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With the passing seasons, so too, could change be felt in the air.
Mhaaj's time amongst the Black Hand had increased his arcane proficiencies threefold; never had he imagined ascending into the deepest circles of ancient draconian knowledge.
"Tonight is the night," Mhaaj murmured to himself, walking along the path of the Necropolis. The sun had descended along the horizon many hours ago, leaving nothing but a chilling evening air and fog along the Necropolis walkways.
The night signified a special occasion in the wizard's training. Making his way to the deepest part of the Necropolis, surrounded by the dead and decaying, Mhaaj prepared for an invocation to Myrkul, Lord of the Dead. If the Old Lord Skull looked upon the wizard with favor, the 7th circle of the arcane would be revealed.
Despite Mhaaj's alliance with the Black Hand and praise of the Lord of the Dead, the Necropolis was far from quiet concerning the wizard's entry. The unearthly fog that clung to the ground hid terrible creatures from sight; their ravenous-sounding moans and wails the only indicator of their presence. A lump of fear built in Mhaaj's throat as his sojourn to the most remote part of the Necropolis continued. The thought of being rejected by Lord Myrkul and being descended upon by the undead creatures surrounding him kept an elevated level of adrenalin coursing through his veins.
"At last.." Mhaaj stated to himself, coming upon a small cleared area. The wizard looked to the sky; the moon was nearing zenith along the sky soon. If he wasn't prepared by midnight, his chance would be missed. The wizard worked with great haste, creating a figure of several concentric circles around himself with the ashes of the dead. Certain positions around the circles were marked with lit candles, indicating some sort of arcane significance, which increased with greater frequency towards the inner circles closest to Mhaaj.
Mhaaj's personal spelltome lay open before the circle, at the page where a 7th circle spell would be scribed. As the moon grew fuller and moved towards the midnight mark on the celestial sphere, Mhaaj began his servile ritual to appease his patron. Incantations and praises sailed along the cold, chilled air, reverberating throughout the entire Necropolis. Sealing the invocations with his own blood, the young wizard slit open his hand, letting the crimson teardrops fall from his hand to the tome below.
As the full moon climbed to its highest point, an ominous breeze passed through the Necropolis in response to the ritual, carrying the faint sound of a malignant whisper.
Shroud Wearer..
The moonlight and blood coalesced onto the tome page below, transmogrifying into an intricate, ancient draconian set of symbols which heralded the success of the ritual.
Mhaaj took his tome and pulled a ring from his pocket. He activated the gem, projecting his image across the Valley.
"Anosh, the time has come.."
Mhaaj's time amongst the Black Hand had increased his arcane proficiencies threefold; never had he imagined ascending into the deepest circles of ancient draconian knowledge.
"Tonight is the night," Mhaaj murmured to himself, walking along the path of the Necropolis. The sun had descended along the horizon many hours ago, leaving nothing but a chilling evening air and fog along the Necropolis walkways.
The night signified a special occasion in the wizard's training. Making his way to the deepest part of the Necropolis, surrounded by the dead and decaying, Mhaaj prepared for an invocation to Myrkul, Lord of the Dead. If the Old Lord Skull looked upon the wizard with favor, the 7th circle of the arcane would be revealed.
Despite Mhaaj's alliance with the Black Hand and praise of the Lord of the Dead, the Necropolis was far from quiet concerning the wizard's entry. The unearthly fog that clung to the ground hid terrible creatures from sight; their ravenous-sounding moans and wails the only indicator of their presence. A lump of fear built in Mhaaj's throat as his sojourn to the most remote part of the Necropolis continued. The thought of being rejected by Lord Myrkul and being descended upon by the undead creatures surrounding him kept an elevated level of adrenalin coursing through his veins.
"At last.." Mhaaj stated to himself, coming upon a small cleared area. The wizard looked to the sky; the moon was nearing zenith along the sky soon. If he wasn't prepared by midnight, his chance would be missed. The wizard worked with great haste, creating a figure of several concentric circles around himself with the ashes of the dead. Certain positions around the circles were marked with lit candles, indicating some sort of arcane significance, which increased with greater frequency towards the inner circles closest to Mhaaj.
Mhaaj's personal spelltome lay open before the circle, at the page where a 7th circle spell would be scribed. As the moon grew fuller and moved towards the midnight mark on the celestial sphere, Mhaaj began his servile ritual to appease his patron. Incantations and praises sailed along the cold, chilled air, reverberating throughout the entire Necropolis. Sealing the invocations with his own blood, the young wizard slit open his hand, letting the crimson teardrops fall from his hand to the tome below.
As the full moon climbed to its highest point, an ominous breeze passed through the Necropolis in response to the ritual, carrying the faint sound of a malignant whisper.
Shroud Wearer..
The moonlight and blood coalesced onto the tome page below, transmogrifying into an intricate, ancient draconian set of symbols which heralded the success of the ritual.
Mhaaj took his tome and pulled a ring from his pocket. He activated the gem, projecting his image across the Valley.
"Anosh, the time has come.."
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