Thread: Stolen Bones [Alakazam & Grungeknuckle]

Montoumala. A city, on a city, on a city. Built in the middle of a massive swamp, the only structure placed on stable ground was the fortress itself. And when the village that sprouted up around that fortress had finally sunk into the ground, they laid down new roads, and built a bustling town on top of it. And when that sunk into the ground, they built a city on top of that. And when that city sank, they built an even better, bigger city. And gods and devils damn it, that city fucking stayed put! The closer to the middle you get, the more the streets seem like bridges, running from cluster of buildings to cluster of buildings. In many places, the older cities and towns have been excavated, so you can peer down, and see where the original village melds with the stone beneath. Elsewhere, the old roads have become a series of tunnels, streets beneath streets. And all of it is used. Shops, smithies, merchants, even whole families, living and working and playing beneath the earth, dancing between the shafts of light from above, going up and down and all around the city, brimming with life. This is Montoumala. This is my home. This is where I hide. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Samuel had not come from a wealthy family, but he had come from a very large one. They had all lived in the same city, not Montoumala, another one, to the south. Five aunts, four Uncles, twenty-three cousins, four sisters, two brothers, and his mother and father, all living in the same place, the same section of the city. It was like they had a small town of their own, within it's walls. And all of them were gifted with the Light, each in their own way. Priests, paladins, white magic wizards and sages, prophets, and speakers of holy words, these were the ways and walks of Samuel's family, this is how their bloodlines had been blessed. Except for Samuel. Try as he might, he had never shown any sign of being gifted, being more than a mortal man in terms of insight, or magic, or supernatural skill. And yet, this mattered not to those around him. He was brought up in a climate of kindness and understanding, taught the importance of accepting others, that the evils of this would need not be combated by steel and blood and hate alone, but could be abated by forgiveness, by fairness, by honesty and morality. So, he had trained to aid others, in what ways he could. He learned the art of herbalism, and potion-making, to heal the afflicted with natural remedies, to harness the innate magic of the plants around him, and use them to the benefit of others. Joining his siblings, Samuel had a short stint in the military, learning how to wield a simple weapon, and acting as a healer. It was there he had his first encounter with death. It was there, he found his true calling. Somehow, the essence of light and life that ran through the blood of his kinsmen had been... corrupted? No, that's not the right word... Reversed. Yes, for him, it had been reversed. Instead of wielding the light as if it were part of him, Samuel discovered his natural affinity for necromancy. How he could feel the power of the undead, manipulate it, use it for his own purposes. But he was still the same man. The same man who valued kindness, compassion, and peace. He was intent on not following the same bloody, violent path of other necromancers. He would use this dark magic as a tool, prove that it could be used to aid mankind, and not just blight it. But then again... His family might have understood, and accepted him. They might not have. So afraid of what they might think, Samuel never gave them the chance to decide, and left home, quietly, secretly. He hid himself away, in the darker corners of the world. His small row house was one of them. A minute, skinny building, in one of the deep alleyways beneath the city, two stories tall, with a cellar. Few buildings had those, Samuel was lucky in that regard. He had just stepped out of his home, locking the door behind him, and wrapping his old leather coat around him, though the weather was quite comfortable. He'd be gone for the next few hours, wandering the forests and swamps surrounding the village, collecting herbs, looking for caves, and if possible, bringing back something dead.