Eldor stared at the board before him. A simple word for all to see…
Necromancy
It had so much…history behind it. Like many other archmagi, Eldor’s primary goal was the pursuit of knowledge–no matter the cost. However; that…Cult had such a stranglehold on necromantic magic, it was nearly impossible to study. Their stupid god was stifling any new discoveries and stamping out progress. But fighting death was a futile endeavor. Only through plenty of donations and diplomatic pressure, were they even able to bring up the topic to their students. It was a joint effort between the headmasters and the “divine leaders”. The team combed through all texts, changed curriculum, and removed “problematic” literature from the academy. Hard lines were drawn on what could be taught to the fledgling magi. Any deviations from the approved studies would bring swift judgment. It was so…frustrating. He was already a master-class enchanter, he had yet to abuse his class. Why couldn’t he properly train others to do the same?!
Even now, the only spells sanctioned by the priests were simple things like [Death Bolt]. All other texts with higher tiered magic had been scrubbed. Furthermore, the basic rituals were forbidden. While they could discuss negative or death zones, they couldn’t talk about how they were created. In fact, they went so far as to censor any positive texts as well. Before the purge, Eldor recalled an old historial text discussing a kingdom heavily influenced by necromancy. Thousands upon thousands of corpses were raised and used as labor. Each one carefully designed for the task at hand, vast zones of negative energy fueling the masses. Meanwhile, their still living citizens enjoyed a life of luxury. Instead of working to survive, they could pursue whatever passion which drove them. Arts flourished, classes expanded, and life was good.
Sure there were some…negative aspects of it. The largest involving the vast amounts of living sacrifices. Every day they had to slaughter a decent amount of people to fuel the death fields. However, that was easily dealt with via prisoners, slaves, and culling the elderly. In fact, the elderly saw it as a way of giving back to the next generation. Their lives fuel the various rituals maintaining the negative regions. They were given a painless death, their lives transformed into energy for the mass of undead. It was a selfless act, it was something that should be thanked not scorned. Of course, they only made up about 10% of the total needed. But Eldor was sure there were more efficient ways of keeping the cycle going.
And that was the root of the problem! With the spread of Deas, alternatives could never be studied. Worse yet was the incident at the academy. As time passed, the cult became less active. Their priests visited less often as they expanded worship across the lands. With the lack of oversight, new books snuck past the censors. They were minor tomes at first, simple spells to manipulate bone, others teach how to merge flesh for rapid wound healing, and minor animation of vermin. They knew it was trouble, but the temptation was too great. One by one, the students began to practice in secret. Books passed around under protection spells as word spread through the upper classes. Many brushed it off as a rumor, but the ones who knew quickly formed their own sect.
It was a slow and careful process. If discovered, there was a high chance of execution. Since the cult had free reign over necromancers, there was little chance of mercy. But the taste of forbidden knowledge was far too great. Pacts were made to keep lips tight, code words created so they may discuss in public, even special markings developed indicating a safe place for practice. Yet, these books were only the start. As their resources grew, they began to hire [Smuggler]’s and other shady dealers. Huge bounties were placed on necromantic texts, rumors, and even samples. The upperclassmen ventured forth to fields of battle. While they said they were there to help cull the roaming dead, in reality they were gathering information. As they continued to grow, the cult caught wind of the action. A deadly duel in the underground occurred, information brokers captured and interrogated. Baits laid out and false rumors started to halt the flow of information. Even with their vast resources, they couldn’t identify the leader. So many layers were developed, cells were formed isolating information, minds were enchanted to prevent thought reading, nearly every aspect was blocked in some way. Seeing such an intricate network, the cult realized this was a problem that couldn’t continue.
With the priests focused on stamping out the flood of information, those inside the towering walls began constructing grand chambers. Sympathy magi worked alongside summoners to evacuate underground caverns. Rotating teams fueled various golems to dig through the tough bedrock. It was a grueling process that required huge pools of mana to accomplish, yet they were persistent. Quickly following the excavators were the Ritualists. The teams worked in sync as they chanted and drew runes all across the walls. At first it was simple things, glowing runes to provide light, filtration spells to keep the air from stagnating, and silencing sigils to block scrying. However, after 3 years, they stumbled upon a massive break-through.
One adventure stumbled across the ancient dungeon of a former [Lich Lord]. While the Lich was long gone, his texts remained behind. Word spread and the Cult quickly swarmed the site to purify the area, but one book was able to be salvaged. Located within were the basic principles of necromancy. Various spells on how to raise the dead, modify corpses, halt the rot of specimens, and most importantly; turn away the eye of Deas. With such a spell, they were able to turn these caverns into training grounds. No outside source could sense the flow of death below. The chambers quickly turned into macabre laboratories. A place for the fledgling [Necromancer]’s to hone their craft.
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But it wasn’t enough to stop those from outside, but their colleagues as well. The more esoteric enchanters quickly agreed to practice on their fellow pupils. Rarely would they be able to cast these spells without serious consequences. Soon the hallways leading to the chamber were littered with long-lasting enchantments designed to turn away curious onlookers. Some created simple illusions, a wall instead of a door. Others addled the brain, causing anyone nearby to forget what they were doing. However, with so many working in tandem, only the greatest of casters could penetrate their magic.
With the foundations set, the sect began branching out. No longer were they satisfied reading through old texts. They needed materials and resources to practice. Corpses were ordered under the guise of medical training, Grave dirt was pilfered from nearby regions. Soon a blood tithe was enacted. Those within the cult were required to donate a pint of blood every few weeks in order to access the caverns. While they couldn’t directly create a negative zone, they were able to achieve the same effect by piling corpses into a single chamber. With the concentrated deathly energy, it was able to form a well within the room. Each room was carefully monitored for spontaneous reanimation, those that did were quickly whisked away for study.
It was a renaissance of magic. So many new classes were developed. People began to specialize into different roles. Some took up [Fleshshaper] and developed self-sustaining flesh golems. Some delving into the paths of animation and achieving the class of [Greater Necromancer], allowing them to summon and control vast amounts of undead. While others preferred a more traditional casting role. Focusing on controlling the flow of negative and deathly energy. These [Dark Mage]s were quite varied in their roles, but tended to drain the life of the living to empower their allies. Even those not directly interested in necromancy picked up a few new skills. Things like [Sense Undead], [Negative Attunement], and more. So much progress had been made in their studies and this was only the start.
Eldor couldn’t be prouder of those trailblazing mages. . His alum had risked it all in the pursuit of magic. It was a noble cause. Even after the purge, some of their nearly crafted skills were integrated into society. Basic things like bone manipulation to help with healing or ways to efficiently kill off undead with basic magics. He wished he could convince the cult to allow more studies, he was sure that new skills could be developed to combat the lingering threats of undeath. Yet, they were far to shortsighted to see all the advantages of it. Instead whining about how it desecrated the soul. How it was an affront to their god. How it left contaminated land in the wake, stifling any new life. It was this reason the clergy and the mages didn’t get along.
Yet, as they grew in size. The ability to hide their actions became exponentially harder. Enchanters were working in shifts to keep the spells charged. Coin was flowing out of the coffers as they paid bribes to various officials. Food was scarce as the anemic students ravenous devoured what they could. Even supplies rapidly dwindled causing the academy to take greater risks in acquiring corpses and other reagents. With so many moving parts, cracks began to form. It only took one stupid mistake for it to all collapse.
How he wished he could have been there. Of course not now as the bulk were executed, but to taste that euphoric sense of new magic. Spellcaster was inherently personal. While the various paths formed the foundations, each could be tweaked to match the mage’s personality. The flow of the aether empowering the soul, the energy filling the body. It was so…intoxicating. A raging inferno that grew within. Yet, he knew that overindulgence could lead to backlash. Flesh could only handle so much. Channeling too much aether had killed far better magi than him.
But alas, it only took one moment of weakness and the world united against them. One devout follower of Deas had applied to be a mage: Ralnor. He had the mind of a mage and the wisdom of a cleric. Seeing such talent, the academy couldn’t help but let him in. The student yearned to acquire the rare class [Spell Priest]. They were few and far between, but powerhouses within their religions. However, for all his talent and drive, the academy was stupid for letting him in.
As the new student roamed the halls, he could sense the overwhelming dread. Something was wrong, a tickle in his brain. He tried to ask around but was met with vague answers. Thinking it was another challenge from his teachers, he began to investigate. He wasn’t the best at it, but being so close to Deas gave him a few passive blessings. As he wandered the halls, he caught the smell of rot. It was pungent, filthy, something that needed to be cleansed. A simple prayer to Dead and a minor blessing was bestowed upon him. It took his entire being to not reveal his emotions. Standing at the end of the corridor was a shambling zombie. He couldn’t believe it! Before his prayer, it looked like an upperclassman. With renewed vigor, he quickly returned to his dorm. The depravity only increased as he passed more and more undead. He wanted to vomit, it was vile. It was wrong. He wanted to fight back, but knew that he’d be silenced and forgotten. There was only one way to stop this.
Sitting in his dorm, he pulled out his sanctified scry-glass. It was a cherished gift so he may still attend the various services and perform his penance. Using the coded language, he requested a direct contact with their leader. Moments later, the man’s face appeared. He was clearly unhappy with the interruption. Yet, he knew that Ralnor would use this in a true emergency. Face to face with his mentor, He carefully explained all he’d witnessed. The [Archbishop of the Afterlife] quietly listened to the facts, occasionally asking some clarifying questions. As they talked, all the pieces fit into place. Cutting the feed, the Archbishop reached out to the other leaders. To act against the academy would create much blowback. It was supposed to be a politically neutral location. A place of learning and study…but they could not allow this to continue. Already their god was starting to awaken, his wraith sweeping through their members. Gathering their most talented members, the Church of Deas marched to war.