Snippet #1420565

Standing on a small mound in the middle of the encampment, Allister looked as though he was conducting a large orchestra. He directed several large groups of necromancers and undead to equally large circles. They stood at attention, watching, until he was finished. "My acolytes," he called out over the din, "Today is a great day. Because today, you will each kill and raise your own army, and spread our disease across the land." His eyes grew colder as he continued, "The princeling has dared to claim ownership over one of our own," there was mutterings among the gathered army, "You may know her as Mouse, the faithful guard of the prince." Several hoods began to bob, knowing her, or her reputation. "Acolytes," he called out to them, "Nay. From this point on, you are all Masters of the Dark Arts."

His hands burned cobalt blue, and each of the necromancers, within the circles, all gasped and doubled over, as a brief flash of pain flared in their hearts. They each felt their hearts slow to a crawl, then stopped. Many began to panic, but before they could cry out their feelings on the matter, they all began to feel their hearts pulsing, but extremely slow. They looked about themselves, at others, and found that their eyes began to glow the same phosphorous glow that his did. Soon, a great roar erupted from their chests, all giving gratitude to him. "Now go, Masters of the Dark Arts. Go, and infect the land with our disease. Make them suffer." He watched, as each circle began to glow, and heard their fervent chanting. As a final gift, he had given each a simple trinket for emergencies only. He knew that they would run into complications, and made sure that they were given something to retreat to.

Watching as great tendrils of magick appear from the ground around them, made Allister wish he was going with them. Unfortunately, he was needed here, and needed to prepare for the ritual to come. A ritual, he grinned slightly, with which he will gain tremendous power. Sighing softly, he watched as the final group vanished, and, turning to a different group of acolytes, he shouted, "Raise the shield," and watched as more than two dozen of his acolytes chant over a large cauldron. A cauldron, which was filled with nothing, except for the souls of ancient kings. These souls, each filled with anger and vengeance, erupted from the cauldron, howling towards the automatons that stood waiting for them near the cauldron. Each automaton sprang to life, moving and twisting, cracking and popping their joints, as though waking from a long sleep. They began to move slowly, heading towards the edge of the forest, and mountain, where they stood still. As one, they raised their arms slowly, then slammed their gauntleted hands together, creating a small, violet orb of energy from the center of their chest. The orb, then, began to stretch over the encampment, creating a massive shield around the manor, tents, and cemeteries.

Sighing softly, he turned to see an acolyte running up to him. "Jaara, is it?" When he received a nod from the robed necromancer, he said, "They are here, are they not?" Jaara looked up at him, but not daring to look directly into his eyes, "Yes, master. The Liches are waiting for you in your crypt." Nodding slightly, he began to traverse the encampment, towards his tomb. However, he stopped before Raja's tent, and entered it. "Raja," he whispered, "bring Mouse. Our guests have arrived, and we must press forward with the plans."

Raja stared up at him, hesitant to speak, but at Allister's short nod, she asked, "Who is here, Ali- I mean, my master?" He looked down at her, his eyes commanding her's to look into them. Her form became rigid, and she began to shake with an intense fear. When he spoke, she felt her blood run cold, "Who, my dear Raja? Why, Lich King Searent, and Liches Tohmas and Jarob. They are here to reverse the spells on the holy sword," he rattled the sword at his side, chuckling softly. Looking down at Mouse, he said, "We shall be needing your strength as well, Mouse. As you are an important person to us all."

He exited the tent soon afterwords, not caring for their replies. Traveling towards the tomb, he was stopped multiple times, but for little things that seemed to make him pleased. He helped with some of the newest recruits' spells, directing them towards other masters, when the questions became too much. Smiling at each of them, he left to continue his short walk towards his tomb. Once inside, the air became colder, and he could actually see his breath upon the air. Smirking slightly, he walked into the inner chamber, and found the three Liches, each staring at him. "Do you have the sword?" Said the taller of the three. When he nodded, the Lich King turned and pointed at the altar behind him. "Place the Holy Sword upon the altar, and we shall begin preparing."

Nodding slightly, Allister walked slowly, ceremoniously, and placed the sword upon the altar with great care. He noticed that the sword began to glow an intense gold color within it's sheath, and grinned down at it. "Soon, little sword," his whisper slowly drifted through the air, "Soon, you shall be like us." From within his chest, his insane laughter threatened to erupt, but all that escaped, was a slight chuckle.