Emillion Mods (emillionmods) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-06-14 19:40:00 |
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The ritual was complete. The murders across the city were a dark portent of things to come, and the fell magic summoned and set loose on the streets was derived from a grimoire most ancient. A knight walked in a slow dirge down the sidewalks of Rue Vaneau, his ancient armor in ruins, the meat on his bones drawn to rotted sinew and his flesh shriveled and leathery. Through the eye-holes in his helm were naught but two single lights, the fiery colors of a soul bound to its decaying flesh. The undead knight followed the command of its unseen Master, pressing on in a grisly forward march until it would be met with conflict. The greatsword in its hands was rusted, sullied by dirt and the passing of time, but the creature wielding it was more than dangerous enough, the many brothers of its former company lingering not far by. Among these undead numbers were mages also, their robes in tatters, their ruined faces drained of natural life. Holding high their arcane staves, magic swirled about their forms and allowed them to rise above the helmed heads of the knights, searching the city with glowing eyes. Dangerous were they who could cast spells even beyond their death, who were without free will or conscience, or memory of former life. Through the narrow alleys and up above the roofs hung ghostly specters, gliding in the air, their bodies naught but vile apparitions of Mist. Fast and vicious were these ghouls, who searched with the speed and voracity as only those without the limitations of former body are able. The undead spread further and further through the District, and any fool caught in their path was likely to meet a gruesome fate. |