Live
Footsteps echoed off the cursed stones. Blood red light washed over them as the robed figure walked. The stone in his hands flickered and pulsed with an unholy life. Yes, that was the best word to describe what the stone held. Life. He would know, of course. The stone in his hands was a result of his experiments, after all.
The bald forsaken marched through the twisting maze of corridors with a purpose, his skeletal jaw set in it's eerie grin. His eyeless face held an expression of triumph; he had gained both the parasite AND a host body. Ahead, a faint green light could be seen coming from a doorway set in the corridor's stones. He turned into the room and surveyed the occupants.
A vast, rectangular room stretched out before him. His three most loyal acolytes busily darted around the laboratory, checking test-tubes, measuring liquids, and comparing notes in hushed whispers. As their master entered, they stopped and turned toward him, bowing deep at the waist. He waved his free hand dismissively and they went about their work again. At the far end of the chamber, a slab of black stone was being crowded by a number of animated skeletons. The body secured to the slab was what interested him most.
A filthy stench akin to rotting meat and dead animals wafted past him as he approached, though he knew it did not originate from the cadaver strapped to the slab. A human that could be best described as a walking plague snapped orders at the skeletons. His gloved hands held a pair of massive tongs, which in turn held something in the fires of a furnace. A pair of skeletons worked the billows, while another pair hastily filled a bucket with water. The man's diseased and pockmarked face was drenched in sweat, giving him an even more unhealthy look.
At the robed forsaken's approach, the smith bowed his head and the skeletons bowed at the waist, which drew angry scolding from the smith. "I trust all goes well?" The robed man wanted to know. "The time is almost nigh."
Staring into the fire of the furnace, the smith gave a slight nod, then jerked his head in the direction of the slab. "We did what yer asked. Cut tha hair wher yer said, dug out 'is eyes, blackened what were left o' 'is hair..." The robed man nodded, returning his gaze to the corpse on the table. Possibly a handsome man in life, the face of the cadaver had suffered through some minor decay, and his eyesockets were void of eyes. His chest held a horizontal scar right over where his heart would be; something had passed between the ribs at an angle and pierced him. His head was crowned with a shaggy black mop, though some of it had been cut away.
The robed forsaken inwardly smirked at the irony of it. He had pulled the parasite from Zanik, only to place him into a body that looked exactly like Zanik. He had the body of Zanik's brother excavated for this sole purpose. A little tweaking and the twin of the knight looked the part perfectly. The final touches were to be made very soon.
The robed man cleared his throat. "It is time. I trust it is ready?" The smith grunted and withdrew the tongs. They gripped a work of art the robed man prided himself on. Two oval metal bands welded together at two points. On the underside of this one, runes and symbols of death and destruction were raised. The initials "E.B." glowed at where the bands met at one point. The smith, working as though his life depended on it (for it likely did), cautiously slipped the bands over the head of the body, which was being lifted by the skeletons that worked the billows. The bands slipped over it's head without touching anything, just as the robed man predicted.
A barked order brought the second pair of skeletons forward, bearing a bucket of water. As they poured it over the heated metal, cooling it, it shrank the rest of the way to the body's head, fitting perfectly over where the hair had been cut. The smell and sound of sizzling, burning flesh filled the air, but nobody present seemed bothered by it. Steam rose from the metal as the last of the water was emptied onto the cadaver's head, setting the bands firmly into his head, the runes on the underside burning their way into the skull permanently.
"You've done well." Ezekiul praised the smith. "One of my followers will retrieve for you your payment. You may leave now." Dismissed and satisfied that he still lived, the smith hurried away. The necromancer turned to the body, appraising his work. Indeed, except for the differing scar, the body now looked eerily similar to Zanik. The hand that clutched the glowing gem reached over and placed it upon the scar. The gem evaporate, and it's light sank into the chest of the body.
Fingers twitched, limbs jerked. The body in it's entirety shivered and convulsed, then fell still. Two thin red lines formed in the eyesockets. A moment later, they snapped over, a pair of orbs formed from blood-red fire gazing out into the world. A steady stream of fire gushed from the previously empty eyesockets. Kinaz turned his gaze toward the necromancer. "Give me... a sword."
The bald forsaken marched through the twisting maze of corridors with a purpose, his skeletal jaw set in it's eerie grin. His eyeless face held an expression of triumph; he had gained both the parasite AND a host body. Ahead, a faint green light could be seen coming from a doorway set in the corridor's stones. He turned into the room and surveyed the occupants.
A vast, rectangular room stretched out before him. His three most loyal acolytes busily darted around the laboratory, checking test-tubes, measuring liquids, and comparing notes in hushed whispers. As their master entered, they stopped and turned toward him, bowing deep at the waist. He waved his free hand dismissively and they went about their work again. At the far end of the chamber, a slab of black stone was being crowded by a number of animated skeletons. The body secured to the slab was what interested him most.
A filthy stench akin to rotting meat and dead animals wafted past him as he approached, though he knew it did not originate from the cadaver strapped to the slab. A human that could be best described as a walking plague snapped orders at the skeletons. His gloved hands held a pair of massive tongs, which in turn held something in the fires of a furnace. A pair of skeletons worked the billows, while another pair hastily filled a bucket with water. The man's diseased and pockmarked face was drenched in sweat, giving him an even more unhealthy look.
At the robed forsaken's approach, the smith bowed his head and the skeletons bowed at the waist, which drew angry scolding from the smith. "I trust all goes well?" The robed man wanted to know. "The time is almost nigh."
Staring into the fire of the furnace, the smith gave a slight nod, then jerked his head in the direction of the slab. "We did what yer asked. Cut tha hair wher yer said, dug out 'is eyes, blackened what were left o' 'is hair..." The robed man nodded, returning his gaze to the corpse on the table. Possibly a handsome man in life, the face of the cadaver had suffered through some minor decay, and his eyesockets were void of eyes. His chest held a horizontal scar right over where his heart would be; something had passed between the ribs at an angle and pierced him. His head was crowned with a shaggy black mop, though some of it had been cut away.
The robed forsaken inwardly smirked at the irony of it. He had pulled the parasite from Zanik, only to place him into a body that looked exactly like Zanik. He had the body of Zanik's brother excavated for this sole purpose. A little tweaking and the twin of the knight looked the part perfectly. The final touches were to be made very soon.
The robed man cleared his throat. "It is time. I trust it is ready?" The smith grunted and withdrew the tongs. They gripped a work of art the robed man prided himself on. Two oval metal bands welded together at two points. On the underside of this one, runes and symbols of death and destruction were raised. The initials "E.B." glowed at where the bands met at one point. The smith, working as though his life depended on it (for it likely did), cautiously slipped the bands over the head of the body, which was being lifted by the skeletons that worked the billows. The bands slipped over it's head without touching anything, just as the robed man predicted.
A barked order brought the second pair of skeletons forward, bearing a bucket of water. As they poured it over the heated metal, cooling it, it shrank the rest of the way to the body's head, fitting perfectly over where the hair had been cut. The smell and sound of sizzling, burning flesh filled the air, but nobody present seemed bothered by it. Steam rose from the metal as the last of the water was emptied onto the cadaver's head, setting the bands firmly into his head, the runes on the underside burning their way into the skull permanently.
"You've done well." Ezekiul praised the smith. "One of my followers will retrieve for you your payment. You may leave now." Dismissed and satisfied that he still lived, the smith hurried away. The necromancer turned to the body, appraising his work. Indeed, except for the differing scar, the body now looked eerily similar to Zanik. The hand that clutched the glowing gem reached over and placed it upon the scar. The gem evaporate, and it's light sank into the chest of the body.
Fingers twitched, limbs jerked. The body in it's entirety shivered and convulsed, then fell still. Two thin red lines formed in the eyesockets. A moment later, they snapped over, a pair of orbs formed from blood-red fire gazing out into the world. A steady stream of fire gushed from the previously empty eyesockets. Kinaz turned his gaze toward the necromancer. "Give me... a sword."