City of IF

[Idea master]

Evil? You got it. Evil from beyond the grave? That's the order of the day!

Chapter Ten - Death is but a midway point.

"Spell. Shatter."

The dragons nodded and waited for Deemer's first move. Deemer grabbed the crystal around his neck and focused on the power deep within. Come to me, all ye that I have slain. Grant me thy power so that I may use it as mine own. All ye dead, arise!

The air around Deemer turned green and rancid as misty spirits were expunged from the crystal. They howled and moaned, swirling around Deemer, granting him use of their power, what they had left of it anyway.

Deemer thrust at the area his town should have been with one arm. The green vapors shot in that direction, then bounced off an invisible barrier. Deemer frowned and concentrated harder.

The vapors encircled the barrier completely, then squeezed. The sound of electricity crackling filled the air, as the two spells fought for dominance.

Deemer felt his life-force starting to go into the makings of his spell and quickly looked around for anything else that he could use. His eyes landed on the dragons nearby and with nary more of a though, he added their lives to the spell.

"Wha-...what is this?" The dragons started to become ever weaker and they didn't understand why. Slowly, they lowered their bodies to the ground, as they lacked the energy to keep themselves standing. Soon, their breathing slowed. Their eyes closed. And they quietly died with one name on their lips. "Deemer..."

He growled to himself. Damn it! The spell was still too strong! He needed something, anything! He opened his sack of supplies and threw in all the artifacts of power he could find, and still, the spell held! It seemed as though determined to claim his life.

Finally, with nothing else to offer it, and all the local life extinguished, Deemer's spell, which had at this point developed a mind and will of it's own, reached down and plucked his life away. But with nothing else to take, the spell exploded outwards. It could not accomplish it's objective, so it did the only thing left, it self-detonated. The artifacts of power reformed from the disspated energy and were spread to the far corners of the world, and the spirits were freed.

The spark that was Deemer's life struck his crystal about his neck, and though he was dead, Deemer got a most unwelcome visit in what he presumed was the afterlife.

"Where...am I? Wait, I can talk? I can talk again!"

"You most certainly can, my young vessel."

Deemer looked around the stark blackness. "Who said that? Who's there? Where am I, anyways?"

"This," The same voice said, "Is where you will spend the rest of your days unless you cooperate. This is the abyssal realm. And you are going to be a conduit of great power."

"I already was...say, you sound...familiar."

"I should hope so, perhaps if I said You're mine, would that help?"

Deemer flailed about desperately. "Then it's true! I've been taken by darkness! Somebody, anybody, get me out of here!"

"If you hadn't noticed, Deemer, you are dead. And yet, not quite. What I injected you with, long ago, was lich brew distilled, or perhaps enhanced, with essence of darkness. Combined with the One True Phylactery that you stole long ago...you're now one kick-ass lich."

"Lich? But I just want to be dead! I just want to be at peace now!"

The unseen owner of the voice chuckled. "Oh...that's the last thing that is going to happen for you. Right about now the humans and elves are taking your body and the heads of your dragons to their beloved castle in the far north. Once you've been entombed, you're to break free, cause mass terror and destruction, and head to the far south, where your general betrayed you. There, you're going to raise an army from the dead that will serve you eternally. You'll get your next set of orders then."

"But I don't want to do any of that! I just want to rest..."

A pair of red eyes shone out of the darkness. "Then I guess I'll animate your body. You'll be coming with me, I'll need your powers."

"What? Nooo-"

But when you're dead, nobody cares when you scream. They're all too busy doing it themselves.

-----

"Look, all I'm saying is maybe we shouldn't be giving this guy an entombment. Why are we doing it anyways?"

"So that we can be sure he's not faking his death. True, I trust the arch-mages, but we can't be too sure."

"What's left of them, you mean. Three of them died while fending off his spell, and the remaining two didn't look too battle-worn to me."

Words. Words trickling through decaying hearing devices.

Let me go, please. I just wish to rest...I just want to die...

"Still, those two most likely won't cast another spell. And why ARE we giving him an entombment?"

"Because he was different once. And maybe he isn't burning, wherever he is. Maybe he's learning the error of his ways and repenting for them."

How little they knew. How very, very little.

No...don't do it...please...

"All right, seal him up. We're done here."

"No, we have to put the crystal around his neck first."

The feel of power, so close...Almost too much to resist...

NO!

The masons sealed up the unknown man who fell too far into darkness, and just as they were done...the tomb exploded upwards in a shower of limestone. The three men fell back, coughing and sputtering, shielding their eyes from the dust. And then, something happened which shouldn't have been able to happen.

The body sat up. And though it hadn't decayed very much, the flesh sloughed off it and was replaced by a dark, shadowy covering. The eye sockets burned with green flames, and the skeleton held up a bony hand and arm and looked at it as it turned over.

"It's...*Cough cough*...still alive..."

The skeleton turned to the three men nearby, and it's new shadow-flesh grinned. "You three will be a fine start..." it hissed.

Screaming rang out from deep below the castle. They were only the start.

-----

It was a fine first slaughter. Twenty women, fourteen men, fifty children, six chickens, a pig, and two cows. With their skeletons, the lich had made a small army of loyal undead. Although he wasn't too sure about the one that oinked and mooed. He had been forced to run when the priests started to come out of the woodworks, though.

Now he stood at the ruins of Greensbough, many days later. Most everything that could have died, had, and the same went of things that were demolishable. It was a ruin of a town. He grinned. Perfect.

He would start anew from right here. There were enough bodies to last him a while, and when the time came for him to relocate, well, he had a few locations in mind. This body's old empire would have disbanded and might not re-swear loyalty right away. But it would happen, and happen soon.

"Gather resources," the lich told his minions, "And clear up this area a tad. We're going to begin again right here. We shall rise again."

Then the lich noticed a sword stuck in the ground. He picked it up, and it hummed with power. He grinned. An artifact of Power. Looking around with his magical senses, he noticed that he was at an ideal spot...he held the mighty sword in his hands, and letting power flow into both his hands, he snapped it in two.

The ley lines around him howled in agony as they were forced to shift and re-align. Held in place by his sacrifice of Power, the ley lines began to have an effect on this world...and outside it. Several more of those would be needed if the world was to shatter, taking what sealed it away long ago with it, unleashing an evil flood unto the mortal world. He wasn't sure how he could do it, though. Some artifacts were spread throughout the land as an after effect of the spell Deemer had cast. Others were probably being held by the humans. And still others might be buried in the underground realm that he once had dominion over. He didn't know what to do, now...

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
So. He's dead, but getting much better. And now he has more missions in mind.
On the one hand, he could go about pillaging the world for artifacts of Power, sacrificing them, and forcing the world to break.
On the other hand, skeletony as it, or both of them, might be, he could raise an army and still go about conquering the world.
Or there could be something else a newly raised lich could do. Solitaire, perhaps? The choice is yours!
F12
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[The White Blacksmith]

Ooh, I like that Solitaire suggestion.

No, I think he goes schitzo. Deemer's spirit keeps rising up in him at inconvenient moments, and when he's there he reverses all the things the Lich-dude has just done.

[The Meaning Of Fear]

Solitaire!

I'm pretty confused, but that's just me.

I reckon the Lich guy should go on a rampage, and destroy everything he sees, raise more undead, repeat. Oh, and try to find those artifacts while destroying stuff.

[Chinaren]

Build up your army of minions first says I.

[Idea master]

The targets of voting have been assembled, so shoot with the arrow of your choice now, if you please.

[The White Blacksmith]

*selects an arrow from the 'Something Completely Different' pile, shoots, and almost misses because of the little pig hanging on to the end*

I do hope that's my schizo suggestion...