Ebon Skull Archives: Crossed Paths

From Atlantic Roleplay Wiki

This is reposted from OES documentation for the pleasure of the Atlantic Community. Stories by Nagash and Mortis of OES.

Crossed Paths - The stories of Nagash and Mortis

Nagash was born to a minor noble family in Britain. He was born with a caul, a sure sign that magic was upon him. Indeed, this seemed to be the subject that most interested him as he grew older and he studied with the best tutors his parent's money could buy. He was excelling in the field of magical healing when the disaster struck. One day when both he and his mother were in the local provisioneer's shop when his mother picked up one of the trinkets to examine it, the shopkeeper thought she was stealing and called the town guards. One of them instantly appeared by the power of Lord British's teleportation and slew his mother with one swing. Fury burned in Nagash's eyes as he tried something he never had before: he used his healing powers in reverse. The life drained from the guardsman and the magic left him a withered husk. Nagash fled before another guard could arrive. Wandering through the forest after he had left town for good, he spied a house with it's candlelight pouring into the darkened woods around it. As he approached the door, an elderly wizard flung it open. The wizard spied Nagash and instantly knew how he had come to be there, for he too was a practitioner of the darker side of magic. He invited Nagsh in and went to the back room to fetch a contract of apprenticeship, leaving the young man with the warning to touch nothing. However, Nagash's eye fell on a small black box with one runic word written upon it: "Mortis". The box seemed to call to some deep part of his mind, and he wandered over and picked it up. That mistake cost him his humanity. The evil spirit the wizard had trapped inside the box seized his mind, and whispered to him, on a whim, all the secrets of the dark arts known as Necromancy. Then the wraith told him of an artifact, one of such great necromantic power that others like himself must surely have gathered around it already. All this knowledge the shade buried deep in his mind, so that he remembered none of it except at the core of his being. He wandered away into the woods again, with the sounds of the spirit's revenge on the wizard in the background. But this time his destination was calling to him through his wandering, leading him always north.

Mortis had a life once, and memories. Or at least he thinks he did. The only thing he knows is that he is from a time before the dark age, before the kingdoms of Sosaria were combined to make Britannia. Since his death and rebirth as a half-spirit, he followed his whim wherever it would take him. He watched the events in the surrounding world with little interest, and had no long term goals. That was when he heard the call of the artifact. He didn't know exactly what it was, but it stirred something deep inside of him, pulling him ever onward almost against his will. Then he was transported to the home of an old necromancer by a certain spell he had learned to hate: Summon Undead. But it was if the artifact knew that he was being blocked from coming to it, and it sent him such a surge of evil power that he was able to break the spell of hateful servitude. But the necromancer had not grown old being a fool. From the workshop table he pulled a wooden box, with a single word scribed thereon in ancient runic script: Mortis. The box was so powerful that it was able to override the energy that the artifact had sent him, and he soon found himself trapped. Mortis, as he took to calling himself, does not know how long he was trapped in the box. The old necromancer knew that opening or even touching the box would release the vengeful spirit, so Mortis remained inside. The artifact still called to him though, and his undead mind was eventually driven insane by his inability to break free and find this wonderful thing which seemed to want him so dearly. This was his state when he was released. Breaking the long boredom and insanity of his imprisonment, he felt another presence then that of the old one. This one was young and filled with magic potential. As this new one grew closer to his prison, beckoned it ever closer until the young Nagash picked up his box. At long last, Mortis was free. He thanked his savior by supplanting in his deepest mind the secrets of necromancy that he had learned over his long life and imprisonment. Then he gave Nagash the call of the artifact to follow. After he had had his messy vengeance on his captor, he once again started on his journey toward his lovely artifact.