Unto Thee, a Pariah is Born

[Sekot]

The air was flat and heavy, muggy and humid. The nearly full moon hung lazily in the midnight sky. A few wisps of clouds floated and flitted their way past it, not quite able to block its meager, ravaged light. Its twin barely peaked over the horizon, much larger in comparison.

A boy in his mid teens hardly cared for those testaments of the natural. He sought something else. Garbed in dark colors, he moved from grave to grave, making sure to keep himself silent and hidden from any eyes that may be prying that evening. His point of interest was a grand and elaborate mausoleum. It stood above the other graves, the headstones and and statues. It stood proud and quiet in the black of night. The boy crept up to the entrance, his hands running over the cold, cold stone.

His tongue moved in a complicated pattern, forming archaic words that held little meaning to those who did not understand the long forgotten art. The door trembled underneath his delicate touch almost imperceptibly. Runes seemed to appear on the "door". They gave off no light, instead they were visible by being denser then the surrounding darkness.

The boy pushed, but instead of the door moving away, his arm went straight through the stone of the building. Startled at first, he bit back a cry of alarm and took in a deep breath before stepping forward until he was past the false portal. Within, he was surrounded by no light. He could not see his own hand before his very face.

He whispered an incantation while raising his hand before him. There was a pop and then the darkness receded from his hand which was encased in purple flame. Knowing he had little time before the magical fire ate through the protective wards and into his soft flesh, he moved down the steps before him, down deep under the cemetery he had come from.

He came to another door, this one much easier to open, for it was unlocked and had a knob. He entered to find the room lit by an unnatural, grey glow. With a wave of his fingers, the violet torch dissipated. In awe the boy looked about the room. Lining the walls were holes and in these holes were stone caskets.

Moving from hole to hole, he placed a hand on each one, hoping to feel some kind of magic, some tingling sensation. What he felt was cold stone, colder than he thought possible. Though the room held no torch, had no windows, he could see. The caskets felt like ice, the air was no longer thick but thin, he felt that he had to manually drag in every breath.

He knew then that he was in the right place.

He moved to the center of the tomb, falling to his knees and bowing his head in reverence. Slowly he began to chant in a deep, guttural tone. He felt the words escape his mouth, swiftly losing control of his tongue as the words took meaning and shape. A five pointed star appeared around him, his body at the center. The air crackled and snapped.

The incantation was old, almost forgotten. It filled the air and chocked the air out of the boy's lungs but he still could not stop. He lifted his face to the ceiling, no longer sure if this was what he truly wanted. The powers, they were so strong, too strong for him. He had not trained himself fully, but he could not flee. Rooted, the boy was unable to stop the chant already begun.

There was a piercing moan, a rising cry from every hole. Stone grated against stone, mixing with the unholy words floating int he air. "So I free thee from thy cages!" the boy cried aloud, his voice harsh and dry. "Free from eternal sleep and now amongst the living once more, rise and stand to heed my bidding."

"Your.....bidding?" came a voice so cold that it froze the boy's blood. It came from behind him, but he refused to turn his head. He had not heard any movement, had not felt the presence of another.

"You are young..."

A shadow fell over the boy but still he did not turn. Now he felt the presence as it brushed against his cheek. Words were whispered into his ear in the same language he had used to summon the unholy creature.

"Inexperienced..." the voice rasped, sending a shiver down the boy's spine.

He felt a hand placed upon his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the ivory of bone. "My child, you have a.....gift.

"To...summon me so....was no easy...feat."

The shadow fell away as the undead abomination moved to stand before the kneeling child. It filled the boy's view, but still he refused to look up into the monster's eyes, or what was left of them. Something akin to a laugh escaped the monster's lips, a foul breeze.

"Come back....when you know.....more....and then.....shall I follow....you."

The undead departed like a ghost, leaving the boy alone within the tomb. It took several minutes for the boy to gather the courage to stand and then to leave. He felt drained and frightened, but determined. The monster had sparked something within him, a determination to better the other. The mocking tone was forever seared into his mind. It would be years before he returned, but he return he would.

[Hwem]

Wow! I love the story and I love the pace. Leaves me wanting for more. Good job.

I would drop the first paragraph though. Too many adjectives scream 'hobby writer'. Moons hanging lazily? I never really noticed the moon nailed down tight.

[Deleted]

Ooooo! A muggy night is a great setting for a ghost/horror story, even though you typically encounter a cold, rainy one. Humid, muggy, and a lazy full moon - excellent collection. Sets a good tone.

This is most likely a personal opinion, but I would've liked to see what sounds the archaic words would make. Maybe I read too much Lovecraft to appreciate the absence of bizzare languages and primordial incantations.

Invisible doors are just pure plain fun. Pretty original take on a source of light, too. The torch is often just accepted, but the idea of a mystical fire around your hand is badass.

Wonderful change of setting, but it felt kinda fast to me. I think a small interval while descending stairs would keep a slow and creepy atmosphere like you established. Also, "colder than he thought possible" is just so awesome.

The idea of air crackling and snapping is beautiful. But again, I have to ride your ass on knowing what these incantations really sound like.

The undead creature (I'm assuming it's a skeleton) could've had two improvements: 1) I'd like a slightly more detailed description, or at least more atmospheric feel than unholy, dark, and cold. 2) I think the creature's departure could've been a little more venomous, since it seemed to me it felt "You don't know what you're doing; go play ball, kid."

A couple grammar/spelling errors here and there, but hey, who doesn't get those? Just a few trips is all. Innocent, but if they crop up, it can really suck.

Vengeful ending. Hey, it's cliché for a reason: I'd like to see what happens. Effective hook.

[Orombur]

((Well Sekot, you've got me in too. After reading this there is a definite sense of wanting more. Unfortunately, there's no page for me to keep turning.

You do a nice job with the descriptions: I know enough to picture the scene yet you don't bore us to death with them. The character too is interesting enough. The fact that he didn't manage to actually "enslave" the summoned being on his first try was a welcome change too for stories such as this.

As Mac said, there were a few errors here. Other than that, it was great. I'm not sure what else there is to say.))

[o ding]

I read this a while back, actually, but I read it again just to make sure. I agree with Mac pretty much 100%.

On that note, though, the only actual error I noticed was in the last sentence - "It would be years before he returned, but -he- return he would."

Since everyone else sucks and didn't point them it out.

[The Timeless One]

((You better continue this. I am intrigued, Sekot, very intrigued. A few mistakes sprinkled here and there, but otherwise quite nice. There are flaws, but small ones and ones only you can find and fix for yourself. I have a feeling the quality will improve with each post...if you continue, that is.

As for the story itself, as I said, intriguing. You seem to really love your undead. Which is a good thing, because I enjoy the undead as well. There was suspense leading up to the confrontation with the zombie in the tomb. It seemed, though, that he almost had two personalities...one mocking, and one congratulating. Also, the triple dots didn't seem to have a pattern. You should still use them, but maybe add some sort of menace to it. You started it off perfectly. Here's what I would have done:

"You are...young..."
"To summon me so was no easy...feat..."
"Come back...come back when you know more...and then shall I...follow you..."

I understand that you gave him an excess amount of those because he's, well, dead, but I think a few times works as well. The "Your...bidding?" part was probably my favourite in the entire story, it fit in so well.

Really, continue this. I am interested in seeing what happens...next...))

[Sensar]

((

I must say, this was masterfully done with only a few errors in my opinion.

Aug 14, 2009 16:23:19 GMT -5 Sekot said:

Rooted, the boy was unable to stop the chant already begun.

This is a slightly awkward sentence.

But, wow, this felt like a short prologue to a novel. I want to keep reading to see how this world develops.

Great work!

))

[WJChesek ((Evern))]

It filled the air and chocked the air out of the boy's lungs but he still could not stop.

It was awesome! Except for, in my opinion, this part. Seems to me like you shouldn't have used "air" twice, maybe a pronoun instead. It chops up the flow, I paused when I read it to read it again, because of the odd word choice.

Other than that, great!

[Sekot]

A few years come to pass and the boy is now a young man. Seated at the edge of his bed, he stares out the nearby window at the sunlit trees. They stood there, taunting him. Silently he glared, his elbows resting on his knees, his chin resting in the palm of his hands. "Come back to bed, Luke."

Luke turned his gaze away from the window to look upon Jeremy, "Leave."

Jeremy's light blue eyes widened and his mouth opened to utter a complaint, to resist the order. Luke rose to his full height, his dark green eyes baring down on the other, his muscular frame imposing even without clothing. Jeremy instantly closed his mouth and quickly escaped from the bed. "Fine, fine," he muttered under his breath.

Luke softened his gaze and moved over to stand in front of his lover, lightly kissing him on the top of his head, "I'll give you a call later. I just need you to leave now. I have....stuff I need to do."

"Sure, sure whatever," Jeremy muttered again as he pulled his shirt over his head. "Just once I'd like to spend more than an hour with you with my clothes on."

"Later," Luke said as he opened the door to the bedroom.

Jeremy left without another word, leaving Luke alone in his medium sized, well furnished apartment. For several minutes Luke just stared at the nearest wall, his mind elsewhere. He was nearing his nineteenth birthday, it was now that it had to be done.

Rising from his bed, he then moved to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. He stared intently at his reflection, willing it to back down, to cower, to run in fear in knowledge of what he was.

"Come back....when you know....more."

Luke slammed his fist against the counter top, his head lowered, his body trembling with rage. He snapped his head up, his eyes ran down his lean, athletic build and traced the lines of the intricate tattoos that covered him. Jeremy, and all the others, thought they were "cool" and Luke always came up with some wild story as to what they meant. It was all lies because if they knew...

"I am....the giver of life to the dead. Kurthotiknor manacalin curutiq . Necromancer. Rem'Naruul."

The tattoos began to ache, to pulse. He felt them throb with energy and mystical power that none had known it centuries. "I am enemy of the Life Givers."

His thin lips broke into a feral smile. His short black hair swirled as if a powerful gust of wind had rushed through his home. His eyes darkened, deepened. His soul was bared to the mirror, and he could look deep within himself. Within was the power born after generations of incubation.

Tonight, tonight he would return to the mausoleum. He would take every damned man with him when he left. The voice, the voice that had taunted him for all these years, had created nightmares, would end at his hand. "I am Lucas Caravnian. I am a Necromancer. Enemy of the Life Givers. Rem'Naruul."

* * * * *

"Life Giver Kerone Carr, you are brought before the Council of Elders on account of your gross misuse of your powers. How do you plead?"

"Guilty."

"You have turned your back on the entirety of the Conclave. You have disobeyed the rules set down by Elders past. You make no attempt to hide your corruption. We as the leaders of the Conclave can not, will not allow you to continue down this dark path. You are hereby sentenced to a sentence of confinement until a later date where your powers shall be stripped and you will be put to death."



((Thank you all for your compliments. Much appreciated. This isn't quite as exciting, nor is it as well written. But I wrote myself into a corner with the beginning post so this is a necessary, but boring, evil.))

[Hwem]

I commented on the first chapter but I need to comment again. I am a bit confused about the setting. When I read the first chapter I thought I was in a fantasy world because of the inferred second moon in the sky, but then in the second chapter it felt like present day with references to the apartment and the word ‘cool’. Was this confusion intentional? Will Luke be going back and forth between universes?

Your poetic beginning to the second chapter says that the sun lit trees were taunting him.
Was he unable to chop them down at an earlier date? If you would clarify what it is about the trees or the sun that is agitating him then perhaps I could gain more insight to his character.

[Sekot]

You assumed that it was a fantasy setting. I never actually said what kind of setting it was meant to be in. And technically it is still a fantasy world. Just set in a more modern time than conventional fantasy worlds.

And with the way I write, I tend to string my characterizations along and I don't dump it all on you at once. You'll find out just why he hates sunlit trees, even though it isn't quite as simple as that.

[Arlyan]

Your imagination is impressive. I hope you keep this story going, it is very intriguing.

" 'You are hereby sentenced to a sentence of confinement until a later date where your powers shall be stripped and you will be put to death.'" This sentence is awkward, as were a few others in the second entry.

The main character is interesting as well. If I'm not mistaken, he's a gay necromancer, correct? (sorry if that sounds crude)
I'm interested to learn his history and future.

[Sekot]

Sept 14, 2009 12:53:52 GMT -5 Arlyan said:

Your imagination is impressive. I hope you keep this story going, it is very intriguing.

" 'You are hereby sentenced to a sentence of confinement until a later date where your powers shall be stripped and you will be put to death.'" This sentence is awkward, as were a few others in the second entry.

The main character is interesting as well. If I'm not mistaken, he's a gay necromancer, correct? (sorry if that sounds crude)
I'm interested to learn his history and future.

Yes, he's a necromancer who happens to be gay. And no, it isn't crude.

[Arlyan]

Sept 16, 2009 22:37:41 GMT -5 Sekot said:

Sept 14, 2009 12:53:52 GMT -5 Arlyan said:

Your imagination is impressive. I hope you keep this story going, it is very intriguing.

" 'You are hereby sentenced to a sentence of confinement until a later date where your powers shall be stripped and you will be put to death.'" This sentence is awkward, as were a few others in the second entry.

The main character is interesting as well. If I'm not mistaken, he's a gay necromancer, correct? (sorry if that sounds crude)
I'm interested to learn his history and future.

Yes, he's a necromancer who happens to be gay. And no, it isn't crude.

I meant my wording being crude, not the actual fact. I'm really looking forward to seeing more of the story

[Sekot]

The gates to the cemetery lay rendered and trashed upon the dusty path. The once bright, strong iron was now rusted and grayed. The twin moons were hidden behind a cloudy night, though their radiant blue light still managed to shine down from in between empty patches. Lucas stood before the gates, his eyes wandering over the weathered graveyard. The headstones that had once stood numerous in their rows like soldiers on a battlefield were now reduced to rubble and scattered everywhere.

He stepped over the broken gate and wound his way across the path, over vines and weeds that had grown within the cracks. His fingers brushed against those stones he passed, the cold transferred to his thin fingertips. His feet made not a sound as he walked, silent as those who were still buried six feet down.

Coming to where the mausoleum once stood, he stopped and looked upon the once proud structure. Pieces had been torn away in the years since his first foray here. The chiseled faces and statues lay smashed and beaten. Dead vines ran up the sides like fingers scratching at the walls. Luke had the distinct impression that something or someone had tried to enter this hallowed place and had failed.

Instead of calling for the door to appear, he simply waved his hand and stepped through the false wall. The magic that had blocked him before was weakened, whoever or whatever it was that had sought an entrance had almost found it, had almost succeeded in discovering the dark secrets that lay underneath. The necromancer descended, not bothering to conjure a light for his path. It was etched into his memory, never to be forgotten.

He moved with solid determination, his eyes unseeing but his step sure in its path. He walked straight past the tombs once he entered the catacomb proper, not bothering to see what wear and tear they too had received if any. He was not here for them specifically.

Lucas stopped once he had reached the center of the room. All around him was the stench of death, the aroma oh so familiar to him. He smiled and closed his eyes, basking in the gray, unholy light. Taking in a deep breath, he savored the tingling feeling of power that emanated from every corner, from every tomb.

Quickly he removed his shirt and pants and tossed them aside. Bare he stood, arms outstretched to his sides, fingers splayed wide. The tattoos on his body throbbed and darkened, swallowing the gray light hungrily. His eyes too darkened and swirled as the power he summoned was transferred out of his body and into his surroundings. Wispy tendrils creeped out of his flesh, twisting and dancing in the air like tortured snakes.

His body, now darkened by the magics about him, made not a move. But his mind worked to summon those wretched souls back to their earthly cages. He sought them out from deep within the abyss, he grabbed them forcefully and gave them an identity. Forcefully he took them from their ancestral resting places and locked them into the bodies within the tombs. Until all were once again bound to a corporeal form.

There was one soul that resisted, one soul he found he could not easily bring back to this world. It was what he sought, the one whose voice had haunted him. "Come," Lucas whispered, his voice commanding. "Obey."

When the final soul had returned to its body, Lucas ended the spell and his arms collapsed to his sides. He opened his eyes only to stare directly into the eyeless stare of an animated corpse not a foot away from himself. Startled he stepped back, only to bump into another corpse that waited behind him. Spinning, he realized that he was surrounded on all sides by those he had summoned. In different states of decay they stood shoulder to shoulder. Out of hollow eyes many stared, others through sockets, at him.

Lucas tightened his fists, unsure if he would need to lash out and end what he had started. Maybe he had been too foolish and had summoned too many for him to control. "Gurgthurok tono kulum."

The voice rang out through the tomb, it shook the very core of the necromancer. He recognized the voice instantly. He turned to face the direction from which the voice had come. Through the silent men and women that stood around him he could see one that stood out from all the others.

Before he could push past the wordless zombies, they all fell at once to their knees and bowed their heads. Lucas paid no attention, his stare remaining fixated on the most prominent of them all. The face was gone, only polished bone and empty sockets met his stare. Even though flesh hung in tatters from its frame, it still had an imposing air, a powerful aura that Luke tangibly felt.

"I see...you have returned. Stronger this time...too."

Luke bristled at the hidden patronizing tone and the unseen, but clearly felt, smile. "I command you to bow!" Luke shouted, his voice echoing within the tomb.

The skeleton merely stared back for several seconds. Now uneasy, Lucas' confidence began to waver, his hardened stare beginning to relax against his will. Underneath the unrelenting stare he could not stand forever. "You have grown, but not....enough. Though...knowingly or not....you have come to the right...place."

Every word came between what would be gasps in a normal living being. Every pause was like an intake of breath. So mesmerizing was the other's voice that Luke found himself inhaling and exhaling with the skeleton.