Prologue: A Man and His Story

A Chapter by JScottM

The dark house had always been an abandoned mess, grass a web, unknown monsters moving in the tangled jungle. It frightened children away and many of the adults never wanted to be seen near the creepy mansion. It had always been a perfect place for Lucion.

Candles flickered passionately in the clean cellar. He had specificaly left the floor level in it's old, grey dusted condition. It had been untouched for decades and with all hopes would stay that way for many more. In his little unknown hole, of which was created many years ago to withstand and siege, Lucion had lived for many years. He was the last owner since the long dead Carm family, of which had no heirs to such a spectacular place.

Lucion's quill scratched in long fluid script, pretty in a sort. Notes layed across the room, leather bound script written in his neat fluid letters scattered around, illegat documents on Summoning left dusty in order of catagory and usefulness. It had once shocked the old man how such an increadibly useful art was so restricted in a country where magic was so prominent in it's culture. All accept Summoning. Though he saw how the power could be abused, so couldn't all magic?

Finished with writing for the night, Lucion wiped the nub of his quill clean, capping the ink bottle before placing both off to the side. All he had to do was finish the end, and that was a simple thing. Though the start had been rough, he felt now that it was good enough for whoever would read such works.

Morning came on the next day, as it always did. The crack of the candle reaching the powder that created quite the alarm woke him as it usually did. Getting up was tougher each day. But today was the end. It would be his final adventure.

As he finished his writing, he stood, stretching. Excitement rushed through him again for the first time since he had stopped running. He was ready. More now than ever.

Daylight was bright as he walked out the home's front door, a grin stretching across his livered skin. The sun was so beautiful in the blue spring sky, hovering above him in all its glory. The smell of flowers of all sort reached him as he let nastalgia over take him.

Walking towards the castle he felt the rush of everything hit him, tears leaking down his bony cheeks and into his long silver beard. He hadn't done anything for the greater good in all his life. For the first time he felt like he was doing something right for the world. It was a good feeling that he wished he had had so many times before this.

People looked at him oddly as he passed, book clutched tightly to his chest. He didn't blame them though, considering just how out of place he looked in their high society. His old, liver spotted, pale skin radiated light as he shuffled along in his long grey robes. His untrimed beard and hair matched his bushy eyebrows that nearly covered his eyes themselves. His teeth were few in number now, hair falling out if you were to tug on it. A piece of his left ear was missing, though it was only the top half. It could of been worse.

There was no opposition to him walking in. All were welcome on this day, a day of celebration throught most of the kingdom. It was the day were you could ask the Royal King of Rotask anything and it would be granted if he accepted the conditions. And as he walked in, Lucion spotted Kiba Reze himself, his nemises' son.

It was an hour of waiting that the old man experienced. Farmer and beggar alike asked, and sometimes offered gifts. None held much importance, but the people had to try to gain favor. Names were introduced, forgoten, never to be heard of by the king again. It wasn't his fault; there was just so much to remember that he couldn't be responsible for forgeting some of those who he ruled.

Finally Lucion stood before him, grinning like the mad fool he was. He would probabaly die, but what could be said? All things must die. That was the first law.

"And who are you?" asked a squire, his annoying voice buzzing like pesstilants in Lucions ear. The question mad the old man sigh, wishing sometimes that he hadn't given up murdering people.

"I go by many names," his dry voice whispered. It resonated through the chambers, bringing a hush to all. "I am known as a, believe it or not, lover." That brought some chuckles from those who could see him, but he continued. "I was and will always be a scholar. Once, a warrior. A friend to many. But never a friend to your family, my King." Silence filled the room.

"To you, my lord, I am known by many names. Death, destruction, murderer, enemy, opressor, traitor. Many, I am sad to say, of theses claims are true." Looking around him, Lucion saw drawn weapons. "Simply put, your father and I didn't see eye to eye."

"I know the feeling, Enemy." Kiba's voice was powerful, but kind. Lucion smiled at how he said it, almost as if it was a question.

"One day, long ago, I could of taken that crown from your head even before you were born. Long ago, I was the greatest threat to your father." Smiling, Lucion knew he had to finish. "My name, Kiba Reze, is Lucion Reggit-Neveros. I was known in past times as Death. I am the Necromancer who destroyed half of this kingdom, and my gift for you is my story."