Chapter B3C25 - Necromancer

Chapter B3C25 - Necromancer

“So how does it feel to have a legion of mindless slaves at your beck and call once more?” Dove asked.

Tyron blinked. He was tired. Very tired. Constantly emptying and refilling his magick to use the Annoint spell, as well as casting a long and complex piece of ritual magick twenty times, was draining, to say the least.

But he’d done it.

Almost a full day of constant spellwork. His mouth was as dry as a bone and his head pounded, but it was all worth it. He greedily gulped down water from the canteen he’d left on his bench and nibbled at the biscuits he’d brought down for the day.

Twenty skeletons stood to attention next to their slabs, totally motionless, the only sign of their unlife the flickering purple light in their eye sockets.

“Feels good,” Tyron said finally, almost gleaming with pride as he cast his eyes over the finest skeletons he had ever made.

“You aren’t supposed to admit you feel good having mindless slaves....”

Tyron snorted.

“You’re the guy who was desperate for me to enslave ghosts and create Reventants. Now I’m supposed to believe you’re all squeamish about ‘enslaved’ artificial minds.”

“Good point.”

The two skeletal hands on the bench danced about on their finger tips for a moment before they both pointed at the Necromancer.

“But you’re back at it finally. Making undead. Necromancing. Now you just need to work out if any of the insane shit you did was actually worth it. For the time and expense, these skeletons better be capable of punching holes in brick walls.”

“Unlikely.”

“Then it was a complete waste of time. Scrap the whole project, start again.”

“Also unlikely. How about you shut up for a minute and I’ll actually take a look at them? Then we can discuss if what I did was worth it.”

Putting Dove from his mind, Tyron stepped to the closest skeleton, eagerly rubbing his palms together. He could feel the connection between them, the conduit for magick to flow through, as well as the deeper bond that bound the skeleton to his will. Excitingly, the skeleton was drawing nothing from him, just standing there. The ambient magick it collected was enough to power it.

“The first thing I need to determine is the effectiveness of the Reservoir and the conduit work I’ve done,” he said, mostly to himself.

“And how are you going to do that?” Dove replied anyway.

“Slow and painful repetition.”

“The way of the Mage,” the former Summoner said approvingly. “Better get some paper ready. I sense measurements in your near future.”

Using the Mage Eye, it was possible to see the flow of energy in a general sort of way, but for Death Magick specifically, Tyron turned to his Lens. After drawing up some tables and settling himself on a comfortable chair, the experiments to determine the efficacy of his enchanting and conduit work began.

Walk to there, he ordered the skeleton with his mind.

It did so. He carefully peered through the lens, sensed the link inside him, scribbled something down.

Walk back to that spot, he ordered.

It did so. He carefully peered through the lens, sensed the link inside him and scribbled something down.

And so on, and so on.

“I can maintain hundreds, and I’m not even Silver ranked yet.”

“Yeah but yours are shit. They don’t sparkle with ethereal light.”

“True.”

It was a lot of work... but the reality was, Tyron had time on his side.

“I’ve got the leasure to slowly amass my strength right now,” he said. “I get twenty fresh corpses every month along with a shipment of bones. When I have a decent number of minions, well armed and maybe even armoured, then I can advance my Class and take my next steps from there.”

“Sounds like you’re getting a little complacent,” Dove warned him. “You think you’re so safe that nobody will find you. The powers that be around here have been in charge for a very, very long time, for a good reason. They don’t fuck around. The second one of the Divines notices you, you’ll be snuffed out like a candle.”

“You think a god is going to reach down from the clouds and smite me?” Tyron laughed.

“No. They’ll tell a noble or a priest and a gold ranked slayer will pull your face out of your arse ten minutes later. Don’t forget the Magisters. They monitor the city like fucking hawks. One whiff of Death Magick and they’ll come down on you like a lightning bolt.”

“I’d like to see them try,” Tyron snarled.

“No you fucking don’t,” Dove said. “Twenty bony boys isn’t going to protect you from them.”

He paused a moment.

“I’m just trying to warn you that you’re still on the clock, even if you think you aren’t. Every day that passes brings you closer to the inevitable moment of discovery.”

“Fine,” Tyron breathed out slowly. “Maybe I do need to be a little more purposeful with my research.”

He’d been investigating in so many directions. Perhaps it was time to narrow his focus.

“Well, for the time being, I need to learn how to make shields, swords and spears out of bones.”

“How in the shit are you going to do that?”

“Well, I can already mould bones into bows. I’ve been trying to replicate the technique to make other weapons.”

“Trying to grab Skills without having to purchase them? I like the way you think. Let’s see what you’ve managed so far.”

Tyron brought out one of his attempted swords and held it in front of the skull to inspect. Dove studied it carefully.

“This is... terrible.”

“I know.”

“It’s supposed to have an edge. I’m no blademaster, but I’m sure that swords have an edge. You know... for cutting.”

“I can’t get the bone to compress properly,” Tyron explained, exasperated. “You can’t make a sword out of just normal bone, the material isn’t strong enough, it’d shatter in an instant. It stands to reason you need to compress it somehow, but I haven’t been able to figure out the trick.”

“Same for a spear tip, I guess.”

“And for the outer face of a shield.”

“Well, explain to me how you’re trying it and I’ll see if I can think of something.”