The Saga of Tristan Wolfe.   Posted by Narrator.Group: 0
Narrator
 GM, 4 posts
Wed 16 Aug 2017
at 18:15
The Saga of Tristan Wolfe
The Broken tower has come to be your home over the years. Much of it remains sunken, swallowed up by the ever present Swamp. The exterior is draped in green and brown mosses that cling to the grey brick that continues to defy the ravages of the swamp and drizzly weather. It was perhaps a keep of some sort in its heyday. Its dungeon layers entirely flooded. But the upper floors and a singular tower has survived relatively unscathed. The interior is lit by globules of light that casts a slight eerie green sheen across the surface of everything. Undead specters roam the corridors wailing on occasion as they play out fitful scenes of their last moments of the massacre that claimed the keep. Undead servants creak and move through the halls with unwavering purpose. Resurrected swamp trolls stand guard ever ready to drive back the more dangerous creatures that lurk within the swamps.

Within the keep there is a sprawl of dormitories, a variety of alchemical laboratories and font of power that sits upon ley line energies. All readily accessible. Only the upper most floors of the tower are off limits to the students that call the keep their home.

There are four student necromancers in total that have all heard the disembodied voice of Master Kevros, urging them, guiding them. Like you they were drawn inexorably to the secrets of the swamp. What they found waiting was a place free to study the very stuff of life, death , undeath and the alchemy of eternal life. Kevros was strict but fair, everything done to exacting standards.

But your time has now come to an end. You face the final trial. The creation of a Wraith.

                                                           



The room was ready, the black candles were lit, the incense burners smoked in their holders.

The other Students sat watching in silent judgement. All wrapped in plain brown robes, gleaming eyes mirrored in candlelight; thoughts likely filled with hopes of your failure.

Kevros as usual stood tall. Some how having a looming presence even with his reed thin body. Dark eyes gleamed expectantly. His robes were ornate, a dark stained purple in colour with slithering symbols of sickly green moving across the surface of the fabric. Around his shoulders he wore decorative raven feathers which softly fluttered as he moved.

He gestured with long fingers at the slab of stone, which was prepared with ritual instruments and a carefully laid out Spine and ribcage. All the ingredients to create a Wraith were now at hand.

“Are you ready?” Kevros asked in a sharp tone that was edged with something demanding. “Do not fail me at this stage.”
Tristan Wolfe
 player, 4 posts
Wed 16 Aug 2017
at 19:07
The Saga of Tristan Wolfe
Tristan had been preparing himself for this day for months, the indications that his time in the keep was coming to an end growing ever more obvious. He didn't know what his final task would be so he simply studied all of his fundamentals and hoped he was proficient enough to pass his masters test.

A Wraith was a fairly complex undead to create. A being that bordered between the material and immaterial. It could be a powerful servant or a deadly opponent, sometimes both if their master was too weak of will. All the same he had to empty his mind of such thoughts and work solely on constructing the wraith.

He had been provided with an array of ritual tools as well as components. First he scrutinized the tools with his magical senses. As he had expected his master or perhaps one of the other students had cursed several of the tools. He undid their curses and then turned to the ritual components. The spine was from a human given its shape and size, they were still rather young from the appearance of their bones and the lack of abrasions from a hard life. The ribcage was clearly from a totally different person, a woman and most likely considerably older.

He would need to take into account their intrinsic natures in his ritual lest the corporeal components reject each other. Turning to the ritual area he scrutinized the basic ritual circle, intended to keep out interference from outside parties. He noticed that one section seemed unusual and when he looked closer it was drawn not with chalk but bone dust. Any rebound that the ritual had would blow the dust away, breaking the circle and potentially loose the wraith on Tristan. It seemed that his master wanted to stress his policy of never trusting someone blindly.

He removed the section and redraw it himself. He then began to lay out the actual ritual array. A purifying circle to increase the efficiency of the basic circle's filtering effect. This drew scoffs from Cain but he ignored them. He then moved on to his warding circle, intended as a second line of defense in the event something went wrong.

Nina spoke up.

"Afraid you'll fail I see. Pathetic."

Kevaros didn't speak in his defense but simply stood silently as Tristan worked. Finally, came the construction pentagram. In four of the corners he drew elemental circles as well as placed ritual items to anchor the concepts. He moved the corporeal components into the center and stood at the top point, his athame at the ready.

"Reach beyond the gates of the Underworld."

He ran the blade across his hand.

"Heed my command and return to this mortal plane."

He held it out and allowed blood to fall on the circle, a purple-green light rising up from the pentagram.

"I summon thee, spirit of the dead. Answer me for I am Tristan!"

A disembodied mass of spirits rose from the ground within the pentagram and began to writhe aimlessly, contained within Tristan's ward.

The blood began to flow towards the warding circle and formed another circle around it.

"For I am the cauldron of the soul, the alchemist of life. Be cleaned in my presence and reforged by will. Heed me and take form."

He repeated this three times, each time the ring of blood growing magically widen until on the third chant it burst into etheric flames and the writhing souls became one homogeneous mass of spiritual energy. Using a series of hand gestures, Tristan infused this energy into the corporeal components and gave it form by shaping it with his will.

Assuming everything went properly he would have a perfectly formed Wraith to command.
Narrator
 GM, 6 posts
Thu 17 Aug 2017
at 06:31
The Saga of Tristan Wolfe
With the culmination of words, gestures, blood and will the atmosphere in the ritual chamber changed. A haunting cold from beyond manifested and stretched out for warm life; ready to snatch it away. The candles were snuffed out with an almost violence that partially darkened the room. The edges of the circle were tested by a probing mass of frigid roiling darkness that swirled like a black tornado taking the spine and rib cage with it. The vortex of black tendrils suddenly reached  out for Tristan. The inscriptions held against the assault, glowing a dull purple in retaliation that caused the mass to shrink back to the cage of bone. The shadows roiled again as if in confined torment seeking escape.

Nina could be heard to sneer, but it held a jealous anger. She was no doubt scowling beneath her hooded robe.

The Spine and ribcage floated up off the altar, and started to turn black as if licked by flames. The bone then crumbled into a still visible shape as a humanoid body took shape. A distorted female face with a skull like appearance started to appear, seemingly missing a lower jaw but shrieking all the same as if freshly murdered. Tendrils like long wavy hair moved as if buffeted by an eternal wind .A glint of purple glowing eyes could now be seen, an intellect working behind them.  Clawed hands took shape and flexed. The lower body of the thing remained like an ever moving pillar of shadow.

The cold receded but could be felt coming off the wraith. It looked around studying everything silently. Then looked to its hands and asked in a hiss of otherworldly female whispers, “What have you done? Why am I here?” It flexed its claws once more as if it already knew the answer.
Tristan Wolfe
 player, 5 posts
Thu 17 Aug 2017
at 14:21
The Saga of Tristan Wolfe
Tristan kept his mind focused on the task and his emotions dampened. Lowering the athame to his side he spoke in firm and resolute voice.

"Heed me spirit. I am Tristan, your master. I have forged you from the Underworld. You shall serve as my Wraith."
Narrator
 GM, 7 posts
Thu 17 Aug 2017
at 15:41
The Saga of Tristan Wolfe
The wraith seemed to shudder as binding words were spoken. It let out an enraged hiss then seemed to nod solemnly. “Yes Master,” was all it said in a subdued  tone. The wraith drifted from atop the altar and stalked closer to Tristan as if testing the new form.

Kevros’ expression betrayed nothing. He gave a momentary nod. “Acceptable,” he said. Then he began uttering his own words. Incantations split the air, "Khetsaram sula qaziem suh soth!"  With each unknown word spoken the Wraith seemed to wince and writhe. The claws seemed to to darken as if afflicted  by some kind of green coating that smelled strongly of rot.

“Now then,” Kevros said. “Before you go you will need some soul potentiate to take with you.” He turned slightly and pointed straight at Nina. “She will do.”

Nina’s eyes went wide with a slow to dawn horror. The other two students got up and moved away from Nina in haste, not wanting to get in the middle of whatever came next.

Kevros turned to look at her. “I suggest you defend yourself my dear.”

Nina glowered straight at Tristan as she shot up from her seat. Near instantly psychic force moved to assault Tristan’s mind with specters of horror and a sense of doom at his inevitable defeat.