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DUNGEON DEGENERATES LORE 8 - THE NECROMANCER
🕑 Added 2024-12-03 17:07:37 +0000 UTCOne of the most notable practitioners of magic was known only as “the Necromancer”. The Necromancer appeared in the Witch Wood & gathered a darkness that coated the area. The Necromancer collected power from the darkness, lifting inspiration from the shadows & people’s fears of what hid in them.
The Necromancer served as a shield for every nasty inhabitant of the Wald der Verwirrung & the surrounding area to hide behind. Witches, warlocks & their familiars, were-creatures, the undead, dire wolves, horrible crows, Trolls, Goblins & worse gathered in number in the depths of the wood. Under the Necromancer they grew in power & the Wald der Verwirrung became known as the Witchwood, a place decent folk would avoid.
The Necromancer had a great tower constructed deep in the heart of the Witchwood. The creatures called this Spinnenturm. Spinnenturm was surrounded by a pit filled with horrible thorny vines that would tear anyone that tried to pass through them to shreds. This pit was traversed by a lonely drawbridge that led to the mouth of Spinnenturm. The tower erupted out of this tangle. It was tall, the tallest thing for miles & it was thin, uncomfortably thin.
The Necromancer held court in the top level of Spinnenturm. There were a pair of enormous triangular windows looking out on the Würstreich. These eye windows matched the Necromancer’s visage. There was a cold precision to those eyes. A peering beyond the mundane & into the endless vacuum of space. A wholly inhuman intelligence that saw beyond the petty concerns of man.
The further from Spinnenturm the Necromancer went, their powers would be dramatically lessened. So as the Necromancer’s power increased the Witchwood would grow more dangerous but without range.
The Necromancer worked day & night on creating something with which to lay waste on the distant cities of the Würstreich. The eyes of Spinnenturm could be seen for miles ejecting magical blasts throughout the sky. These ejections made a horrible crackling, scraping sound that would raise goose pimples of any that heard it. This noise reminded something deep & primitive in humanity of an old fear of something terrible & unknown.
As the Necromancer grew in power in Spinnenturm, the Witchsmellers of the Empire found the lonely tower. The Witchsmellers alerted the army & they descended on the Witchwood. As they pushed on towards Spinnenturm they killed every abomination they happened on. The creatures were used to surprising the occasional lone traveler, not being vastly outnumbered & drowned out with violent potential. Their blood ran in streams & polluted the many rivers that flowed there.
Finally the men came upon Spinnenturm & lit the thorny brambles with their torches. Rows of Goblin archers sent their spindly, infected-looking, black wood arrows into the Imperial troops below. The troops pushed on & soon the tower was engulfed in flame. Magical bursts erupted from the eyes but it was too late. Enormous stones launched from Imperial catapults, slamming into the side of Spinnenturm & the tower was brought to the ground.
The fire continued to burn in the rubble, the pit smoked with the burnt remains of the thorny vines, Imperial soldiers found & killed the last remaining monsters that dared to stay. The sun shone bright & the Witchwood breathed a sigh of relief as the shadow passed. The men camped there that night & planned on marching back to Brüttelburg the following evening.
That night brought the most peace to the Witchwood in years. For once, all the terrors lay in fear of standing out, of being seen out of the shadows. Order had returned to the Witchwood, the men even dared to call it the Wald der Verwirrung again. The men’s campfires, songs, stories & pipe smoke lent an air of civilization to the forest that had long been absent.
As the sun went down the next day & dusk rose. The shadows were deeper & darker than before. The moon, full & bloated, dared to appear in the sky before the sun went down & seemed to drip on the land. It throbbed. The ruins of Spinnerturm started to shift & a terrible grinding, rending sound filled the air. An enormous disembodied hand rose from the rubble, the air crackled around it with terrible magical energy. The troops all held their ears & blood dripped from their noses, eyes & ears.
The Hand of Doom rose into the sky & made a sign, the air darkened around it, the shadows increased & seethed. The men shuddered & fell to their knees, holding their heads. Their pulses quickened in their skulls. The Hand of Doom made another sign, a constriction & the men all fell to the ground & died. The sky was a throbbing purple & the moon howled. The shadows rippled & the eyes of shadowy things looked out, hopeful.
