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A flayed portion of ogre flesh, complete with muscle and sinew, is pinned down to a flat surface on a large desk. A vast array of brass instruments, glass tubes and lenses litter the workplace, a focus poised near the hunk of flesh. A robed figure stands several feet away, rubbing the back of his hand absently as he watches. With an arcane command,the focus spews dark energy, raw power from a dark plane. The ray elicits a smile from the robed figure, feeling his time close.
The robed man thinks back on the days, years before, when his former mentors first brought him to aid in one of their dark experiments. Then, the wizard was aware of the taboo nature of their work, though he had little choice. He had always dreamed to be a wizard, a great sage, or powerful conjurer! His dreams were always grand, a bold testament to his ambition, so his path to his mentors began..
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As he came of age, he had nowhere to go, an ambitious boy in a small village, days from the nearest city. A tenday from the great city of Calimport. He passed his time as a boy with dreams of his future achievements, telling all that he would one day be great. His boasting was lost to the ears of most, until two men approached him, and offered him his dream. So he thought...
It did not take the boy long to see his err in dealing with the men. Their secrecy and callousness escaped him that first meeting. Within a tenday, the boy could sense their darkness, a stark contrast to his still innocent youthfulness. His sanctuary, however, made his stay worth while, in the beginning. Their library was a rather extensive collection of lore, covering many subjects. His favorites were texts of the many Planes, and the texts on conjurations, and great conjurers. He studied them ferverously in any time he could spare.
Despite their lack of regimented teaching, they did expect from him. They saw to it that he would learn to be like them. Their lessons often ending with his small body beaten and weakened by spells. Though, their cruel, dispassionate, treatment towards the boy fostered one positive lesson. Discipline, if not of his action, of his learning the Art.
Over time, they taught him to use the weave, to cast a variety of common spells, and a few of their own dark spells.. They taught him of the Dark Art, Necromancy. Their mastery of the Art was impressive, by the standards of most. Though they did not command the undead, or study to raise them, they were Masters of manipulating raw negative energy.. A purely dark power.
Over time, the boy aged, though his Mentors seemed to age less. Their gaunt features, and shadowed eyes shown the same strength as they did a decade past. Their skin seemed hardened, they ate, slept, and drank less. Their bodies became so resilient to the dark energy, and it was obvious to the boy, now a young man...
In this time, his first experiment started. Though, from his beginnings, it was a shame his first obsession would be at best a morally gray, perhaps evil, path. But for the years he spent with the men, he lost much of his ideals, it was not his purpose to subjugate others, or destroy cities, but he saw no wrong in this path to power now. He saw what he wanted, and this was a step to gaining it, it was logical and the reward was justifiable.
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The many years he forced himself to stay with his Mentors, was a means to what he now did. His accidental discovery, his first great accomplishment. It had been years in the making, after he left them. Tendays had passed since he came to this Valley, Sundren. In that time, he perfected it, his time was come.
The flesh sizzled under the dark ray of power, the blackness soaking into the flesh, as it had several times over days. In moments the ray ceased, and the robed figure rushed to the flesh. He inspected it, and tested it, endlessly, for hours he toiled. His extensive notes, expanding with this last test.
His heart beat like the sound of a thousand war drums in his ears, his hands trembled, his palms were drenched in sweat. As he looked over the notes, the reactions of the flesh, he noticed the improvements. The strength! The resiliency was so far increased, he could hardly believe it! With his long term exposure over the years, and his already strengthened fortitude, it would take little time to complete the fusing of the energy to his body. He knew it would sicken him at first, that his body would try to reject it, but the strength it would bring!
How powerful would he be, a wizard so strong against the world, at last something great would become of him! his dreams were beginning, a perverted image of the visions of his childhood...
The robed man thinks back on the days, years before, when his former mentors first brought him to aid in one of their dark experiments. Then, the wizard was aware of the taboo nature of their work, though he had little choice. He had always dreamed to be a wizard, a great sage, or powerful conjurer! His dreams were always grand, a bold testament to his ambition, so his path to his mentors began..
--------------------------------
As he came of age, he had nowhere to go, an ambitious boy in a small village, days from the nearest city. A tenday from the great city of Calimport. He passed his time as a boy with dreams of his future achievements, telling all that he would one day be great. His boasting was lost to the ears of most, until two men approached him, and offered him his dream. So he thought...
It did not take the boy long to see his err in dealing with the men. Their secrecy and callousness escaped him that first meeting. Within a tenday, the boy could sense their darkness, a stark contrast to his still innocent youthfulness. His sanctuary, however, made his stay worth while, in the beginning. Their library was a rather extensive collection of lore, covering many subjects. His favorites were texts of the many Planes, and the texts on conjurations, and great conjurers. He studied them ferverously in any time he could spare.
Despite their lack of regimented teaching, they did expect from him. They saw to it that he would learn to be like them. Their lessons often ending with his small body beaten and weakened by spells. Though, their cruel, dispassionate, treatment towards the boy fostered one positive lesson. Discipline, if not of his action, of his learning the Art.
Over time, they taught him to use the weave, to cast a variety of common spells, and a few of their own dark spells.. They taught him of the Dark Art, Necromancy. Their mastery of the Art was impressive, by the standards of most. Though they did not command the undead, or study to raise them, they were Masters of manipulating raw negative energy.. A purely dark power.
Over time, the boy aged, though his Mentors seemed to age less. Their gaunt features, and shadowed eyes shown the same strength as they did a decade past. Their skin seemed hardened, they ate, slept, and drank less. Their bodies became so resilient to the dark energy, and it was obvious to the boy, now a young man...
In this time, his first experiment started. Though, from his beginnings, it was a shame his first obsession would be at best a morally gray, perhaps evil, path. But for the years he spent with the men, he lost much of his ideals, it was not his purpose to subjugate others, or destroy cities, but he saw no wrong in this path to power now. He saw what he wanted, and this was a step to gaining it, it was logical and the reward was justifiable.
--------------------------------
The many years he forced himself to stay with his Mentors, was a means to what he now did. His accidental discovery, his first great accomplishment. It had been years in the making, after he left them. Tendays had passed since he came to this Valley, Sundren. In that time, he perfected it, his time was come.
The flesh sizzled under the dark ray of power, the blackness soaking into the flesh, as it had several times over days. In moments the ray ceased, and the robed figure rushed to the flesh. He inspected it, and tested it, endlessly, for hours he toiled. His extensive notes, expanding with this last test.
His heart beat like the sound of a thousand war drums in his ears, his hands trembled, his palms were drenched in sweat. As he looked over the notes, the reactions of the flesh, he noticed the improvements. The strength! The resiliency was so far increased, he could hardly believe it! With his long term exposure over the years, and his already strengthened fortitude, it would take little time to complete the fusing of the energy to his body. He knew it would sicken him at first, that his body would try to reject it, but the strength it would bring!
How powerful would he be, a wizard so strong against the world, at last something great would become of him! his dreams were beginning, a perverted image of the visions of his childhood...
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