Setting
Crunch... Crunch... echoed the gravel as his thick black boots ventured further into the grave yard. By all appearances, this was an ordinary man curious about the events that transpired the previous night. However, a dark and insidious power resonated from him. Those who listened closely would hear the subtle yet dark whisperings of ten thousand phantoms. Dark power, of fire and ice, fear and shadow, death and chaos, clung to the man. An aura of fiery rage, dark hatred, cold sorrow, and endless suffering flowed from him.
He lifted his gloved hands to the heavens and stood motionless among the destruction. For a moment, it was as if the earth had ceased turning in order to observe the spectacle. The ground quaked and quivered from a mighty unseen force. Slowly the broken walls, shattered beams, and collapsed ceiling rose from their slumber. They spun and toppled, revealing the multitude of corpses beneath. With a series of terrifying crashes, the ruins were cast across the courtyard to make room for whatever devious plan the figure had in store. Dead eyes stared back at him.
"Rise, tormented souls! Rise from your sleep! Hear the call of your master! RISE!!!" his voice thundered.
A wave of energy erupted from him. It carried only a modicum of his dark hatred and fiery rage, but it passed over the army like a demonic inferno. As it washed over the corpses, they began to jerk and convulse as their spirits were chained - their minds shackled - to the will of the Necromancer. Tongues of blue flames erupted in their eye sockets as they were infused with his passion - his being.
The corpses slowly rose to their feet and gazed at their new master. They desired an order. Any order. Kill or maim? Destroy or build? Instead, the man in the trench-coat simply turned around and walked away. Both he and the corpses shambled into the darkness.
The wind itself seemed to pick up and swirl, dancing with the melody of the stranger's smooth voice. It was like life was breathed into Lectre Mansion, even from here on its outskirts. Leaves were caught in the sudden breeze, unkempt bushes rustled, trees creaked and whatever cursed creatures who called this land home began to stir. He stood a good stretch from the gates of the mansion, but he could just make the shape out. His painted lips creased into a wicked smile as he as took in its dilapidated beauty. He stepped forward and began to swing his ornate cane to and fro, while his other hand fished around inside his coat. He looked quite out of place here, and yet the mansion was already beckoning him with open arms and high expectations.
"She was beautiful and rich, dressed as fine as wine from Chantil.."
The ground crunched especially loud under his boots, the sound of each step of his awkward gait echoing through the entire forest. The sound seemed to wake the dense woods up, spreading more life through with each reverberation. The wildlife called and bayed, the breeze increased and the trees swayed harder. For too many years this land, this mansion, had been left to rot, that he felt the instant he set foot on this pathway. All of the festering and decaying, the anger at slowly being abandoned to aspects of time and neglect. Once this place was great, and it longed to be such again. Perfect for his needs.
"She stopped and moped about, and she went to leave..Her brand new heels snapped right off.."
It was a shame really, he thought as he let go of his cane, which remained standing straight up. This place had so much potential, and no one else was tapping into it? He closed his eyes and ran his fingers over one of the many hanging lamps scattered about. Instantly its light flickered a little brighter and the breeze picked up again, now nearly a storm. He shook his head and withdrew a cigar from his jacket's inner pocket. It lit itself as it touched his lips, and he took a deep, deep drag. The massive cloud of smoke that billowed out as he exhaled swirled around the lamp for a second before taking shape. The shape it took was that of an entire scene in miniature. There was a little river, and a woman on the bank holding her foot.
"As she stopped and swore, all her attention wrapped up in herself, two wolves came softly calling.." The smoke swirled again, now showing two large men in front of her, backing her down towards the river's edge.
He scooped his cane up and resumed his trudge to the gates of the forgotten manor. His singing now more rapid, his pitch raising with every word, and each time he exhaled another billowing cloud of smoke it swirled in to another scene. "She yelped and cried as they stepped closer, horrid demands dripping from their snarled jaws, the fear inside her swelling.." Again the smoke changed, the woman now panicked and loosing her footing, the men with wicked smiles, and the river running faster, hungry to swallow her up. "But alas the dear lass screamed and bellowed, to me she called, to god or anyone, save me!" The smoke cloud dissipated as he walked through it, now twirling his cane and again fishing through his pockets.
By now the local wildlife was starting to do more than wake up; it was taking an interest in his noise. Glowing eyes of all shapes and sizes, heights and placements, stared at him from the shadowy refuge between the trees. It just made his smile grow wider though. None of these mongrels had the courage to attempt taking his life, although if one did try he'd be quite pleased. Maybe reward it with zombification and service, or just eviscerate it. Either way he continued on, pulling a little satchel from his jacket. He poured its contents, a fine blue powder, into his hand and balled his fist up. His voice grew lower with each passing step.
"And with this her fate was sealed..For of course, you know, I answered." The next smoke cloud was merely a skull and crossbones, which made him chuckle. "Like a flash of lightning I appeared, I held my hand out to the lass and asked her ever so clear...'What is it you can offer me?'" He could see the gate to the courtyard now, so he released his cane once again. "Anything which you desire, the fair lass cried. Just my purity and honour, my wealth and my good name...And of course I was obliged.." He blew one final smoke cloud which took the form of a crying woman's face as his hand connected with the gate.
He raised his fist to his lips and took a deep breath, uttering the last refrain ever so gently. "I killed them both with a knife, and turned to her and asked just one thing.." He blew into his hand with all his might as his voice projected itself through the wind via magic. It echoed all around at deafening volume for miles. "Drown."
The blew powder shot from his hand with the roar of a white water rapid, as the particles slipped past the gates of Lectre Mansion they exploded into water, quickly flooding the entire courtyard. Dead center of the frothing tidal wave stood a pale woman, as beautiful as could be. Chains extended from his arms into the water but didn't seem to connect to much. She was crying, and angry-not that it mattered. Her will was not her own. Byron beckoned her towards the gate and begrudgingly she glided over to him, not making a sound.
"What do you say you open up this gate, my dear lass. We have a home to build!" Byron's speaking voice was as smooth and rich as his singing, and yet the woman shuddered at his every word. Nevertheless she pulled the gate open as she was bid to. He stepped in and patted her on the cheek, his long nails scraping against her skin. This was going to be a good century, he could feel it!
Lectre Mansion had new life, and a new owner, and the world at large had a lot more trouble than it realized. Yet.