Fire swirled around him, exploding hunks of sulfur and embers pelting his body rapidly. He did not feel it. Flames flashed up before him in a renewed attempt to repel the intruder. A handful of ancient, arcane words, and the flames were smothered under a blanket of icy wind, clearing a path for the lone figure. The roar of the fire and popping embers masked the sound of skeletal feet clicking against the jagged rock, hid the advancement of the lich. Zaknafein turned his glowing crimson eyes up the jagged path, to where a handful of imps and devils hunched over a ledge, snarling and howling their fury and hate at him. One particularly broad-chested denizen leapt up into the air, wide, leathery wings flapping as it bellowed and raised its hands above its head. Energy crackled between the clawed fingers, pulsating between a malicious violet and dark red. The energy tore across sweltering, ash- and ember-filled expanse between the lich and hovering devil in a jagged bolt, blowing a path through the flames.

Zaknafein watched calmly as the trembling bolt of magic crashed against an invisible shield not two feet before his face, the angry violet and red splashing against a bright blue wherever it went. The lich raised a bony hand, extending one finger to point at the howling fiend. A sharp line of green burst from the smooth, white bone tip, cutting through the devil’s spell and arcing to pierce the beast’s heart. Violent spider-web lines of green spread across the broad-chested fiend’s body, coaxing forth an ear-splitting scream of agony. Then the cry was cut short, the denizen exploding in a cloud of green flames. The rest of the devils and imps snarled angrily at the lich again before turning and fleeing back down the other side of the sulfuric ledge.

“Minor pests; always in the way.” Zak cackled to himself, enjoying the carnage despite the delay anyways. His crimson robes whipping around him, the lich leapt into the air, a purely mental spell carrying him up and over the ledge. The jagged rock swept down from the ledge, narrowing as it went until it finally came to a single outcropping, barely wide enough for one person. Or skeleton, as it were. Zak strolled down the slope, his burning eyes focused exclusively on the alter standing at the end of the path. The structure stood just over six feet tall, and about half that wide, purely constructed from the bones of the Damned. For this was Hell, home of devils and the eternally suffering. Large, bone-made spikes rose out behind and to the sides of the alter in a wide fan, sporting various burn marks where the evil flames had rose up past the narrow path to lick at the structure.

Zaknafein approached the alter, a bony claw held outstretched to the figurine sitting abandoned upon it. It was a kneeling man, impaled numerous times from behind by a host of mighty skeleton warriors, wielding wicked swords and spiked armor. Zaknafein grabbed the figurine eagerly, his finger bones curling around it to blend in with the nearly identical pieces of the object. As his last finger closed around it, a deafening boom washed over the lich, demonic fire, lightning, and other magic exploding from the figurine as various protective wards were set off. The lich waited calmly for the smoke to clear, his arm still outstretched. When it finally did, it was to reveal that his skeletal arm had been blown apart at the elbow. Zak’s skull pivoted on its neck, turning a full circle as he peered around for the lost limb. Spotting the arm blasted against the fan of bone-spikes, the lich raised his other hand, snapping his fingers expectantly.

The separated arm wiggled free of the fan and dropped to the ground, rose up onto its fingertips, and crawled back towards Zak like a freakish spider. The appendage sprang into the air, twirling so that the disjointed forearm could join again with elbow. Arm firmly back in place, the lich once again closed his hand around the figurine, now devoid of any protection. Chuckling, the undead mage spun on his heel and started back towards his Gate.

<====}=0 – 0={====>

Waving his hands through yet another series of patterns, Zak watched as the myriad of runes surrounding the artifact flashed, their regular, constant blue glow turning golden for a moment. A small black hole opened in front Zak’s hand, which plunged in without hesitation. Or, rather than to say that the hole was black, it was better to say that it was devoid of any color at all; a void. Withdrawing with a bit of silver powder pinched between his skeletal fingers, the lich’s hand flicked forward, tossing the powder over the figurine. Slowly but surely, the undead mage worked, each added spell and ingredient working some change in the runes surrounding the artifact or the magical dome covering it.

Zaknafein had raised the undead before. More over, he had raised thousands of them. He kept a few hundred skeletons, zombies, and ghouls on standby alone. But this time . . . this time would be completely different. He’d raised powerful vampires, mummies, and more to his call, but now he embarked to surpass all of that. Now, he sought to increase his power, and expand his powers, as he had consistently done for centuries. This time, he would call to him an undead warrior that surpassed any vampire or skeleton he had ever called before; one that would be infinitely loyal to him. One that would easily dispatch those pesky adventures whenever they came to interrupt his work.

The figurine glowed, the light emanating from it masking the details carved into it. Zak looked around as the summoning neared completion, surveying all of his preparations one last time before his deadly new servant appeared. The lich stood atop a tall, wide plateau, barren and dead. Just like him. The sky above was heavily clouded, blocking out the starry night sky. The only light atop the plateau came from the glowing figurine, runes, the blue magelight hovering over Zak’s skull, and the brief flashes of lightning within the clouds above. Magical chains hovered above and around the artifact, ready to bind the summoned creature with a single word. And a red, glass-like sigil hung in midair, between the lich and figurine. Once the creature was summoned, Zaknafein would press the sigil onto it, forever binding it as his servant.

The figurine and runes pulsed again, golden light engulfing the area. It was nearly time. Zaknafein started into the final, summoning chant, sending his power out into the artifact. Tendrils of red and black snaked over the figurine, overlapping the gold light. Time seemed to slow down for the lich as he droned out the last words of the spell. The figurine exploded in a burst of red, black, and gold, the pieces bouncing back in on themselves as they hit the protective dome. And the light spread, past the dome, chains, sigil, and even Zaknafein himself.

The necromancer looked on unflinchingly, watching for the first sign of his new servant. And then he came, a dark shadow within the light. Zak barked out the command word that the hovering chains were waiting for, and the magical constraints shot in, wrapping around the humanoid form. His skull locked in a gaping grin, Zaknafein reached out towards the hovering sigil, resting his fingertips upon it.

“Welcome, my new servant,” Zak called softly, pushing the red, magical glass towards the form’s shadowed head, ready to brand it forever into the thing’s skull. And so he would have, had a bullet not shot out from the shadow and crashed through the sigil, shattering it to pieces. The bullet continued past Zak’s outstretched arm and hit him squarely in the jaw, spinning his skull around several times.


OoC: Hot damn, I got it up! Now, if you can post before the weekends out, I'll probably be able to get a reply in before Monday. Stupid school taking up all my resources. <<

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BAers: Due to technical difficulties, I cannot view your characters. Please email their profiles (not links!) to HXrisH@gmail.com if you're RPing with me. Arigatou. (Sig by Insaney)