Thread: ~ Cost of Immortality ~ {DarkRiffs}

Carnallure had paced impatiently about the foyer for nearly the entire morning, the stupid guard had made a mistake in timing and had left him outside for the entire night, such idiocy would not have gone unpunished, had he not had a job that is.It was just about dawn when the guard raced to let him in.Our apologies lord Carnallure, there was a mix up at the watch, it will not happen again the guard said, bowing deeply.Carnallure's unamused look turned to a smirk as he stepped into the grounds.It's quite alright, I'm sure if you value your wife and daughter, you'll make sure it doesn't he stated with a smile before stepping across the grounds.The guard had been lucky they let him in before the sun had fully risen, he had a rather nasty intolerance to the blasted rays of light, they made his skin crawl and itch, then again decades spent in dark study tended to do that to a person. His cold jade eyes scanned the gardens wet with dew as he stopped to pick a rose, chuckling as he strode to the nearest servant girl, slipping the rose between her cleavage before he strode off, leaving the girl both confused and blushing.This best be worth it he grumbled sourly as he began the climb up the stairs to the castle proper, a long trek to be assured.It's not my job to quell rogue necromancers he spat irritatedly, going off on a tangent to himself and the air around.I should have his damn first born for the effort of even coming.There were various kinds of Necromancers, as there were various branches of the art.Some dabbled in undeath and undead servants, others in using the bones of the long dead for other purposes.Some studied arcane lore, imploring hexes and curses to inflict terrible malady on the victim, but he was a little more subtle.Carnallure was a student of the least known or popular of Necromantic branches....Blood magic.The primal art and base for all other Necromancy was the sacrifice of blood, both his own and others to obtain effects and the like.Indeed his body showed the grim price of his art.Jagged scars crawled around his wrists and forearms like the web of a spider, the lines of which had long since healed over into an ugly lot of scar tissue. The night had been warm, and so he had dressed light, completely devoid of a top to cover his chest and arms, his pale skin reflecting the dim twilight of dawn, shadowing out the patterning of scars upon his body, an archaic pattern that served purpose only during the blood cleansing, an activity that took place once yearly in which the practitioners of blood would sacrifice a virgin female and shower under the blood, letting it fill the deep cavities in the scarring and cleanse them of all impurity. Panting he reached the top of the stare well, his long brown hair splayed about his face and shoulders in a thin layer of sweat as he took deep breaths.This way Mi'lord the gate guard said, escorting Carnallure into the castle and to the kings private study.Your majesty, the disciple of blood has arrived he stated, bowing before shutting the door, leaving Carnallure with the king.After a few moments of silence he spoke, in a tone that could freeze ice and shatter a mans hope, it was indeed the voice of someone who meant business.Now them, sire.What is it of my services you require hmm? he said, stepping into the room and gazing about absent mindedly.Perhaps you wish extraordinary abilities?....or require some sort of concoction? he spoke, lowering himself into the chair opposite the king.All he had been told was that the king had a job and was willing to supply whatever he needed.