The Life of a Necromancer- The Journal of Lot-Kro

[wizkid1696]

Background:

Lot-Kro grew up as a simple Argonian in the Land of Cyrodill. His father taught him all about the ways of magic, and its many wonders. His Father was a court wizard, and Lot-Kro’s life was well. Everything changed when the Authorities discovered Lot-Kro’s father was a necromancer. His father was executed, and Lot had nobody. His only possessions were his fathers spell tomes, and his staff. A necromancy staff. Lot’s only companions were the zombies he learned to raise with his staff, and eventually with his own power. He exacted his bloody, ruthless revenge on the Authorities of his town, killing the men who killed his dad in an adrenaline fueled rage of necromancy and conjuration power. He fled to Skyrim. There, he started a new life as a bounty hunter, based out of Whiterun. At night however, the thrill of necromancy still called out to him. And he could not refuse.

Restrictions:
Expert Difficulty
Must eat and sleep every day
Can only pick up 150 weight in equipment
No personal enchantment's or smithing.
No follower

 

[Dovakiin98]

This is good, I can`t wait for the first entry!

 

[wizkid1696]

First entry. I hope you enjoy it! And please remember, criticism only helps me!

-Turdas, 28th of Last Seed-

I awoke from The Sleeping Giant Inn, eager to get going. I haven’t performed any of my….art in days, and I could feel the itch under the skin. That burning itch for power, for control…..for necromancy. I accepted a bounty from Holda to clear out The Silent Moon’s Camp. These foolish brigands would be perfect. It is far easier to use those outcasts then citizens of Whiterun. Yes, much less risky.

After an uneventful trip to the camp, I summoned my conjured bow, and took the high ground. The first fool wandered out unto the open, unaware of my presence. I grasped my magic arrow, strung it, and let it fly. It pierced into his skull, silent as the night, and he dropped. No one noticed. Is this the time? I wondered. No. To out in the open. I would finish these fools off, then I could perform. The time for stealth is over.

I strolled into the middle of there camp. It was a giant rock formation, with a gargantuan set of steps, leading into an inner circle. There were 4 bandits. They all noticed me at once, and began there poorly-planned attack. One charged with a great sword, two hung back with bows, and the last was a mage. An Argonian, like me. Interesting. This would be quick.
I summoned an Atronarch and my bound sword. I quickly sidestepped the oafish Nord’s inaccurate swing, and tore my sword through his unarmored back. His very vertebrae snapped, and he crumpled to the ground. My atronarch was keeping the other 3 off my back. I sprinted up closer to the top of the stairs, and unleashed a fury spell on the mage. I could feel my spell eating into his mind, molding and twisting it to my whim. His pupils turned blank. He turned, and unleashed a fury of ice and lightning at his companions, burning them, then freezing them. There skin was ripped apart by his spells. They died utterly confused of what happened. It was beautiful. The look on there barbarically idiotic faces were priceless. The crazed Argonian turned to me, and only met his death, in the form of a massive fireball courtesy of my Atronarch. I searched the camp, and found only a book on smithing, and a scroll of necromancy. How fitting. The battle was over. It was time. Time to perform. Time to banish my itch.

I dragged all the bodies inside the stone tower. It was time to prepare the ritual. I arranged them in a perfect square, as I took my place in the middle. Night has fallen. I could feel it rushing up inside me as I prepared. The spell crept up through my very blood, and rushed to the edge of my fingertips. The adrenaline in my body shot through the roof, as I shook with raw power. The itch grew inside me, I could hold it in no longer.
I unleashed the spell.

It shot out in all directions, the magic wrapping and twisting it’s way around the corpses. bones cracked, snapping back into place. Torn flesh sealed itself back together. A rousing blue aura surrounded the bodies. Suddenly, they jumped into the air, levitating limply. There bodies snapped back into place, and they stood up. I controlled them, I made them move, and it felt so good. The void in my very being was snapped back full. I was in total control. I made them dance! Hahahaha it felt so wonderful! I was there gleeful puppeteer. And then suddenly, it was gone. My energy was depleted. There very corpses disintegrated into piles of ash, and I collapsed. Exhausted.

 

[perkecet]

quite difficult to read, try to break up the paragraphs. an extra hit of the 'enter' key between them does wonders.

 

[wizkid1696]

quite difficult to read, try to break up the paragraphs. an extra hit of the 'enter' key between them does wonders.

Oh dang, I just realized that. It looked better in word! thanks!

 

[wizkid1696]

-Fredas, 29th of Last Seed-

I awoke just as the sun was rising over the plains. My body was in a cold sweat, as I lay on the cold, hard rocks of The Silent Moons Camp. I coughed, and glanced around at the piles of ash’s around me. I was confused, then I remembered. I remembered the glorious night before. The night I cured my itch. That beautiful night. I made them dance! They were under my control! Alas, I could already feel the itch beginning again. Its gotten worse, quicker every time. But oh how great it feels. I could drink 50 bottles of ale, and the hangover couldn’t compare to the one I have now. For the love of Akatosh, make it stop.

I stumbled my way down the road towards Whiterun. As lucky as I am, I wandered right into a bandit ambush. I was so exhausted, I could barely walk! I used all my energy to summon the most powerful atronarch I could muster, and dove behind a rock formation. I could hear the screams from the bandits as my atronarch burned them to a crisp. But then I heard a bad noise. The noise of my atronarch exploding in a dance of fire. I could hear them coming for me. I regained my composure and rolled out from behind the rock, just before the Nord’s great sword smashed down against the earth.

I fumbled out a bound sword, and backed away slowly.

“ Why don’t we just stop right here? I can walk away, you can walk away, and we can live on tomorrow?” I asked. Although I already knew the answer.

“ I’m going to skin you Lizard!” she screamed, and she charged,

Still dizzy, I sidestepped her attack, and unleashed a gout of fire, burning her very face off. I chuckled at my handiwork.

“ I have scales, asshole.”

And just when I thought I could take a breath, the bandits patrol came back. 2 Nord’s and a Breton mage. I could barely even stand. There was no way I could go head on. I fumbled through my satchel and chugged a magika potion before they saw me. I heard there grunts, and could see them sprinting towards me.

The Nord with the war hammer seemed stupid enough, so I cast a fury spell, delving into his mind, and turned him into an animal. Well, more an animal than probably is most of the time. He turned back and decapitated his unsuspecting companion. That fury spell has really been paying dividends as of late. There was still the mage to deal with. I was exhausted, so I threw out another atronarch, and prayed he could do the job. Luckily, the weak mage was no match. I had won, somehow. Despite my exhaustion, the itch was creeping inside me. I considered it. But I could barely conjure a sword, much less perform my ritual!

With the bandits token care of, I made my way back to Whiterun, I could barely even move by the time I stumbled into The Bannered Mare, flipped my 10 gold to Holda, and collapsed into the warm sheets. I slept.