Post by thecrimsonraven on Jun 7, 2009 10:25:28 GMT -5
"Be careful you worthless flesh sacks!" Was about the only sharp echo raised through the desolated ruins of the old church. Long fallen silent save to the choir of night wind howls; the decrypted place found itself visited by not 3 ghosts; but 4 undead. Shaking his head and nursing a head ache; Hazaar had managed to summon three of the least competent of his zombies for tonights particular tasks. The assumption was that moving a fallen mosaic wouldn't be too complicated a task to leave them with while he scouted around. Finding only owl droppings and the occasional leaf ballet, stirring in the chilled evening breeze, he returned to find that one zombie was in half, another trapped under a pile of roof tiles and the third had managed to loose both his arms in the rotting wooden rafts that barely could hold themselves up.
A fleeting thought passed his mind to stop all his necromantic pursuits in favor of opening a zombie based traveling circus. He dismissed this notion very quickly after looking again at the state of his once unattended minions on the simple grounds that: "Stupidity isn't funny." Holding out a hand, a snapping of his slender fingers banished the zombies back to their ethereal storage with an overly dramatic poof of dust. Their "Grrrnaarg" of protest being suddenly cut off. Still, under Hazaar's arm was held one part of his prize this evening: a rather methodically designed liturgically book. Though it's rubies and opals have long since dropped off into other hands; the delicate gold leaf and pain-staking hand written pages peek out from it's tightly bound covers, still intact and glistening in the moonlight.
The sounds of the city and howls in distant alleyways did not distract the necromancer. While his creations has failed to move the rotting mosaic; they had managed to uncover most of it from an entombing of dust and moss. Running a green painted fingernail down and along the tile mosaic; Hazaar brought up the book he'd found, flipping it in mid air to open on his palm while he continued to study the self pious patterning of the long abandoned cathedral. Leaves, fallen in through the massive gaps in roofing, dragged themselves around the turned up stone floors and scratched their way around the corridors, but not even owls were roosted in this place to distract the studying Hazaar. It wasn't long before he was referring to the text before him, throughly absorbed in his work.
A fleeting thought passed his mind to stop all his necromantic pursuits in favor of opening a zombie based traveling circus. He dismissed this notion very quickly after looking again at the state of his once unattended minions on the simple grounds that: "Stupidity isn't funny." Holding out a hand, a snapping of his slender fingers banished the zombies back to their ethereal storage with an overly dramatic poof of dust. Their "Grrrnaarg" of protest being suddenly cut off. Still, under Hazaar's arm was held one part of his prize this evening: a rather methodically designed liturgically book. Though it's rubies and opals have long since dropped off into other hands; the delicate gold leaf and pain-staking hand written pages peek out from it's tightly bound covers, still intact and glistening in the moonlight.
The sounds of the city and howls in distant alleyways did not distract the necromancer. While his creations has failed to move the rotting mosaic; they had managed to uncover most of it from an entombing of dust and moss. Running a green painted fingernail down and along the tile mosaic; Hazaar brought up the book he'd found, flipping it in mid air to open on his palm while he continued to study the self pious patterning of the long abandoned cathedral. Leaves, fallen in through the massive gaps in roofing, dragged themselves around the turned up stone floors and scratched their way around the corridors, but not even owls were roosted in this place to distract the studying Hazaar. It wasn't long before he was referring to the text before him, throughly absorbed in his work.