by Zuka Zamamee » June 20th, 2007, 4:08 pm
((This RP is mainly for Zuka to become a demi-lich and has a relatively straight-forward storyline. However, it can be flexible if anyone wants to introduce anything))
Jade lightning bolts shot across the obsidian sky of P’leik as the ground rumbled and shifted, forcing mountains to rupture from the ground, faults to split wide open, and canyons to collapse violently. The negative energies of this realm made it unstable at best, always chaotically shifting when one least expected it. It had taken Zuka months to grow used to the turbulent realm, but when he finally did, he embraced it as a normality of life. It helped to keep unwanted visitors away and offered unparalleled seclusion. Both were perfectly fine by him.
Seated on the obsidian skeletal Dark Throne of P’leik, Zuka of Telemnar was an imposing figure to behold. His undead sights remained transfixed upon an unseen object as he telepathically lorded over his realm and commanded his fearsome hordes. Though his face was placid and devoid of any emotion, his mind was just as turbulent as the realm itself. He plotted and planned for the future, devised tactics and strategies for upcoming wars, but most importantly, he devoted the greater portion of his mind upon the Ritual of Change.
He sought not to become a lich, an undead spellcaster bound to the will of the Lich King, John Irenicus II. Instead, he sought to become a demi-lich and to retain his own freewill. The process was dangerous, though, and the necromancer knew it, but the rewards far outweighed the risks. Finally, he decided that the time had come.
Zuka called upon Kaz’kulga, Ceris, Mimmukarr, and Gorothal and related to them his decision. The hordes were to continue their preparations until the Ritual of Change was completed. From there, he would decide the next course of action. Next, Zuka headed to the underground labyrinth of the fortress and called for his seven greatest necromancers: Kersael, Kune, Mekleth, Zhogar, Suhani, Tiulikr, and Corellon.
Zuka and his seven necromancers returned to the Throne Room, locking the thick obsidian doors behind them. It was here that a great evil took place, one that Zuka had rarely done before. The seven necromancers were drained of their blood one at a time, then forced to drink the blood of Zuka from his undead wrists. By the end of the hour, they were fledgling vampires, and Zuka ordered them to return to their quarters and report back the next week. The great necromancer then sent several of his agents into the Material Plane, each entrusted with a certain task. They all returned within the week with everything he asked for.
When the vampires returned the following week, they saw that Zuka had indeed been busy. Eight amulets, each holding a red soulstone as a pendant, and a phylactery containing the necromancer’s soul were laying on the top of an oak table. An ancient staff, whose origins remain unknown even to the most knowledgeable historian and the most ancient Elf, was lying next to the table. Zuka then revealed his plans to them.
“I will entrust each one of you with an amulet carrying one of my soulstones. So long as any of these soulstones remain intact, no harm may befall my phylactery. You will take great care of them; die for them if you have to.â€
He then led them into the Throne Room, carrying the staff, phylactery, and the eight amulets.
“There are seven portal chambers surrounding the Dark Throne. I will send each of you into them. They lead to tiny sub-realms within the Astral plane. You shall never again face hunger, thirst, age, or the like so long as you remain there. Once you have all entered, I shall seal them shut with great magical seals that shall never again open, except from the inside or from the very staff that I hold in my hands.
“To ensure that none will ever open the seals, I shall hide this staff. My most loyal and trusted commanders will safeguard it with their lives to ensure that none endanger you or my soulstones.â€
Zuka then handed each of them an amulet, keeping the eighth for himself. Then, taking the Takrin staff in his hands, he muttered arcane words and channeled their energies. Suddenly, the seven portal chambers sprung to life and created portals, each brimming with shimmering arcane energies. He bid each of them a final goodbye and watched as they entered the portals.
When the last vampire had left him, he sealed the portals shut. The necromancer walked to the first chamber and ran the staff over a specific rune. Arcane sparks flickered as an energy barrier formed, effectively forming the magical seal. He repeated the process for the remaining six chambers before traveling to P’leik’s barracks. Once there, Zuka called two of his trusted officers together: a vampire, Abhorash and a Pit Lord, Nechrarch. He gave the vampire the staff and a final mission.
“Abhorash, Nechrarch, I entrust you two with this staff. Take it to the deepest depths of Baator. None shall ever find it there, but you and your comrades should not take that fact for granted. Guard it, and guard it well, for if this staff is found once more it might be my undoing. Now go, the two of you.â€
When they had left, the necromancer then commenced the Ritual of Change. It was a moonless night in the Material Plane, just before midnight, and he had plenty of time to spare. He sacrificed a virgin Moon Elf in the name of his patron deity and drank her blood. When he had finished, he drank the venom of five Emperor scorpions and waited as their effects took place. He quickly ordered an undead servant to dig a thirteen-foot hole while he waited for the venom to take effect. When his body was lifeless, the servant buried him thirteen feet beneath the soil next to his phylactery. Zuka remained there for a full lunar month before his corpse was recovered.
But Zuka was not a lich, as many had expected…he was a full-fledged demi-lich, free to do whatever his own will told him to do.
In a fit of insanity, he slew his undead servant and several other demons. Growling to himself, he took his phylactery and returned to the Throne Room. There, he recovered an exquisite box from under his Throne and placed the delicate phylactery inside. When he sealed the box shut, a magical enchantment suddenly came to life. Zuka smiled to himself…or what would pass for a smile, for he no longer held any skin. His phylactery would remain safe within the box so long as the soulstones remained intact. He then stored it safely underneath the Dark Throne in a hidden compartment, where no harm would ever come to it…or so he hoped.
Now was the time to forge new armor. While the blacksmiths were busy forging the armor from darksteel, a variant of steel darker than onyx and slightly weaker than mythril, Zuka gathered several key components for his new armor. He took a dagger and headed to the dungeons. There, he found a young, virgin female elf and began to cut the flesh off of her, ignoring her painful cries and pleas to stop. Next, he traveled to his alchemy lab and gathered the hair from the mane of a unicorn, a component that was gathered from an agent earlier. While there, he ordered several servants to grab dozens of vials filled with the blood of elves.
Zuka returned to the Hellforge with the ingredients and began the dark ritual of binding them with his new armor. The darksteel was interwoven with the unicorn’s mane and the elf flesh, effectively rendering the wearer immune to horror and fear. In fact, Zuka enchanted the armor to reverse those effects, making him even more courageous when the odds were against him.
Then, the armor was brought out of the forge and allowed to cool. Once finished, he placed the armor in a coffin and poured the blood into it. He allowed the blood to soak into the armor before taking it out to dry. Finally, Zuka had the armor brought to his Well of Souls and fused dozens of souls into it, which would effectively render him immune to death spells.
Finished, Zuka ordered his servants to place the armor on him. The demi-lich was pleased. It fit his skeletal frame perfectly and would serve to protect him from any conceivable harm. He returned to his Throne Room and walked to the balcony overlooking the courtyard of P’leik. He could see countless undead, demons, and abominations preparing for war, as per his orders. All was going as planned.
Satisfied, he then turned his attention to the Material Plane. He could never risk leaving P’leik again, for if his soulstone were lost, he could face possible doom. For that reason, he began to search for a suitable host to corrupt and possess, a host that would serve as his harbinger.
A suitable host, bound in shackles and chains and carried by a Pit Fiend, was brought to him within the hour. He was a muscular, middle-aged man with a cropped ruby hair, fiery emerald eyes, and a stubbly beard. Zuka growled in approval, and the Pit Fiend released him. Still growling, Zuka planted the seed of corruption within the man’s heart. His base desires of lust and greed were perfect roots for the corruption to sprout from, and within minutes his former self was erased, replaced with a replica of Zuka within a different body.
The harbinger was then sent to the Material Plane to foretell of his master’s coming.
“Behold, ye mortals, for Zuka of Telemnar, The Destroyer, The Lord of Destruction, and the Dark Lord of P’leik, has risen from his slumber! He shall come soon to smite all who oppose him! Those that join him shall be rewarded greatly, and those that stand against him shall die a terrible death! The tides of war have come once more. For whom shall you fight?â€
As quickly as the harbinger had appeared, his body disappeared in a brilliant flash. In order for word of war to reach all, the harbinger had to be constantly moving.
From the Dark Throne of P’leik, Zuka of Telemnar, the Lord of Destruction, smiled to himself. Indeed, all was going as planned…
Last edited by
Zuka Zamamee on August 8th, 2007, 11:08 pm, edited 1 time in total.
My SignatureI am the freezing touch that takes life away,
I am the one whose soul is unclean.
A master of dreams, awakened to the night
I haunt the Astral and reap the mortal lifeThrough the moonlight's mist
I enter your soul
Which withers from purity I defile
I am the Darkness, the Night that lasts foreverThe Lich King
Lord of P'leik