Book of The Dead

Tyron stared at his new minions. The skeletons stared back at him. He frowned. There was something… different about them. He could feel it, but not identify it, like a word tingling on the tip of the tongue. He didn’t think it was due to their appearance, all skeletons differed from each other, simply due to human physiology.

He also couldn’t find anything unusual about the way the magick moved between him and them, either. As far as he could tell, it functioned exactly as it always had. The new minions were drawing noticeably less than his old ones had, but that was simply due to his improvement over time.

There was something else, and he couldn’t work out what it was, and that was driving him slightly mad.

“Stop staring at them so hard,” Dove advised him, “I can’t tell if you're trying to solve a complex magickal problem or you’re just horny. I know we’re pretty remote, but you can do better than the undead, man. There has to be a deer or sheep or something around here.”

“Shut up, Dove,” Tyron grunted irritably before he sighed and shook his head. “I give up,” he declared. “I’ve tried everything I can think of, but I can’t figure it out. It’ll have to wait until I’ve got more time to find a solution.”

“That’s likely to be never, kid. Once you advance your class, you’re going to be doubly illegal in the eyes of the Magisters. Not only an illegal class, but an unregistered bronze rank. And since you’re a mage, they would definitely refuse to let you advance without getting marked.”

Dove sounded a little sour as he mentioned the brand that every Slayer bore. More than a little.

“If everyone hates the brand so much, how do they keep getting away with it?” Tyron asked. “Slayers aren’t exactly easy people to control, after all.”

“Which is exactly why they go to these lengths to control them. A single mage with a level in the eighties could probably level a city with the high tier magick they have access to. A swordsman like your father can cut through a million ordinary people in a day. Without the brand ensuring a level of compliance, there would be chaos. At least, that’s what they’ll tell you.”

“Fuck. At any rate, at this point, they have so many big dick Slayers branded that not doing it is basically a death sentence. All of the most powerful people in the empire have it, and they don’t particularly want to spend the rest of their lives in perpetual agony, so they will cut your fucking head off if asked. Unless you can get yourself all the way to the upper levels without being detected, you’re shit out of luck. Want to rank up? Get the mark. End of discussion.”

Tyron absorbed this in silence. It made sense, in a cruel way. No other group was subjected to the same level of brutal control as the Slayers. In return, they were lionised, hero-worshipped by the people across the empire and richly rewarded, but for many, it surely wasn’t worth it. His own parents were so fiercely protective of their freedom and independence, he simply couldn’t understand why they would allow themselves to be controlled in this way. It went against everything he knew of them.

“If it’s so bad, then why do so many people do it? Rogil and your team were pushing to promote out of silver, which meant even tighter restrictions on yourselves. How many Slayers turn their back on advancement and stay as they are?”

“Not many,” Dove replied, sounding bitter.

Silence fell between the Necromancer and the skull for a moment as Dove organised his thoughts.

“A few do,” he said, “usually at level thirty-nine or fifty-nine, they put their hands up and call it a day, never calling on the status ritual again and living out their lives without advancing to the next step. They stay at silver or gold, content with their lot and then die. But not many can do that. There are all sorts of chains that can bind a person, Tyron, all sorts of ways we can be made a slave. You know Magnin and Beory didn’t want to take the brand, but they still did. Why?”

Tyron shook his head.

“There’s a thousand-thousand ways to bind someone,” the skull repeated. “Money, family, obligation, law, heritage, force. By taking the brand, your parents were able to make themselves so powerful that the brand itself was the only thing that bound them. No-one could tell them where to go, what to do, nobody could buy them off, threaten their wellbeing, except through the mark. They were able to free themselves of all but one chain. Not a bad trade off, when you think about the alternative.”

The young mage thought back to survivors on the farm, those women and children, powerless to defend themselves, with no say in whether they would live or die.

“Even one chain would have been too many for them,” he said, “but in the end, they bound themselves with two. They had me as well.”

“That may be true to an extent as well,” Dove chuckled, “but at least that’s one that they took on of their own free will.”

There is nothing that binds me, he realised. Only my family.

“Why did you want to advance?” he asked his mentor after a pause. “You didn't want to stop, you weren’t happy to stay still. If you hate the Magisters so much, why were you willing to let them have a tighter grip on you?”

Those bare teeth seemed to grin evilly at him as the light flared inside the skull.

“You’re about to find out, kid. Stop fucking around and get on with it already.”

Tyron froze for a moment before he smiled wryly. He’d been delaying, it was true. He was so nervous about this that he was looking for ways to put it off.

“That obvious?”

“Everyone’s shit scared the first time. Especially in your case. I know some people who spend six months to a year making sure they have everything perfect before taking the leap, and I think you would too if you had the time. But you don’t, so stop being such a wimp and fucking get it done.”

“Fine. Fine!”

He blew out a lungful of air before he pushed himself to his feet. He had to be careful moving around inside the cave, the low ceiling was a feature he was getting particularly tired of.

It’d taken them three days to find this place, and they needed Yor’s help to boot. The Vampire had an uncanny ability to find little nooks and crannies that the sun would never touch. A necessary survival mechanism, considering what she was. They were higher in the foothills than they’d been before, a couple of hours away from a small hamlet that they had yet to visit.

Remote, isolated, hidden. Perfect for a fledgling Necromancer wanting to work on his last set of minions and advance. Tyron had gone all-in on those bones. He’d picked over them with relentless focus during the entire journey, finding any weakness or impurity he could detect and purging it with extreme care. The saturation of Death magick had been monitored on an almost hourly basis and studied in minute detail. Everything he could think of that might have a positive effect on the resulting minion, he’d done twice over. The stitching on most of the minions had been done multiple times, despite the tight time-frames he’d worked in.

The casting of the ritual felt like the culmination of his magnum opus. He’d spent days working with Dove on the final version of the Raise Dead ritual. Entire sections had been rebuilt from the ground up, cutting and changing the form of the magick to produce a more efficient, robust version that he was inordinately proud of. A more experienced Necromancer, if one existed, would probably laugh at his flimsy attempt to improve and develop the magick, but with the limited knowledge and resources he had, Tyron felt confident it was the best he could do.

The final set of minions, enough to bring his army back to a full twenty, were far and away the best he’d ever produced. Their movement was smoother, quicker and more cost-efficient, their minds were sharper and the conduit that transferred his magick to them was as tight as a drum and half as leaky.

He hoped it would be enough.

Heart pounding in his chest, he rummaged in his pack until he was able to find his spare book and ripped free a page. Paper in hand, he found a comfortable spot on the floor, and prepared himself.

“Here we go,” he muttered.

“How exciting,” Yor whispered into his ear.

“Blood and bone!” Tyron jumped a foot in the air before collapsing back down, clutching at his chest. “You almost killed me, Yor… what was that for?”

“You must allow me my amusements, given our remote and destitute location,” she said, red eyes dancing. “But I apologise for delaying the moment, I simply wanted to be here to witness the occasion.”

“Still didn’t have to scare me,” Tyron grumbled, and the vampire reached down to stroke his hair.

“Come now, the ritual,” she reminded him and Tyron focused on the paper before him.

Some of the tension had drained out of him, but he still felt the blood pounding in his head as he nicked his thumb on his knife, placed his hand on the page and incanted the words. Immediately, the blood began to drain from the small wound on his hand and spread across the page, forming words that would change his life from that moment onward.

Scarce able to breathe, he blinked rapidly and leant forward to read.

Events:

You have forged bonds and connections with others. Race: Human has reached level 14.

Your attempts at cooking have increased proficiency. Cooking has reached level 3.

Dismembering remains has increased your proficiency. Butchery has reached level 5 (Max).

Intense study and application has increased your proficiency. Corpse Appraisal has reached level 10.

Intense study and application has increased your proficiency. Corpse Preparation has reached level 10.

Your use of Repository has increased proficiency.

Your creation of new undead and your manipulation of the spellform has increased proficiency. Raise Dead has reached level 10.

Your use of the spell Bone Stitching has increased proficiency. Bone Stitching has reached level 10.

Your use of Bone Mending has increased proficiency. Bone Mending has reached level 5.

Your use and study of Death Magick has increased your proficiency. Death Magick has reached level 8.

Your use of Death Blades has increased your proficiency. Death Blades has reached level 5.

Your use of Fear has increased your proficiency. Fear has reached level 3.

Your use of Magick Bolt has increased proficiency. Magick Bolt has reached level 5 (Max).

You have used a sword in battle. Swordsmanship has reached level 2.

Your use of the Shivering Curse has increased your proficiency. Shivering Curse has reached level 6.

Your use of the ritual, Commune with Spirits, has increased your proficiency. Commune with Spirits has reached level 4.

You have used Bone Armour to defend yourself from harm. Bone Armour has reached level 3.

You have experienced the world through the eyes of your minions. Minion Sight has reached level 4.

You have raised minions and they have fought on your behalf. Necromancer has reached level 20. You have received +6 Intelligence, +3 Wisdom, +3 Constitution and +3 Manipulation.

Your patrons are most amused by your struggling. They continue to watch you, and each other, with eager eyes…

Name: Tyron Steelarm.

Age: 18

Race: Human (Level 14)

Class:

Necromancer (Level 20).

Sub-Classes:

• Anathema (Level 10).
• None
• None (Locked)

Racial Feats:

Level 5: Steady Hand.

Level 10: Night Owl.

Attributes:

Strength:

12

Dexterity:

11

Constitution:

52

Intelligence:

75

Wisdom:

37

Willpower:

36

Charisma:

16

Manipulation:

29

Poise:

13

General Skills:

Arithmetic (Level 5)(Max)

Handwriting (Level 5)(Max)

Concentration (Level 5)(Max)

Cooking (Level 3)

Sling (Level 3)

Swordsmanship (Level 2)

Sneak (Level 3)

Butchery (Level 5)(Max)

Skill Selections Available: 3

Necromancer Skills:

Corpse Appraisal (Level 10)(Max)

Corpse Preparation (Level 10)(Max)

Death Magick (Level 8)

Bone Mending (Level 5)

General Spells:

Globe of Light (Level 5)(Max)

Sleep (Level 5)(Max)

Magick Bolt (Level 5)(Max)

Necromancer Spells:

Raise Dead (Level 10)(Max)

Bone Stitching (Level 10)(Max)

Commune with Spirits (Level 4)

Shivering Curse (Level 6)

Death Blades (Level 5)

Bone Armour (Level 3)

Minion Sight (Level 4)

Anathema Spells:

Pierce the Veil (Level 4)

Appeal to the Court (Level 2)

Dark Communion (Level 1)

Suppress Mind (Level 4)

Repository (Level 2)

Fear (Level 3)

Necromancer Feats:

Skeleton Focus II

Magick Battery I

Anathema Feats:

Repository

Wall of Thought I

Mysteries:

Spell Shaping (Initial): INT +3 WIS +3

Words of Power (Initial): WIS +3 CHA +3

Necromancer Level 20: Choose two from Skills or Spells:

Spells:

Shorten Raise Dead - A modified version of Raise Dead that is quicker to cast.

Bewildering Curse - Disorient and confuse those affected.

Flesh Mending - Repair dead flesh.

Death Bolt - Improve Magick Bolt to utilise Death Magick.

Cloud of Death - Create a cloud of Death Magick that will invigorate and heal your minions slowly over time.

Skills:

Flesh Crafting - Mould flesh as clay.

Empower Servant - Feed mana to your minions.

Undead Control - Better control of minions.

Flesh Joining - Connect multiple bodies together.

Minion Commander - Better coordination of many minions.

Ghost Speech - Better able to interact with spirits.

Spirit Finding - A sense of where to find baleful dead.

Necromancer Level 20: Choose a Feat from the following:

Low Light Vision - Increase the ability to see in poor light conditions.

Death Sense - Sense the presence of nearby death magick.

Grave Cloak - Hide more easily in dark environments.

Magick Battery II - Increase the natural capacity for Magick.

Skilled I - Choose two General Skills to increase the maximum level from five to ten.

Class Focus I - Choose an additional Necromancer Spell or Skill.

Efficient Minions I - Allow your minions to require less Magick to move.

Death Eater - Consume Death Magick.

Zombie Focus I - Improve the quality of Raised Zombies.

Tyron pumped a fist in triumph. He’d done it! Not only had he been able to max Corpse Preparation and Appraisal, he’d also pushed Bone Stitching and Raise Dead to the maximum as well. His final push had paid dividends after all.

The surge of glee was immediately followed by a faint aftertaste of bitterness. Had he been free to experiment and take his time, he had no doubt he would have been able to raise Death Magick to level 10, along with other ancillary skills and spells that may have opened up interesting options.

Have to be satisfied with what I have. I’ve done far better than expected given the circumstances. Celebrate!

And he had. He’d managed to master each of the core skills to the fullest extent possible in his initial class. This was the minimum benchmark to achieve a decent progression, and he’d done it.

“How’d it go, kid?” Dove asked, his voice tense.

“I got it,” the Necromancer confirmed.

“Fuck, yes! Nice going kid!”

“Congratulations,” Yor said.

“Alright, sort out your level twenty shit, and then we can get to the real deal.”

He nodded and turned back to the page. There were a few new options to go over, he had to pick a feat and two new ability selections. This would be his last opportunity to pick new Spells and Skills from the base Necromancer class, anything he let go here he may never see again, so he had to be careful.

There were several new options, as well as old ones that were of interest to Tyron. First he turned his attention to the new entries. He gained two new selections at level eighteen, and another two at level twenty. These four were Cloud of Death, Minion Commander, Ghost Speech and Spirit Finding. It was interesting that right at the end he would be offered two new spirit related Skills. He felt that if he chose these he might be offered a spirit focused advancement, but he wasn’t that tempted.

Cloud of Death was interesting, though he feared it may prove too energy intensive. Creating any sort of ambient field of magick would doubtless be a huge drain on his reserves.

Am I ever going to be offered something cheap?

Likely not….

It might well be worth taking the spell now, in the hopes that he would be able to someday remedy his magick economy, but that could be risky. Tyron would be better served by something that would pay off now, and provide further dividends in the future.

Minion Commander appealed to Tyron for this reason. The core of the Necromancer class was the minions, and he knew he should do everything he could to improve and empower them. He’d had many discussions with Dove on the subject of staying true to the core of his vocation. Trying to turn himself into a pseudo-mage, with as many flashy spells as possible, would only make him a crap mage, and a mediocre Necromancer.

Anything that directly related to improving his undead was a solid choice in his eyes. For a change, the skill seemed relatively self-explanatory. Mentally directing the skeletons was an imprecise art, and any assistance he could gain from the Unseen would be welcome. Undead Control spoke to the same need. If being better able to control large numbers of minions would be good, then so would being able to better direct smaller groups, especially if he became able to create more complicated and potent servants. Being able to extract every drop of power from such creations would be crucial to his success.

He confidently placed a thumb mark next to Minion Commander and Undead Control, and moved on to his Feat.

He’d basically already decided he was going to choose Magick Battery II. The only thing that might have dissuaded him from that choice would have been another Skeleton Mastery feat appearing, but none did. It was clear going forward that his spells would require huge reserves of magick. His Intelligence continued to rise far above his other attributes, and along with it his capacity, but more was more.

It was likely he would never be able to have enough.

He confidently placed another thumbprint next to Magick Battery II and carefully checked his choices. Satisfied, he nodded to himself and then ended the ritual.

He felt the changes begin to take place, the power and knowledge flowing into him as they always did when the ritual came to a close, except this time, something was different. The ritual didn’t end; instead, the page pulsed.

Tyron shook off the malaise that gripped him as a result of the Unseen’s hand. He had more to do. He leaned forward and placed his hand on the page once more. Again, the blood was pulled from his veins and onto the page as more words took shape. When it was done, he swallowed thickly and leaned forward to read.

“Come on kid, what have we got?” Dove demanded.

Necromancer has reached level 20.

Select a Class Advancement from the following:

Necro-Acolyte: Delve deeper in the mysteries of the Necromancer.

“That’s the generic nonsense you always get,” Dove said dismissively. We should be able to get something more specialised.”

Skeleton Master: An expert of bone-based Undead.

“Like that,” Dove noted with satisfaction. “This will likely give you access to more powerful varieties of skeletons, and perhaps give you those juicy Skeleton Master III and even IV as well.”

Necromancer Spirit-Tuner: One who invites the spirits and commands them.

Tyron frowned. He didn’t think he’d be offered anything spirit related.

“Probably just because your Commune with Spirits spell reached a certain level. It sounds interesting, but holy shit these descriptions are garbage. It’s like this for every Class, but they usually have the benefit of drawing on years of documentation. You, on the other hand, are running blind.”

Undead Weaver:An expert in the creation of minions.

“Oho,” Dove noted with interest. “I think this is the one you’ve been offered for mastering the basic Skills. These sorts of Classes usually focus on improved fundamentals.”

Horde Initiate: A Master of larger gatherings of Undead.

“My guess is you were offered this one due to having a certain number of minions under your command at once. Pretty obvious this is a quantity over quality direction.”

Which wasn’t what Tyron was interested in. He wanted the best minions possible, and then to try and find other ways to increase the number he could maintain.

Dark Ritualist: One who delves into hidden magicks.

“I’d say this is just from having access to several rituals with sufficient levels,” Dove surmised. “Another sideways advancement.”

Anything that depended on the levels he gained in Anathema rituals wasn’t something Tyron wanted to pursue.

“Well then. What do you think you want to pick?”

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