Elsewhere things look grim. It seems Pantariste's apprentice Andromedeia managed to repel the barbarian invasion or the enemy simply bypassed her, but I am afraid she will no longer be so lucky.
The Tower of the Androphags has fallen and the young apprentice has only a secondary tower to fall back on. For one of her skills, she has managed to amass a surprisingly formidable force, but her enemy is approaching with a troop of creatures not native to Elysium. Summonings of some sort, most certainly.
I fear that my ally may soon be no more.
*****
Elsewhere, Cernetu has been busy in the northeast. After reanimating the dead from the battlefield he discovered, he used them to conquer a mine from a bunch of dwarves. He has continued to take over a nearby hamlet, but going east, he seems to have run into another ambush. The northeast seems to be a vey wild and untamed area and I must have Manvale and Sethan search for a more direct route so that Cernetu can be more easily reinforced.
Myself and Gunthamund, we have explored the southern areas close to the village and battlefield. Gunthamund is slowed down by the soulless he gathered at the battlefield, but he must have protection if he is not to share Childerik's fate. He has discovered a library of magical learning, but it is heavily guarded by a detachment of mercenary soldiers.
I discovered a watchtower, which allowed me to gain a better idea of my surroundings. Now that I have finally managed to amss sufficient hands of glory, the tower is also the perfect spot for my Ritual of Mastery, because it provides a defensive position.
The preparations for the ritual were elaborate. Nearly twice as many hands of glory as for the summoning that brought me Cernetu. In this, the tower itself was an invaluable help. Instead of a flat pattern on the ground, it was possible to place the hands of glory in a spiraling funnel that would better focus the power of the ritual on myself.
Once the arduous checking and rechecking had been completed, I waited for the dead hours of another moonless night, with only the stars shining down from a cloudless sky. I began the chants I had learned through long study and knew by heart. One by one the candles held by the hands of glory were lit and the power began to build. I climbed the tower, touching flame to each wick in turn and when I reached the top, I stood at the apex of a funnel that would channel the power through me.
When the wicks burned down and lit the hands themselves, all one hundred and fifty of them at the same time, the spirits that had been gathering rushed in to consume smoke of the burnt offering and whispered the secrets of power to my ears, the price extracted in return for their feast.
It was hours later that the hands had burnt to ash, the swirl of Netherworld spirits gone with it. I closed my eyes and called forth the new knowledge given to me. No mere Necromancer anymore, but a master of my craft!
I spoke the words the spirits had branded on my mind and felt the tingle of my flesh, then drew my knife and stabbed it through my hand, yet all that I accomplished was a dull thwack, the point unable to pierce the skin. Another incantation sent a rime of frost running across the beams and planks of the wooden tower, spreading far and wide and giving off a chill as if of death itself. Great tools indeed, but no gift these, but a purchase paid in full...
Now, it is time to begin the next step on my journey. The knowledge of a necromancer gives the tools to turn oneself into a blooddrinking immortal being, a vampire, a mighty warrior in addition to the necromantic powers. However, there are other, superior options for the kind of master necromancer I have become. To become a lich, to leave behind the fetters of mortality and realize the full power of the necromantic arts, that goal is now within my reach! It will be a long and arduous process, more so than this trial has been, but it is a step that not only asks to be taken, but MUST be taken!
The cost, though, it almost beggars belief...