Classings in the world of magic is to show the paths one can take without trial and error though not official by the world's standards. They are building blocks for anyone out for trying.
The common is mana mage, better known as novices of the arts, uncommon are elementals, and pseudos. Rare well.. Those who explore the ruins know those classes. Such as enchanters, and runecrafters.
By Oscar Lepo, Scholar of Arc Dum.
His consuming became a bad habit, thank goodness he was undead or he might have been labeled clinically insane for craving the flesh of the living, more so humans.. not to mention his raise dead skill was proving very useful, but it was much harder to level up than normal. More often than not he had to rest and regain his Mp to continue his army growth. Houses grew fewer and soon he found himself next to a vast graveyard. Only a stone with iron fencing separating him. With the command of his Death knights his undead stepped up and got on fours. Their fellow undead did the same. Until a staircase rose over the fencing and lowered like some bone bridge.
Chuckling at his loyal undead and without even commanding them he stepped on to the rather sturdy bridge of undeath. Crossing into the graveyard. Upon doing so a snap of energy locked onto him. His senses picking up hundreds, if not thousands of undead. Finally a strange notification swirled into view. Bluish sparks flaking at the screens fringes
[[Special Event]]
An army awaits your command both dead and undead. Now is your chance, push past your barriers and call forth your true legions!
Dead line: 1 Hour
Penalty: You'll be considered a disgrace to those willing to rise. You'll lose your status and die where you stand at their wrath.
What the hell?! Is this what a lich is? A king of undead? Should they fail their fate is sealed. Wouldn't that mean.. Duth panned his skull from side to side eyeing the Death knights who in turn eyed him with more than loyalty. If he didn't know any better they were reaching for their weapons.. It might just be an illusion.. It has to be.. R.. Right?
Oh.. I see. So that's how this is. A test, should I fail, I will be taken out for my misuse of power. That is why Liches are amongst the rarest to encounter. It's a test and sentence, not just against your undeath. but also your soul, your afterlife.
He felt this had more complications to this. couldn't imagine his own troops turning on him. He now had nearly four hundred, a mix of bone, withered skin, armor and swords upon those risen with them. Not to mention the higher undead Death knights.
[Dead line: 59:34]
Okay, okay.. I get it, time started.. Yep..
How would I do this, I can only raise 10 per. Granted it did say I must break the limit. So what would that require? More Mp?
Unfortunately when he tried the skill denied the extra mana and hell it even denied to work. But there is no other way to raise the undead, how could he do so? With no skill he has nothing, but raw material and the system who denies to work in this situation.
[Dead line: 57:22]
Was he abandoned just like that? Like a puppy dumped on the side of the road? Was he to perish for simply not completing this quest? By what means did he need to raise them? He needed to rethink what he knew about the system. After all it was a tool, a helping hand.
Duth stared contemplative into the skies, baffled and confused by this. He will surely fail, without Mp the possibility is simply negative! To make a spell to raise so many would be astronomical in Mp cost. Not to mention the cost of SM and let's not get started on time of how long that would take to create?
Much research and failures surely!..
Necromancers normally used a mix of magic and mass. Wait.. he is a lich. Ones of great power who do not need a systematic tool to rise legions. They do use the same concept, but don't normal liches raise armies whilst using pure necron? The same wicked flame that envelopes his victims is a decaying fire?
He extended his hand and called forth the green flame trying his best to control it and strictly force the undead to wake in mass.
That simply failed, the necron sizzling out at the collective will of this damn graveyard. It felt like many eyes were on him, the mounting pressure making even his bones creak, whilst there seemed to be an aura from each grave. Giving him the impression they would arise purely to slay him. His Death Knights seemed much closer to him and the hostility wasn't lost. Every minute showed him that if he didnt do this now, his fate would be far worse than any he has killed.
Given the seemingly ghostial rage, it is likely he would be dragged into the dirt and ripped into, physical, mentally, mana based and then eventually his soul would be torn apart. Not sent back, but torn to pieces. Where did souls go when they died? When they shattered? He didn't want to find out.
A flare of anger caught him, his necron energies blitzing around. He demanded them to wake angrily, yet nothing happened. Well not quite, that's when it struck him. Anger drained, replaced by pure realization. Because during his outburst he used willpower to shout at them! They not only used necron, but willpower. Just like kings rally armies under their willful assertive tones and power. Same applies here. Looking over at his SM. A possibility crackled in his eyes, a spark of an idea!
Walking till he could only sense nothing, but undead for miles. Duth rose his boney hands into the skies. Mustering his courage and willpower, the surrounds dropped in degree by many folds. Whilst necron energies gathered around him wildly. The air seemingly roaring with a muffled thoom!
His SM began to burn however, fueling an oncoming scene that would defy what he should be able to do. Yet will power was moldable, it just needed a greater backing to make it manifest!
Once slow, now burning like vast wild fires. He injected command, power, his very will into the spell and emotion to try and really connect. To which he felt a roar in him, affecting the fabric of reality just enough.
A requiem roared from him, a spell flickered into existence before fading, only to repeat..
"Come, Dare you sit in your graves in anger whilst mortals stomp on your grounds? Come to your king, for we The Dead grow weary from countless millennia under the abusive boot of life and together we shall conquer all who stand in our way! Those who dare rip us from out eternal rest, rise from your graves as undying warriors and find your stolen glory! Find your once forgotten power, take up your sword for our Wrath. Has. Been. Stirred!"
…
….
.....
Silence permitted the grounds, dark thunderous clouds roll across the skies slowly. A slow build up rumbled from the dark clouds. Necron energy thrumming and humming softly as it flowed along the blades of grass. A tremor shook the very ground.
Small cracks expanding across miles of graves. Green flame crackling from the gravestones, crimson lightning arcing across the darkened skies as the liches voice thundered across an entire city. His voice containing ancient characters and pure intent, winds howling of ghoulish rage. Yet there stood more than rage. A king has risen amongst them, they too shall rise! They too will take the ancient old mantle of life! To stand amongst the living, to draw swords and face their fated foe!
In an instant, hundreds... No tens of thousands of graves shifted as skeletons broke from their earthly binds. A groaning grumble clattered from their jaws and bones. Green flame raging across and engulfing the entire graveyard.
Vortex of hurricane speeds churning up dirt and burning away the life of plants. Many men saw this, not just Adilen who looked terrified yet awe stricken. His troops who felt a dreadful pressure fall over them. Lark who watched a vast tornado spin up within the city. Now second guessed his decisions, so did his bandit forces. The empire far away marching ever closer feeling as if a dark age is fast approaching. Their bodies began to shake uncontrollably, they had to stop and stare with festering fear.
And finally Huron and his friend stared at the pillar of flame and wind. Its weeping rage echoing across the city and chilling every living man, women and child. they stopped moving towards the front. It was simply too mind boggling not to stare at. No man, no creature could resist it. Before it begun to waver and collapse a collective boom shook the city to its foundations. Many buildings near the graveyard collapsed, whislt deep cracks expanded out with a shifting grumble. The ground rose and fell before silence came once more.
Adilen frowned before falling into a chair with a concern he couldn't easily displace. A defeat in his tone..
"Dark days are upon us, an undead king has just woken his army.. The city is lost"