2013.10.11 - The Nature Of Power

Ireland 1694 ADE

Necro had been attacked while experimenting in 'consecrating' a given area to herself by using the devotion of her minions and followers to grant herself a form of 'holiness'. Being able to create her own 'places of power' would have been very useful for maintaining her energy levels instead of needing to retreat when she ran out of stored mana. A necromancer -- a mortal one -- had apparently been tracking her movements for decades, and had struck while Necro was directing the ritual. He had attempted to steal her powers, as though she were some lesser undead. She rebuffed his attempts and they engaged in sorcerous battle. The blonde-haired man had been fearsome, and Necro's lich body had even taken damage, but ultimately the necromancer's cleverness had failed before his elder's, and a greater command of magic, superior tactical knowledge, and a lack of susceptibility to pain allowed Necro to overwhelm him.

"Marcus Cranston," he had answered upon being told to identify himself. Necro had not killed him yet. She stated, "You will serve me, Marcus Cranston." Marcus, fatigued, injured, and bound by magic that would not let him slip away as he had done several times during the battle still seemed confident in himself. "I will not. Even if you slay me, my own death magic will prevent my reanimation against my will. You paltry skeleton! My powers are greater than you imagine!" Empty eye sockets, fleshless features, ghostly flames streaming from a blackened skull, revealed no emotion. Still, somehow Necro seemed amused at the response. More than just her form was different from a living human's over three centuries after her transformation. Somewhere along the way, her MIND had started to change as well. And not for the better.

"You have knowledge of magic, but no power to speak of. I once thought spells equalled power, too, when I was alive. I have learned much since then. Do you know what DOES equal power?" Necro did not even need to move or cast or order it. Undead and living servants both stepped forward and raised a collection of unpleasantly bladed instruments in preparation to strike. "Power. Power equals power. Profound, yes? However, the type of power does not matter as much as one might imagine. For example:" The servants started stabbing Marcus over and over. To his credit, the necromancer did not scream at the pain immediately. "...At this moment power takes the form of the patience to wait until you agree to let yourself be reanimated just to end the pain, and the ability to withhold death from you until such occurs." Limbs were broken, ribs were snapped, organs removed, all the blood in his body poured out, and no matter how bad the damage, Marcus could not die. Necro would not allow it.

"A vast array of spells is not enough when your opponent has a vast array of spells AND an immunity to DYING." After hours of torture, Necro asked Marcus, "Are you ready to serve now?"

He nodded yes to the best of his ability, no longer having the capacity for speech.

He was finally allowed to die, only to be brought back.

Then, at Necro's order, he told her where he kept his laboratory and the wealth of mystical artifacts he had accrued.

Including a certain Cauldron.