102 Power And Pride (2/2)
”And my family has long kept our ability to speak to each other mentally a secret. We have a family... tradition of replying audibly if one of us speaks out loud. In the distant past, we did it as a defense mechanism, but now our defense mechanism is reverting to our inaudible language, and speaking aloud is the default. Times have changed.” Milene mused, seeming to find some sort of comfort in speaking with me mentally. I grinned. And then I readied myself to speak aloud some more.
”I know that you are chatting amongst yourselves.” I said to the dark elves, revealing my newly gained knowledge of their defense tactic to keep their thoughts and impressions a secret. This caused them to turn as one at me and stare at me in primal terror. I was delighted to realize that they must not have heard Milene explain their familial gift to me.
”My offer is a generous one, my friends. I offer you power at no cost to yourselves, a chance to increase your prestige in the city, and increased access to pleasures accessible only to the wealthy. I am also willing to give you more if you would but surrender yourselves to me and free those you mistakenly consider your property.” I told the dark-elves, speaking soothingly to them.
”Why should we, a people of darkness and cruelty worship a god of goodness and freedom?” Asked one of the dark elves. She was a sibling of Milene, and she stared furiously at me. I chuckled and looked her in the eyes.
”Do you truly believe me to be a god of goodness and freedom? I am, by my own admission a god of undeath and necromancy. Are those good things to you?” I asked the outspoken elf. She kept her gaze locked on mine and spoke with a steely tone.
”In my eyes, you are at most a god of disease, light, and liberation. Your opposition to us is based on our practice of slavery, and you possess... powers over light and disease. I admit you are a god, I find... stating otherwise impossible. That said, I see no evidence that you are a god of necromancy.” She said, practically spitting the words at me. I chuckled, as she made a simple but good point.
I stretched a hand out to my right and closed my eyes. As darkness enfolded me, a familiar view came to dominate my mind's eye: the not-so-mini-map. I studied it for a moment and then targeted all of the corpses situated throughout the family's holdings.
There were only a few corpses in the area worth targeting. Whatever the family did with the corpses it inevitably acquired was unknown to me at the moment though I could wager a few gruesome guesses. That said, I effortlessly created a number of motes of unlife energy that at my command would infuse corpses and bestow them with an unholy, unlife.
I paused for a moment to consider what to do with the corpses. I knew that I was targeting dark elves, and more than that I was targeting dark elven relatives of the family whom I was courting. That meant that I ought to show them the elegant nobility undeath offered by bestowing their relatives with the classiest forms of undeath possible. That really only left me with a single option.
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Houses throughout the city of Aronms tended to contain two levels. One of the levels was customarily built within the unyielding earth and stone of the cavern that housed the city rather than atop it. This subterranean part of a familial home was typically where the dead were stored. And this tradition was common among both the nobility and the common dark-elf. It was also upheld by the nobility of the Ardor family.
Three corpses, ancient dark-elven corpses to be exact, were laid to rest within ornate sarcophagi within the crypt that was itself located in the lower level of the estate owned by the Ardor family. Invisible motes of potent unlife energy descended into the luxurious crypt that housed these once-mighty dark-elves.
These motes were undeterred by physical obstacles. They had sunken through the floor beneath their creator with eerie, supernatural ease and ethereally inched closer and closer to their destination: the dark-elven corpses. When they reached the corpses they were created to animate, they did so in a flash of motion and activity.
The corpses they infested and reinvigorated slowly began to reanimate. The dark-elven corpses were still and stiff as the energy the motes were made of began to circulate through them.
Normally this process took a number of days. And normally it was a significantly painful one for those who were returning from the dead. This time though the creature who was orchestrating the process was a god. This afforded the privileged dark-elves who were defeating death, years, and even centuries after their deaths, a painless and speedy reprieve.
In a matter of moments, the three corpses moved as one. The first thing that they, the ancient and almost forgotten leaders of a family with a history spanning hundreds of centuries, did was open their eyes.
Their eyes were no longer the colorless orbs of living dark-elves. Instead, their eyes were vivid, colorful orbs, orbs the color of the fluid they thirsted for: blood. And then they slowly and carefully moved their arms. They were delicately testing their muscles. The almost pitiable creatures were confused and needed a few moments to orient themselves but even in such a state they were wise and were quickly adjusting to the bizarre reality of their new unlives.
All three of them remained entombed within ancient and richly decorated sarcophagi. When they possessed their wits, something even the youngest of them hadn't possessed in centuries, they began to act beyond the strange reflexes they had been imbued with.
Their first order of business was to escape from their lavish coffins. And to do so, all they needed to do was move their powerful arms and push away the lids of their coffins. Which they did a minute after they were reanimated. The three ancient dark-elves then proceeded to push themselves out of their laying positions and take stock of their surroundings.
It was at that moment that the dark crypt that stored their corpses lit up. A scarlet portal had been created by the same entity that reanimated the corpses and was waiting for the trio of noble undead to step through it.
An otherworldly voice whispered into the minds of the newly reanimated dark-elves and informed them of the purpose of the portal. This news, caused the trio of ancient leaders to smile. And then, as if controlled by a singular puppet master, the trio stepped out of their coffins and walked into the portal.
The ancient Ardors stepped through the portal and in doing so were smoothly teleported from their crypt to a place that reeked of the unclean stenches of the living. Their abrupt appearance in the crowded bedroom that temporarily housed Althos and the living heads of the Ardor family elicited gasps of shock, terror, and delight from the occupants of the room.
Althos, their reanimator, looked at them and smiled. They smiled back. The god had reanimated them from a distance, and while doing so made them into unusually sinister and intelligent undead.
Althos looked back at the same dark-elf who had spoken out of turn before. He spoke haughtily at that moment.
”Does my ability to reanimate your long-dead ancestors from a distance and create a magical portal that brings them to us sufficiently prove my powers? Or need I do other... crueler things to prove I am all I say I am and more?” The god asked, a playful smile on his lips.
His creations turned to their descendants and smiled. Their grins revealed their elongated canine teeth, a feature that was one stereotypically thought to be possessed by all vampires, and one that all three of Althos' newest minions now possessed.
The living members of the Ardor family turned from staring at their newly reanimated ancestors, to stare at Althos. He was looking at them with a look that clearly communicated that he was aware that this was his victory. But he didn't rub it anymore. Instead, he spoke with focus and ambition.
”Imagine... The power to overcome death. To live forever.” He told them, his eyes sparkling with pride and ambition.
”Come. Serve me. Surrender yourselves to me and never spend another moment afraid of mortality.” He whispered, his voice taking on a singularly seductive tone, but not a sensually seductive tone. A corruptively seductive one.
While he spoke he felt the emotions of living dark-elves surge into him as his powers brought more hearts to his worship. This brought a new, and dark grin to his face.
As a way to demonstrate his powers and his goodwill, the living god targeted all of the living dark-elves in his presence and bestowed upon them the necromancer class. As one they closed their eyes and shuddered in delight as they felt dark new powers seep into their souls, sinful magic staining their already stained innermost essences.