King of Bones

         Aric closed his hand around the star, feeling the warmth, stealing the warmth. Stealing everything around him. His mind sharpened as he stole the life from around him, and the smell of death suddenly became all too prevalent. He grinned a sickly smile as more of the townsfolk stared in shock while the very essence of their being was pulled to him.
         They collapsed in droves as he calmly stepped toward the town center. His magic held no quarter as it traveled around each person, pulling them into the ground. The screams began as the lifeless bodies arose, snapping and biting at the living. Mothers leapt upon their children with a ravenous hunger as fathers held them in place. Birds began to fall from the once clear, blue sky as an eerie green pall fell over the town. Dogs, cats, and other animals convulsed and purged their insides, the unholy necromantic magic forcing them to obey and accept undeath.

         He paused at the town center and allowed the once proud people build him a throne of fresh bone and flesh, most with muscle or tendon still attached. The undead ripped clothes from their unholy bodies, picked at still squirming corpses while they tried to rise themselves. Bone after bone went into the gruesome seat, some with a hard clack others with a sickening squish. Aric rested his head upon the bloody seat as he leaned back, allowing the deafening screams of some of the townsfolk who nearly escaped help him drift off to sleep.

         Oh how he slept, and dreamt. Dreamt of covering the world in undeath, in creating an army of his own, an army to combat the Paladins, to destroy their Orders.

         Aric awoke to the undead kneeling at his throne. All the town had been turned and was now waiting patiently for a command, his command. He opened his hand and looked upon the once glowing star, now a purplish-green and releasing a slight cloud of dust. His grin was pure evil, pure hate. Pure malice. The star had been turned with his necromantic channeling. He could create his army.

         He could build his kingdom.

         Bring his dreams to reality...

         A sudden annoyance caused an itch in the back of his mind. East! The thought had come and disappeared all at once, "East?" He asked aloud, matching his puzzled tone with an equally puzzled expression. Then, all at once, the undead rose, faced east, and began to march. Clarity had replaced puzzlement. Aric grinned and rose from his gruesome throne as the undead continued to march past him. He straightened his robe and grinned all the wider when he felt the flesh-bound tome in his deep pocket. Aric pulled his cowl over his head and masked his face in shadow, but the darkness was quickly replaced by a pale green glow in his eyes.

         His army was going to be created.

         His kingdom was going to be built.

         His dream was becoming all too real.

         He stepped from his throne and mounted a deathly horse all too familiar to him.

         "Ligh-," nearly completing the horse's name summoned memories, painful memories, to him. He shuddered as he quickly repressed the vulnerabilities and decided he would deal with them later. "Crow is what I will call you now. It is far more... fitting." He stroked the bloody, matted hair as the horse whinnied its approval and pawed the ground. "East, old friend. We have a kingdom to build."

         On the undead marched with singular purpose.

         On Aric trotted with them, also with singular purpose.

         The undead had risen and now marched alongside their commander.

         The King of Bones had come.