The Argonian Maid?...Nope!

Now, a little interlude about a necromancer who gets a new servant

 

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It was dark, but not night.

In an ancient ayleid ruin power shifted.

Shining crystals in the ceiling of a hall so high you coul imagine them to be stars in the nightsky spread like a wildfire, more and more of them lightening up, set on fire by their bretheren.



And if you had some knowledge about the stars you would recognize the patterns.

A darkskinned man in the robes of a mage stood on the floor in front of an altar, just not one of the normal making.

A cylindric stone monument reaching up to the height of the mans sternum with an iron grate on top beared an offering.

Spread-eagled there lay a khajiit woman, her eyes clear but already blinded by death as blood flowed from magical enchanted wounds into the darkness under her.



Around the room other bodies lay in a pattern, painting an inner and outer circle while undead servants stood beside them.

Their deaths had to be at an exact time for the ritual to work which the mage had found in ancient scripts, for their blood flowed in ducts on the ground.

Not that they formed any symbols of great beauty, no..



The blood of a member of every sex and species flowed, building up 12 circles, mixing and glowing first red, turning lighter until it was the same eerie light as from above, for there was the dust of ground up crystals enameling the inside of the carved channels.



Trees and flowers, formerly only dark imprints on the walls now started to grow and glow, delicately magiked to look lifelike until it looked as if you stood in the nightly woods, trees, ferns and other plants all around you, only strangely white-blueish glowing.



No words were spoken, the only noise was the breath of the necromancer, the rustling of the cloth he wore.

But just as one thought the ritual had stopped, the magic that filled the crystals rushed like a lightining bolt from the walls and the floor down the well shaft on which the khajiit woman lay and everything was dark again except some torches dimly lighting the hall, seeming like feeble sparks after this display of light and magic.



Only the undead servants remained in their place, the bodies of the sacrifies had vanished with the light.

Without any noise the spears which had formed the grate, retracted now as a platform was lifted from the depths of the well.

As the stone cylinder was some hands above the rim, a crack formed in the middle of it and both halves moved to the side.



An angelic body, silver linnen hiding its nakedness was unveiled.

Maybe it was the afterglow of the magic that made the skin so unnatural white, blueish and slightly glowing, the blond hair spilling over the stone on which the elf lay.



There had been only legends, fables and fairy stories about the ayleids, now there lay one, fresh as the young day.

Blue eyes slowly opened, a similiar sheen to them as to the rest of the body and a hand which has rested at the side lifted, moving up to lay over where the heart should have been beating.



Maybe the elf didn´t find what the hand had searched, but it didn´t show on the stock still features.

Slowly as if dreaming the body moved into a sitting position, hand still over the heart and eyes falling on the necromancer who stood in awe.

And who wouldn´t before this display of beauty and magic, hair moving in a ghostly breeze.



They stared at each other for no one knew how long, never an emotion crossed the elfs face, not even when it was splattered with blood as a leathery hand shoved through the back and chest of the mage, gripping a beating heart.

Only the voiceless question of 'why?' could be read on the features of the necromancer.



Legs swung over the edge of the well, the elf sliding from the stone and standing tall, looking around the hall as the undead creatures, dead elfen warriors the necromancer had taken from their tombs, kneeled in front of the fair beeing.



"Rest again in the deep chambers and wait for my call" came a surprising manly, strong voice to which the creatures obeyed, marching to a far wall where a tree had lit up, waiting as it glowed again and split in the middle, opening a passage way to the deeper secrets of Vilverin where they would rest and wait, wait for the call of their lord who had given his name to this stronghold, after his death.



But now there were things to do and people to find, maybe gods to slaughter, who knew?

The corpse at his feet was not gifted a second glance, walking with renewed knowledge to gather what he would need for his venture forth to the outside while gold and blue faded to black, silvery white to copper...





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Well I never did say for how long he got a servant...if you have been to Vilverin you know who the necromancer is, if not check it out..I found it interesting