he leaned over the wall, preparing to fire magical energy at the demons.
Suddenly Nirur leaned over the battlements and threw up.
“Ugh! What was that?” Aarchan exclaimed.
“The... the demons... they have spikes, and fangs, and blood-caked talons... and blood... *URHG*”
“But... you're a necromancer. Shouldn't you be used to that stuff?”
“Shut up!”
“I mean, you can't use necromancy without dead bodies, so”
“I said shut up! Besides, there are worse things than getting slightly woozy at the sign of blood like... Erm... stupidity...”
Nirur said this as he watched a lone fighter charge out to meet the demon horde. The man was dressed in traditional dueling armor, wielding a slender sword and wearing a silly fedora hat with a large red feather.
“Come and get me, demon scum!” the man yelled as the horde approached, howling with bloodlust. Then the horde was upon him.
“In his defense, that guy took down two... no, three demons before the horde completely overwhelmed him.” Aarchan mused.
“No time for that, we have demons to kill!”
I'm probably not going to post the whole thing on here, because that would take up a lot of space and if I do end up completing this one, I would rather like to get it published, and publishers don't like spending money publishing something that is 100% free online. I can post excepts here and there, though.
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Topic: Arcanum Octet II: Forbidden Lore [Turn 81] (Read 231074 times)