The Undiscovered Country

Go West, Life is peaceful there

In restless dreams I walked alone**
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
’Neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp

Mortimer flicked up the hood of his midnight coloured robes. The fire was the only light available, but it was enough. He studied the spellbook of Acererak but the spell that caught his eye was destroyed by the ravages of age. It was one of the few things that moved him to curse. You had to be careful cursing as a necromancer, it can have quite a more practical effect than when a civilian expleats!

Mortimer sat under a canvas alone. They had left the city, left the pub, by an enchanted canvas, he’d have prefered to study the canvas but it had been in Tuwakin’s possession since they got it, now the Goth girl had burnt it, if she wasn’t careful, burn the pub as well… and Mortimer had no confidence she was careful with her spells.

That was the problem here wasn’t it? Spell caster couldn’t be trusted, they all used Tenser’s flawed old notation, the wizards here weren’t as excepting of modern ideas as Master Burns had been, they wouldn’t invent XML for a thousand years….

In that moment Mortimer felt a stabbing pain of guilt he had never experienced before, so much so he slammed the spell books, not bearing to look at them. He should have insisted Burns come with him, and Rufus… there were banishment spells available. He could have made him.

I turned my collar to the cold and damp

Mortimer flicked his heavy hood back over his head as the night turned cold.

He should have stayed in the city…

He was a defender of a capital city, it was what he knew, the central citry had always been under attack, countering siege warfare was what knew. Using the undead against marauding armies was what he did! He should have stayed in the city and trained their wizards to create and endless army from the ranks of the fallen.

But he had left. Why? He’d left because he felt guilty to Tuakin. Except he’s done what he must for the war effort, The man controlling the cities draconic assets was one of their most key military assets! He could let them die…just not at this stage.

He looked up at the canvas that covered him strung between two trees, proper 13th company, basic provisions… once again the Private when he needed to be the Wizard. Those outside were not The Undying, they were perfect strangers… Jack,he was a fast friend, Tuakin – seemed to forgive him his actions in the tower, seemed to forgive him healing his mortal enemy, but who indeed where these other to presume upon his powers? An obscure young elf, a silly girl who thinks necromantic style and magic is a fashion statement? FFS! She would never be fit to truly wear midnight!

He should have stayed in the West.

He shut the spell books, rolled the scrolls he had been copying.

Really he knew very little of the ‘army’ he now fought with. He should be showing the human army how their fallen can be their next reinforcements.

This party wasn’t the13th however… he wasn’t going to be their “get out of death free” card, and he wasn’t going to be a magical taxi service, he was one of the most powerful Wizards in region.

But what did that mean to the east?

He could acquiesce to all the new parties wishes, sure, it was within his powers, but who was this group to expect servicest of him?



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