I learned today that necromancers keep diaries, and that stupid people steal them.
As such I have attempted to create my own language and write my own diary – I shall name my language “Mortèlaiis” named so for its elusive qualities.
This group is weird. They are sneaky. I do not trust them.
We have been tasked with various missions, petty jobs created to showcase our talents. I don’t trust the army – I am here only to discover what I can learn from them and then I plan on leaving.
I met an interesting man today, he had been held captive by the government for 400 years. He claimed to come from Hyperborea. I’m not sure his story is the full story, but I sympathise with him, the atrocities that took place in Hyperborea are immeasurable, to then be arrested for a simple act of revenge…
His advice however for new necromancers “Live by a graveyard” seemed vague. I’m sure he could make a great mentor, if he noticed I existed.
I’m struggling more with the bloodlust. I used to drink before because I thought being a full undead would enable me to be better at my job as a necromancer, but then I realised I’d need to lose my soul. I can’t do that. If I ever meet the strange man again I may ask him for advice on how to be a soulful undead.
We also liberated a dwarf from the tunnels. I felt for this man, he had been imprisoned, fighting for his life, for 6 years. He was basically trapped in his own grave. I get that, I often feel that way about my own form, that I am trapped, never truly of this world – or the next.
I decided to overcome my addiction by aiding the poor man, so whilst the group was getting drunk I went for a walk, thinking of ways I could help the homeless man. I came across a little shop in an alley up for sale and decided to get it for him, I have no need for money and wealth does not interest me.
I returned to the pub, the owner of the shop and collected the man. He looked so lost, I could tell he didn’t trust our group, he could barely see in the evening light. I remembered that from growing up, I used to be blindfolded on brighter nights and work through sheerer fabrics until I built a tolerance to even daylight (although it still can give me a headache) He was so pathetic. It tempted me for a while, but I decided to stay strong. I need to speak to someone soon to get some help. I keep feeling vacant. It’s like I haven’t eaten in a year, no matter what food I eat I feel empty.
I stayed strong though and he was so grateful for the shop. I feel like doing good deeds externally makes up for the inner turmoil and the violent thoughts within my own head.
When we returned later he had opened a really nice crossbow shop and I was able to purchase a nice heavy reloading one. It’s a lot bigger than I would normally choose, but until I become fully efficient with my necromantic spells I must utilise other means to be successful at my missions.
Our second mission has been a massive failure. I don’t know why they didn’t send more experienced people! It was supposed to be a simple recon, so we got to the place we had to go to and then we found the source of the strange magic. Upon trying to retrieve it we discovered that the “item” was not so much an “item” that could be moved as it was a contained portal. The “item” we moved was the cage designed to contain the force. Moving the cage resulted in unleashing the force. I know that the wizard collapsed again as he attempted to research the item, we should have thought of that as a serious issue, but then again, he collapses on a daily basis…
Once we realised what we’d done everyone panicked. Stupid mortals. They were so flustered that they collapsed the castle, forever destroying any necromantic knowledge I could have taken. This also slowed down our process. I’d been able to get a message to our commander requesting a more powerful wizard come and reseal the hole in space, but to get there we had to have an army of men move the rubble. We could have gotten there sooner if we’d simply walked. I felt so bad for our parties actions and for the manual labour the wizards had to do, so I made them coffees to ease their anger. Serving humans is something I never do, but in this instance it seemed necessary. When I’m a real necromancer I’ll have the ancestors of humans serving me, so it seemed poetic.
However as we were nearing the area I saw a lot of guards running away. My colleagues decided to join them. This left me and the wizard, our two least competent fighters to face the man in strange armour. The Wizard did the craziest thing, he cast a spell and started running away, but then he returned a second later having achieved nothing. The Armoured man told me that he had come through the portal, but not from where, or why. He seemed creepier than what I’m used to, even though I have socialised frequently with “bad crowds”.
Further investigation showed that the priests were dead. As were around 40 soldiers. There was something moving in their heads however, and when I tried to decompose the corpse (what, I need to practice!) they would not decompose. This stank of some sort of weird golem/necromancy where they have used a fresher than fresh corpse, that is still technically alive and is becoming host to something. I panicked. The most sensible thing I could think to do was to behead and de-arm the corpses so that they were the least useful to an army as they could be. The strange man had claimed that many more were to come.
I spoke again with the governor and he issued the command to evacuate the world and then cleanse it to quell the infestation.
I don’t trust him, but now we are travelling, refugees once again.
That poor dwarf….