*Artwork by Shane Pierre

A party of five turned the corner and lit up the otherwise gloomy scene around them in red torchlight. The Duke’s soldiers patrolled the city streets to enforce the curfew and ensure the safety of the citizens as they retired to sleep. The men moved slowly, paying close attention to the houses and narrow alleyways as they passed them by.

But night watchmen they were not. It was not their duty to look for signs of break-in, but rather for those of escape. No one could be allowed to interfere with the Duke’s plans for this evening, least of all the Rotwald loyalists – were there any left.

“I hope they can take care of things up in the keep,” Brian said in a hushed voice to the grizzled Captain leading the patrol.

The youthful lad cast his worried gaze over the adjacent townhouses as their party passed them by. “It doesn’t feel right patrolling the streets with the militia manning the walls,” he said. “I don’t trust them.”

“I feel you,” the Captain replied, “But at least they are nowhere near the keep. Either way, we need sentries on those walls while we take care of our uninvited guests.

I just hope that it doesn’t come to bloodshed. There has been too much of that around here lately.”

One of the other soldiers voiced his concerns. “Maybe we should have rounded up the townsmen,” he said. “For all we know, they might already be in on it with that red priestess.”

“They fought alongside us,” the Captain pointed out, “We can’t just throw them into the dungeons for no reason. We are better than that.

Now, if I was you, I would be more concerned with the guests up in the castle.”

“You mean the knights from yesterday?” a soldier asked.

The Captain shook his head. “No, not them,” he said.

“Well, we all saw them fighting yesterday,” Brian pointed out. “I wouldn’t want to face them. At least there are only six of them with the priestess.”

“Didn’t look that tough, to be honest,” the Captain said. “Knights like him are a copper a dozen.

Now, the big guy at her side, though – he was something else.”

“You man the green guy?” Brian asked.

The Captain nodded. “Yeah, that guy! You know, the one with the... bear... fur... mantle?”

The Captain gave Brian a questioning look. “Did he wear one? I don’t really remember.”

“I think so, yeah,” Brian said. “Actually, I am not really sure either...”

As Brian tried to remember the details of their encounter with the priestess and her escorts, the youth felt his mind turn dizzy. He stopped and wiped his nose on his sleeve and found blood on it.

The Captain picked at his scruffy beard while trying to recall the encounter. “Strange… It feels like I am forgetting something,” he said. “Must be the exhaustion,” he shrugged.

“Yeah,” Brian added and wiped his nose on his sleeve a second time, “I am feeling the same thing. Did something happen along the way? I feel like there was something, but…”

“Nah,” the Captain shook his head, “I clearly remember escorted them from the gates to the keep without as much as a conversation. Wouldn't even look at me when I welcomed them into the city... What a bunch of pricks.

Anyway, I could swear there is giant’s blood running through that big guy’s veins. I would not want to face him on the field of battle, not for a king’s ransom, I wouldn’t.”

The Captain grinned. “The priestess sure keeps an intimidating entourage,” he said. “Must be a wealthy bitch too, from how the lot’ of them were dressed.”

“The knights all looked like they had broomsticks shoved up their asses, though!” one of the soldiers remarked jokingly. “I bet they are all second or third sons of some noble houses.” He spat on the ground. “Spoiled sacks of shit... You need a lot of money to get that kind of equipment.”

“And a lot of confidence to charge down a horde of the undead,” the Captain corrected him. “Never ever, ever underestimate a knight. They might seem like cocky bastards, but that’s because they are good. They have been drilled for combat since childhood.

How long have you been wielding a sword, huh?” He gave his men a hard look over to drive home his point. “If you want to see your sorry ass get strapped to a torture rack then feel free to disregard my next three points of advice. But if you want to live a long and happy life then do as I say.

One: don’t flirt with the ladies of the court, because you are less than dirt to them – only leads to trouble;

Two: don’t mess with the nobles. Yes, sir; no, sir; I am sorry, sir – is about all that they want to hear from you at any given time;

And three: don’t challenge knights, because they will destroy you.”

“But what if I can actually beat one?” one of the soldiers persisted.

“Then you will wish for a quick death! Didn’t you listen?” The captain punched the man on the shoulder. “Don’t make me say it again. It is not worth it to stick out in the eyes of the nobility like that. Favors with the nobles can get you ahead in life, but it still takes hard work and a fair bit of luck to make it up the food chain.

But if you give them a reason to dislike you… well, then you are screwed. Slip up once and it’s over.” The Captain drew his finger across his neck in a cutting motion.

The cocky soldier back off with a bitter look on his face. “Yeah, yeah… I get it, Captain. No touching the nobles.”

The Captain looked to Brian. “Do you feel like you could take on a knight?” he asked.

“No…” Brian admitted with some hesitation.

“Smart boy,” the Captain remarked and glanced back at the other soldiers. “Damn right, you couldn’t beat a knight in a fair fight.” He grinned, “But that’s why we won’t give them a fair fight tonight.

Besides, there is like, what – six of them in that woman’s party? Well, plus the Rotwald boy and the giant… But we have ten times that number lying in wait for them.

The moment the Duke gives the order our guests will be put to the sword.” He punched his mailed fists together. “No matter how good they are, we can’t lose this one. We survived an undead assault, for Highfather’s sake! Luck is very much on our side, lads.”

Brian smiled. “I guess you’re right,” he said. “I really shouldn’t be worried… it’s just that I have this– this bad feeling in my gut.”

The Captain reassured his young soldier with a strong pat on the back. “You’ll see,” he said. “Once this is all over and done with, we are going to celebrate like there is no tomorrow!

Besides, we all have a hefty payday to look forward to.”

“What do you mean?” Brian asked.

The three veteran soldiers waling behind him gave each other knowing looks.

“Are you daft, boy?” the Captain inquired in an upbeat voice. “We just fought through a siege! And once we help our Lord deal with that red bitch he is going to shower us in money! It will be the best payday of your life!”

The veteran soldiers behind them all nodded in agreement.

“I was promised a place in the house guard after this,” one of the soldiers revealed. “No more long marches for me! I already have a house in mind once we return home.” He laughed. “Gonna’ get me a wench to keep it nice and warm–”

“You lucky sod!” another one hassled him.

“Well, it ain’t all that great!” the third one barged in. “Getting to stand around all day babysittin’ the Duke’s family – where’s the fun in that? I’m much better off with my buddies down in the barracks playing cards and throwin’ dice. The sergeant ain’t got nothin’ on the undead! Just watch him try and disciplin’ me now!”

The men shared a laugh and carried on with their patrol.

After turning anther corner Brian noted a hint of concern in the Captain’s expression.

“What’s the matter?” he inquired.

“This place again…” the Captain said and raised his hand ordering a halt.

“What about it?” Brian asked.

The veteran soldiers behind him chuckled.

Brian shifted his torch around to examine the scene. There was nothing extraordinary about the quiet cobblestone street or the decrepit two story townhouses running alongside it. It looked just like the last one and there were probably more like it still ahead, yet it had given the Captain pause.

“You’ve never come here before?” the Captain inquired.

Brian shook his head. “No… Why?”

“Alright,” the Captain rubbed his eyes with a pained expression. “So this town doesn’t exactly have a brothel, per say…”

“Oh!” Brian exclaimed, “Right – I get it.”

“Are you a virgin, Brian?” one of the veteran soldiers inquired.

The Captain raised his hand before the vultures had had the chance to descend on the poor boy.

“It does not matter, lads. It does not matter.” He gave the veteran soldiers an angry look to showcase his seriousness. “They boy proved himself more than capable during the siege. He fought back the undead at the Temple, remember? Don’t be too harsh on him.”

He placed his hand on Brian’s shoulder. “When we get back home you will be cheered on as a hero. You helped put an end to the Rotwald schemes and held the city against the undead. I am sure that there are plenty of girls that would love to hear of your bravey.

Besides,” the Captain said and looked to the veteran soldiers, “We might just spread some stories about your incredible exploits! Right lads? Let’s help the guy get laid.”

The soldiers laughed, but the way they did it sounded frighteningly sinister to Brian, who was lost trying to come up with anything to say in his defense. He ultimately conceded the idea of trying to deny it and clenched his lips in anticipation for the taunting that was to come.

But the Captain’s authority was indisputable and the men refrained from badgering the young soldier about his lack of experience with the fairer sex.

“Come,” the Captain pushed his elbow into Brian’s side, “Let’s get on with the patrol. Once this is all over, I will see to it myself that your name is heard of in all the taverns of Feldhof. How does that sound to you?”

Brian nodded. “Thank you, I guess…”

Brian peered at the street ahead of them with his torch raised high. “But shouldn’t the working girls be out right now?”

The Captain’s expression showed concern. “I don’t like it,” he said. “We had an arrangement with the girls to stay out during the curfew. You know, because some of our men might want to come around. But I don’t see any lights on. Strange that.”

“Could it be that they know about the trap we have set for the guests?” one of the soldiers wondered out loud.

“They might be hiding because of it,” Brian added.

The Captain nodded. “Anyhow… we best make sure that nothing strange is afoot.”

He waved his hand at the nearest houses as he gave his men an order, “Ask around – find out if the townsfolk know anything.”

As the three veteran soldiers moved out, Brian remained at the Captain’s side.

“Is there something you needed?” the Captain asked.

“Yeah,” the boy answered and nodded at the nearby alleyway, “Do you mind if I take a leak while the others do the asking?”

“Sure,” the Captain said. “Just be quick about it. I don’t plan on staying here too long. The boys up in the castle might have a need for us after all.”

Brian left his commander out in the street and skipped into the nearest alleyway. As he placed his torch flat on the ground to free up his hands, the light that it gave dwindled. The shadows once more consume the narrow passage in between the buildings.

As he lifted his mail hauberk to undo the buttons on his pants a cold chill ran down the young soldier’s spine. He heard quiet whispers resonating through the alleyway for a moment before disappearing into the distance.

Frightened, Brian let go of the mail shirt and reached for the sword on his belt.

With one hand on the hilt he stumbled through the dusk to pick up the nearly extinguished torch. Brian raised it up above his head to illuminate the alleyway and saw…

–Nothing.

The passage ahead was empty, save for the mud and rubbish strewn across the cobblestone.

Brian stared into the darkness for a while longer. When nothing came of it, he reluctantly dismissed the noise as a figment of his own imagination and turned his attention to the more pressing issue of having to relieve himself.

He lowered the torch once more, but this time left it propped up against the wall of the building so that the light would not diminish too much.

He was about to raise his mail shirt for a second time when the whispers returned. And this time the voices were louder.

Brian could not make out the words, but he whispers churned and argued with one another over something, anything and nothing – all at once. The voices of women and men wavered back and forth from imminently present to distant.

The whispers seemed to be drawing closer to Brian. Closer... Closer still… Right next to his ear – and then behind his back. And then–

The voices ceased leaving behind a shroud of disheartening silence.

Brian was nervous, but curious. His nose was bleeding again, but he let it drip. A lone trail of blood trickled down his face and hung to his chin, ready to fall.

The narrow alleyway was overcome by a sudden wave of cold. A layer of frost advanced across the ground. It instantly snuffed out Brian’s torch as it crept up the walls of the buildings. Soon the entire passage was covered in a fine layer of ice.

The frost glistened in a brilliant white as the moonlight shimmered in the still forming veins of ice crystals as new layers formed over the old ones. A fine mist lingered in the surrounding air, formed by the sudden drop in temperature.

By now silent terror had taken a firm hold of Brian. Unable to move a muscle, he was left helplessly observing his own warm breath as it escaped his gaping mouth in clouds of steam.

No matter how hard he fought the invisible force binding him, he could not speak, he could not move and he could not look away from it. The darkness was calling to him, and the young soldier was powerless to resist it, no matter how hard he tried.

His desperate struggling ceased as Brian caught glimpse of a shadowy figure as it shifted in the darkness right in front of him.

Where there had been no one just a moment prior, now stood a human shape dressed in a long flowing robe.

Brian’s hand rattled the sword on his belt, but he was unable to muster the strength to draw it from the scabbard. Both his body and soul had succumbed to the overpowering will of the creature looming in the dark.

In this solemn, unnatural light of the iced over passage the robed figure raised its hand and pushed back the hood covering its head.

Brian finally relived himself as the cowl of the robe dropped to reveal the pearl white bones of an undead monstrosity.

“It will all be over soon,” the skeleton whispered a cold reassurance.

Brian’s gaze remained nailed to the monster before him as the layer of encroaching frost crawled its way across the boy’s face.

“Surrender or die,” Boniface said.

Aware of the soldier’s struggle, the necromancer slowly approached the frozen man. “I am going to release you now,” he said. “Please don’t–”

The moment that Brian felt the cold will of the abomination free its grip around him but a little, the boy drew his sword and swung it at the monster. Graceless and poorly aimed, the strike traveled true and caught the creature in the jaw, shattering teeth and bone.

Bone splinters fell from his face, as Boniface sought to straighten his head.

Wide eyed, Brian stood before the necromancer, once more unable to move.

Boniface picked at his ruined jaw to get a feel for the extent of damage that the soldier’s clumsy strike had cause him.

“As you wish,” Bones said and raised his hand.

Brian looked on in silent terror as the skeleton reached out his ivory white fingers and grabbed hold of his forehead. A low, pale green light enveloped the alleyway as the skin on the young soldier’s face shriveled up and peeled away in small gray flakes. His body rattled fiercely while his flesh withered and turned to dust.

The monster siphoned away his mortal form until nothing but a bone construct remained standing in place where a man had just been.

The green glow receded back into the monster’s hand. The alleyway was left shrouded in darkness once more, but for the grace of the moonlight cast down upon the layer of frost.

Two figures – two skeletons wearing the clothes of men – stood face to face with one another in the near darkness. What little was left of Brian was frozen in an upright position while the other one examined his creation.

“I will be borrowing this,” Boniface said as he tore Brian’s skull away from the dead soldier’s petrified remains. He then proceeded to swap it out with his own head to make room for his new acquisition.

“Rest easy,” the undead necromancer assured his victim, “Your soul will be put to a good use.”

Having carefully balanced Brian’s head on his shoulders, the necromancer cracked his neck as if to get a feel for its weight, before moving on. Though not bound to his being by any visible means, the skull did not fall off or even shift around as he moved. Much like the rest of the undead creature’s body, it was being held in place by the magic of necromancy.

Content with how it felt on his shoulders, the necromancer drew his hand across his new face and it took on a human appearance. In an instant the cold dead features of a skeleton had been replaced by Brian’s youthful expression. His previously naked fingers now had a human look to them while the bland brown robe that the necromancer wore appeared to have taken up a more shapely form. He had become the shadow of his victim – a perfect copy, but in appearance only.

The necromancer exercised his jaw and tried a few bites with his new teeth. He then left the alley behind and stepping out into the adjacent street. There he sighted the rest of the patrol that stood further down the road, waiting for their comrade that, unbeknownst to them, was never to return.

“Finally!” the Captain remarked while facing the imposter with his arms crossed in stern disapproval. “It took you long enough. What, did you lose your virginity back there while you were at it?”

He grinned, “Ah, sorry, lad. I couldn’t help myself with that one.”

The creature masquerading as Brian did not reply. He just smiled as he walked towards the soldiers.

The Captain squinted and leaned forward to examine the robed man approaching them.

“Where did you get that robe?” one of the veteran soldiers inquired.

The imposter kept silent as he drew closer to the men.

“What the Oblivion are you wearing?” the Captain asked.

“Your friend’s face,” Boniface replied in his own voice – a feature that his magic could not disguise. He then raised his hand towards the soldiers.

Before the Captain could react, the street was lit up in a flash of pale green light.

The air grew heavy in its passing and the scene turned dark once more as all the torches had been extinguished in an instant. Four bodies hit the ground almost simultaneously to the sound of their weapons and armor clashing together for one last time before the silence set it.

They were not dead. Not yet.

The Captain trembled as he tried to force himself to look up at the encroaching death. With a shaking hand he reached out and took hold of the robed man’s leg. It passed through the illusion of the human form and touched the bare bones beneath it.

“What… are… you?” the Captain asked in a frail voice. He was trying to hold on to his fading conscience.

The creature wearing Brian’s face frowned. “How rude,” Boniface replied. “It is who, not what. I really don’t like it when people refer to me as an object, you know – the insolence makes my marrow boil!”

“Don’t be so grouchy, Lord Boniface!” Silphi’s velvet smooth voice echoed down the empty street. “The poor bastard is clearly not thinking straight.”

The banshee emerged from the solid stone wall of a nearby townhouse and remained hovering in the air above the scene. Her white glow made the street seem a little brighter, if a lot less comforting for the poor humans.

“My Lady,” Boniface bowed his head in a greeting.

“My Lord,” Silphi returned the kindness.

The Captain lying at the necromancer’s feet gritted his teeth as he tried to force himself up from the ground. It was an admirable but entirely futile show of resistance.

Bones looked down with pity at the soon to be corpses before addressing Silphi, “If you would excuse me for a moment, My Lady – I have a few souls to collect. I will be with you shortly.”

Silphi nodded and curled a strand of her long white hair around her finger as she waited for him to finish.

Bones took out a little red gemstone and held it extended in his hand over the helpless soldiers.

“[Harvest of Souls]”, he whispered.

The four human souls sallied forth from their bodies and into the gemstone; four white strands of light were sealed away in a soul stone for later use by the necromancer in his dark rituals. Flesh and spirit parted by his will and will alone.

Bones shoved the red gemstone back into the pocket of his robe and raised his hands for a chant. The dead soldiers at his feet rattled and shook as the whispers grew in strength around them. Once the ritual had been completed the dead bodies rose once more and looked with empty eyes at their new master.

Silphi watched in silence as Brian’s skeletal body emerged from the alleyway and slowly marched towards his comrades. Four ghouls and a skeleton were all that was left after a brief encounter with a necromancer: Five new servants to the forces of darkness; a batch of fresh soldiers for the Devil’s cause.

Finished with his work, Bones turned his attention back to Silphi.

“Now then, My Lady, how may I serve our Master on this lovely autumn night?”

“It is always a pleasure to watch you work,” Silphi commented and tilted her head to one side. “Not a speck of arcanite wasted again.”

Boniface smiled. “And it brings me great joy to hear you say it, Silphi.”

“Is that a new face you have there?” she asked.

“This one?” Bones inquired and pointed at his head. “Yes… A little too young don’t you think? For my tastes, anyway…

How about you? Does this appearance please you?”

“I still like the original one best.” Silphi averted her gaze and examined the rising silver moon. “Those deep blue eyes of yours – I could never forget them. Not even after a thousand years.”

Boniface once more drew his hand across his face, dispelling the effects of the illusion spell. The false appearance of a youthful man was vanquished, replaced by the harsh reality of an undead creature hiding beneath it.

He lowered his head in shame. “I am sorry, Silphi, but… I really wish that I could–”

“It truly is a splendid evening, don’t you think?” Silphi shifted the conversation.

Her question lingered unanswered long enough for it to become uncomfortable for the both of them.

The banshee examined the utterly unremarkable street with a patient, if somewhat annoyed gaze, as she waited for Boniface to pick up the conversation.

“Only half as wonderful as you,” Bones finally replied.

“Shall we?” He gestured toward the far end of the street.

Silphi lowered herself and took up a position at the necromancer’s side. The two of them slowly made their way through the town.

The five undead warriors that Bones had just raised quietly followed their master at their own sluggish pace. They kept a respectful distance not to bother their creator while he escorted the lady through the dusk covered city streets.

Bones noted that the banshee’s feet were far from the ground while their heads were on the same level. “Are you still self-conscious about your height?” he asked.

Silphi made a show of looking the other way in refusal of his suggestion. “I am not concerned about it!” she protested, “Not in the slightest.”

“I apologize, My Lady.” Bones bowed his head. “It was silly of me to indulge in such foolish notions.”

“You have always lacked the tact required of your position,” Silphi said. “It is a wonder that you managed to keep the Thornwood house together. Blunt honesty is noble, if counterproductive, My Lord.”

“I have never been one for false words and pretenses,” Bones admitted. “Yet you never seemed to mind it.”

Silphi nodded several times with furious determination. “That’s why I liked you so much. That’s why I loved you…

All the other suitors were so fake, so… self-absorbed?” She shook her head in dismissal. “The lies and the false promises – it was all so transparent.

But not you, Lord Boniface of House Thornwood. You always spoke your mind, no matter how inappropriate it might be. Proud, honest and rightfully arrogant – you seemed so wrong, yet so right… at the time. To a silly girl with silly dreams of freedom…”

For a brief moment Silphi’s distant expression was livened up by a gentle smile. “You were a nice man,” she said and looked down at the dead expression of a skeleton walking at her side; her smile vanishing the moment she traced his lifeless eyes. “A long time ago…”

“Indeed,” Bones whispered.

The two of them shared a moment of silent remembrance of days long gone by to the slow rustle of chainmail as the Duke’s dead soldiers followed them.

“The earthly tones suit you, My Lord,” Silphi said as she once more examined the necromancer.

Bones looked up at her. “You think so?”

“Definitely!” Silphi said. “Also, you should really wear robes more often. They make you look less skinny than those suits you seem to like so much. I would strongly advise you to leave the fashion to the living and embrace the evil necromancer look. It is in season.”

“I don’t know,” Bones said. “I like wearing my old clothes. The robes – they are just way to cliché for my taste.”

“But it is so un-mage like!” Silphi protested. “Have you taken note of how the necromancers dress these days? Long flowing robes! Long flowing robes everywhere!”

She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, “Why fight the trend, oh, Lord of Darkness? I mean, you should dress the part, right?”

“Ehh…” Bones sighed. “Did our Master really summon me just to discuss the latest fashion trends with you?”

Silphi frowned in resigned disappointment. “Fine,” she said. “Let’s talk business, Lord Killjoy of House Skellington. Would it really kill you again to entertain me a while longer on this lovely evening?”

Bones chose to let her quip remain unanswered. “I would love to spend a lazy evening in your company, Silphi, but I have paces to be; people to kill. I am sort of in the middle of something, so–”

“Alright, alright…” Silphi waved her hands in capitulation. “She has a job for you. A bit of a cleanup operation, really.”

Bones stared at her with his empty eye sockets.

“Are you… are you frowning at me?” Silphi asked.

“Can’t you tell?” Bones replied in a grouchy tone.

“No,” Silphi admitted, “You know that I can’t read that ultimate poker face of yours. I am not her, you know!”

“Well, frankly, I am a little upset that I have to be the one to deal with some silly little errand that you or Lemmy would be more than qualified to handle on your own. I might have the eternity at my disposal, but my time is precious, you know.”

“Don’t be like that,” Silphi pleaded. “Master just went a little overboard with her necromancy during the siege. Just a little smidge…”

Bones sighed heavily. “And?” he asked, “What happened?”

Silphi did her best to downplay the gravity of the situation as she described it to him. “You know how she had planned to raise dead in the graveyard next to the city? Just a couple hundred to harry the defenders… ”

“Go on,” Bones said.

“She… Umm, well – her spells might have been a little too powerful.”

“Where else?” Bones asked.

“Where else, what?” Silphi asked. She made her best effort to seem innocent.

“Where else did they rise?” Bones asked.

Silphi gazed up at the night sky. “I guess it would be best if I showed you,” she said. “Hold on to your pants– err, robes, My Lord.”

The banshee ascended straight into the air and dragged the robed skeleton up with her. The duo of death finally halted in place a stone’s throw above the townhouses below them.

“That’s the graveyard over there,” Silphi pointed at the burial grounds beyond the city walls. “Aaaand that is the where the Rotwald family catacombs are located,” she pointed in the opposite direction at the bell tower in the middle of the city of Hadel.

“Pretty impressive range, huh?”

“What is that, a radius of like a kilometer and a half?” Bones inquired.

“More like two!” Silphi corrected him. “We were kind of lucky that they did not spill out into the city. The siege could have turned out rather messy if they had.”

Bones looked at Silphi. “Alright, so she unintentionally resurrected the dead in the catacombs below the temple,” he said, “But I still don’t see how my presence was required for this. Couldn’t she just have you or Lemmy deal with it?”

The banshee shook her head. “Lemmy has not yet fully adjusted to his new human form… And as for me, I guess I could have done it, but our Master figured that having you on hand to harvest a few souls while we were at it was the more prudent approach.”

“I suppose I can’t argue with that,” Bones admitted. “Fine, I will head over to the temple and salvage the spillover from our Masters little experiment. I can only hope that she will exercise a little more restrain the next time she decides to cast one of my spells…”

Silphi raised her eyebrows and shrugged. “Meh? You think? I mean, it’s like shooting sparrows with cannon, in her case anyway. There is bound to be collateral damage…”

Lord Boniface flexed his fingers to the sound of cracking bones. “Alright,” he said. “Let me down and I will head on over to the temple.”

“Why? We are close enough that I can–”

“Silphi, don’t!” Bones protested.

“… Throw you,” Silphi finished her sentence, grinning menacingly at the necromancer.

“Silphi, please,” Bones pleaded, “Please, don’t thro–”

Whooosh!

“Good bye, My Looooord…” Silphi’s joyous voice carried after him as Bones soared towards the bell tower of the temple building, his brown robes flapping wildly in the nightly breeze as he went.

“Damn you, Silphi…” Bones crossed his arms in a calm acceptance of what was about to happen.

Smack!

His body scattered through the air as the undead necromancer collided with the solid stone wall of the bell tower. A shower of Bones descended upon the market square in front of the temple. His now vacant brown robe slid down the wall and landed at the entrance of the building.

As the rainfall of bones finally subsided the square lit up in a pale green glow as his body reassembled itself. A few seconds later Boniface stood whole once more and ready to press onwards with his task.

He picked up his brown robe at the entrance of the temple and pulled it over his head before stepping inside. One past the threshold, Boniface was greeted with the splendid halls and silent marble statues honoring the haloed seven. Noble, tall and athletic, the seven gods of the Temple were carved in fine detail. Adorned with gold and jewelry – as was expected of the divine guardians of humanity – they stood with their wings folded. Each held one item in their hands: a sword, shield, spear, bow, scepter, hammer and a scythe.

At the far end of the hall was a small stone bust of a man – the Highfather. He looked plain and meek, but was actually held in the highest honor, despite residing in the company of seven gods. Once a mortal man, he was revered by the Temple for his actions during the first magicide, the time when necromancy was first wrought upon this world.

Bones paid no heed to the silent gods as he made his way through the hall. Once he arrived at the entrance of the crypt in the depths of the temple, he found two militiamen guarding the barricade.

“I am not here for you,” Bones reassured them, “So it is up to you how it ends.”

The two men glared at the necromancer with terrified expressions.

Boniface noted how they would need to walk past him to leave the temple, so he chose to be accommodating and stepped out of the way.

“Go on,” he said and gestured for the exit, “This is your last chance to leave. Go home and stay home, if you wish to see the morning sun.”

Terrified as they were, the militiamen were not so absent minded that they could not grasp at the opportunity that he presented them. So they scrambled for the exit, one of them slamming shoulder first into the doorway as he went.

Boniface examined the staircase next. Wooden beams, benches, crates, barrels and firewood had all been thrown together in an attempt to seal off the entrance to the Rotwald family crypts. It was a messy, but reasonable attempt at stopping the undead from reaching the surface. So far it appeared to be holding.

Presented with the blocked passage, Bones opened a tear in the wall separating the realms. A portal to the Void was brought into existence. The air grew cold and faint whispers began to echo off of the walls of the temple.

As Boniface stepped through the pitch black gateway he was met with utter darkness. Silence was supreme in this realm.

Having closed the portal behind him, Boniface raised his hand and a pale green flame sprung forth from it. Once formed, the light was enough to reveal his surroundings for what they were – a silent, ash gray imprint of the temple upon the realm of the Void.

Ashen walls, ashen halls and an ashen floor beneath his white bone feet – The Void was cold beyond freezing, but to the dead man it mattered little.

He approached the gray barricade blocking the descent into the crypt and pressed through it without resistance. Met with his touch, the ash benches and crates scattered like dust in the wind. Yet, there was no wind here, so the ash settled upon the steps of the stairs and the robes of the man passing through.

Once he had traversed the obstacle, Boniface soon reached the bottom of the stairs and the crypt proper.

It looked empty – void of all life. There were no bodies, no light and no enemies for him to tackle, so Boniface once more tore open the shroud separating the realms and stepped back into the land of the living.

Once through, Boniface was met by the silent, green and hate filled looks of the crypt’s denizens. Aroused from their slumber, the Rotwald men and women wandered the silent halls in their burial clothes – some so ancient that they were no more than rags. They appeared indifferent to the necromancer, choosing instead to focus on the barricade that held them back from the surface world.

“Time to go back to sleep,” Bones said. As he walked past the restless abominations, the green fires in their eyes were snuffed out and the creatures fell where they stood. Soon the ground was littered with the mummified remains of the Rotwald family.

The burial chambers were connected by several long corridors and Boniface was going to have to scour all of them to cleanse the crypt completely. The task took him a while, but eventually all of the undead had been put to rest.

Thinking his task complete, Boniface was about to turn back and leave the crypt, when his attention was caught by an old stone tablet at the foot of a sarcophagus. It belonged to one Henry Rotwald and described his journey during the time of the first magicide – of how he survived the war and traveled to Leidemar.

The topic garnered some interest from Boniface, so the necromancer carefully read through the account only to end up frustrated, once he realized that the second part was missing. A second tablet, it would seem, once existed.

Still intrigued, Boniface pried open the sarcophagus to find the owner body still resting within.

“That’s odd,” he thought. “What kept you from rising?”

A short search of the body uncovered a small silver medallion. Boniface opened it to find a thumb sized voidstone nestled within.

“I hope you don’t mind me taking that,” Boniface told the withered corpse lying in the sarcophagus.

He examined the pitch black gemstone under the magic light in his fingers and found it to be in a perfect condition. The discovery warranted his manipulation of the medallion to grow ever more careful, as the necromancer sought to preserve the pristine state of the Void artifact.

He was almost foiled his efforts when Silphi sprung up from the ground beneath him.

“What’cha got there!” the banshee asked in a chipper tone.

Startled, Boniface fumbled the medallion, but managed to hold onto it in the end.

“Don’t– do that,” Bones said.

Silphi nodded. “What’s that in your hand?” she asked.

Boniface extended the medallion towards Silphi and the banshee recoiled from it. She barred her teeth in an expression of disgust.

“Don’t do that!” she yelled. “It hurts!”

“It should,” Bones noted. “That’s a genuine voidstone. I haven’t seen that many Void artifacts around these parts.”

He gestured at the sarcophagus, “Old Henry over there was buried with it.”

“What are you going to do with it?” Silphi asked.

“Oh, I am sure that I can find a use for it,” Boniface replied.

“Why don’t you give it to Victorian?” the banshee asked. “It is his family’s heirloom, after all.”

“He will be dead soon enough,” Boniface answered.

“You don’t know that,” Silphi objected. “Our Master might decide in favor of him.”

“I suppose,” Bones said, “Though I would advise against him.”

“Why are you so upset about this?” Silphi asked.

“I am not upset,” Bones corrected her, “I am positively livid!

I expect Diana to stay out of my work – we all know that it is probably for the best – but she keeps breaking that agreement with her constant scheming. I have spent a lot of time setting up the kingdom of Leidemar for our arrival, and a part of that is extending my influence over the nobility.

House Steinfeld has been accounted for – they have a part to play, while the Rotwalds were never considered. But if a minor house rises up in revolt against their liege, then I will lose all the influence I had with the Duke. Furthermore, he will likely lose the kings support after this debacle.”

“Is he one of your agents, or something?” Silphi asked.

“No,” Bones replied, “But he is useful to me none the less. The Rotwald boy, however, is not. He is a nuisance.”

Silphi pouted. “Well, I mean, we are here now,” she said. “Let’s just see how it all plays out.”

“Indeed,” Bones said. “But I know whose blood I would prefer be spilled tonight.”

The necromancer pulled out the little red gemstone containing the souls of the soldiers from his pocket and examined it. “Otherwise I will have to harvest many more souls before the sun rises…”