Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)
Lilura was fairly sure that this part of the desert had not seen human life in some time, in fact, she could almost guarantee it. No records of the stronghold she was visiting existed anymore, the knowledge of it's location in the foothills of the great mountains lost long ago during one of the many tribal wars that kept the area in a constant state of turmoil. It was hard to survive out here, and sometimes, only those with enough warriors to raid from other tribes could survive the harsh environment. Why anyone would even want to live here was beyond her. The tribesmen told her because the king and his 'noble' men (for they used the word with disdain) did not find the land worth their time, they were allowed the freedom to live as they always had, without intervention. The hard lives they lead were the price for the independence. Lilura honestly didn't see it as worth it, but she had grown up very differently from them.
She was noble by blood, something she hid for the most part when dealing with the common folk, it didn't really matter anyway. She'd all but renounced her title, she still held claim to it, but only as a formality, her brother could have it all. Court intrigue, fashion, politics, none of it interested her. She had grown up with her nose in a book and a deep hunger to see the world, something she got from her father. It had been on his journey to other countries that he had met and married her mother, the mix of blood gave Lilura a look that set her a part from her fellow countrymen. She possessed the dark hair and skin, bronzed after so many days in the sun now, but her features were slightly more angular, and bright blue eyes stared out of the gap between the folds of the scarf she had wrapped about her head to protect her face and ears from the sand-ladened wind. Thick bold lines of kohl circled her eyes to provide additional protection from the sun as well. She was beautiful, and young, and would have likely lead a successful life as a noblewoman. As it were though, she was currently riding into this long abandoned section of the desert, where some long ago king had built a fortress in an attempt to exert some sort of control over the tribes. It hadn't worked.
She only knew about it thanks to consorting with the ghost of a certain soldier in a graveyard in the last major town she'd been in. He had been stationed at the fortress before they had had to flee during a very severe drought, forced to leave behind much of the gold and jewels that had belonged to the pompous lord-officer who had overseen them. They'd had to eat most of their horses and camels and so had had no way to transport them. It all now lay forgotten in the ruins, and Lilura would be the one to claim them.
This was what she did, when she wasn't handling some zombie outbreak or haunting, she explored ruins and other abandoned places. And with the aid of the memories of the spirits who had once known of their existence, she found more than enough gold and treasure to sustain herself. Also though she sought out tomes and scrolls and other artifacts of a more intellectual value and sent them to her uncle, who ran the mage's academy in the royal city of Madiar. A brief but violent bout of persecution by a religious zealot of a king and his two successors had resulted in the destruction of the much of the held knowledge on magic, as well as the slaughter of many many mages. So any bit of lore or instruction that Lilura found, she sent to her uncle as he attempted to rebuild the lost knowledge on magic, now that that line of kings was gone and done with.
Lilura was among the most feared of mages, a necromancer, something she hid until it suited her. To look at her, most would never guess. They imagined liches, little more than walking corpses, summoning demons and stealing souls, not a beautiful young woman, and that suited her just fine.
Following the directions of the ghost, she soon found herself at the crumbling gate of the fortress. She had to dismount and lead her horse, Azarra, through the rocks, looping her reins about her neck so she wouldn't trip over them but leaving her unsecured. She didn't know what would happen to her, or if something might come out of the ruins to attack the mare, and she wanted her to be able to escape. The horse was valuable, not only in gold, but sentiment.
Leaving Azarra in the courtyard, Lilura ventured further into the fortress, pulling the scarf off her head and tucking it into her bag, her wavy black hair pulled into a braid that fell down her back. Finding a small room off the main hall, she prepared for a summoning. Any spirit would do, she only needed one to help her in fighting the undead she knew would be waiting. The soldier had told her that many of their men had died from starvation, and with the drought, the final push had come in the form of their dead comrades coming back to life to try and kill them. Zombies were odd creatures. The bodies of the dead could lie, rotting and very much inanimate, for many years. And then one stray soul got stubborn enough to inhabit and it set off a chain reaction, causing other souls to come and inhabit other bodies. They never left on their own, and they brought enough life to a corpse to slow the decay process greatly. Lilura had learned that the best way to defeat zombies was to have a more intact spirit help her to guide the lost spirits that lived within the zombies cross over. There were other ways, but they required time and preparation that she did not have in a place like this.
Laying out the things she needed and using chalk to write the runes and symbols, Lilura muttered the spell and then pricked her finger, letting it a drop fall on each rune, and then onto the candle she had lit, and then waited. The blood that fell onto the runes was potent, infused with the power of the other world thanks to the unique circumstances of her conception.
She was noble by blood, something she hid for the most part when dealing with the common folk, it didn't really matter anyway. She'd all but renounced her title, she still held claim to it, but only as a formality, her brother could have it all. Court intrigue, fashion, politics, none of it interested her. She had grown up with her nose in a book and a deep hunger to see the world, something she got from her father. It had been on his journey to other countries that he had met and married her mother, the mix of blood gave Lilura a look that set her a part from her fellow countrymen. She possessed the dark hair and skin, bronzed after so many days in the sun now, but her features were slightly more angular, and bright blue eyes stared out of the gap between the folds of the scarf she had wrapped about her head to protect her face and ears from the sand-ladened wind. Thick bold lines of kohl circled her eyes to provide additional protection from the sun as well. She was beautiful, and young, and would have likely lead a successful life as a noblewoman. As it were though, she was currently riding into this long abandoned section of the desert, where some long ago king had built a fortress in an attempt to exert some sort of control over the tribes. It hadn't worked.
She only knew about it thanks to consorting with the ghost of a certain soldier in a graveyard in the last major town she'd been in. He had been stationed at the fortress before they had had to flee during a very severe drought, forced to leave behind much of the gold and jewels that had belonged to the pompous lord-officer who had overseen them. They'd had to eat most of their horses and camels and so had had no way to transport them. It all now lay forgotten in the ruins, and Lilura would be the one to claim them.
This was what she did, when she wasn't handling some zombie outbreak or haunting, she explored ruins and other abandoned places. And with the aid of the memories of the spirits who had once known of their existence, she found more than enough gold and treasure to sustain herself. Also though she sought out tomes and scrolls and other artifacts of a more intellectual value and sent them to her uncle, who ran the mage's academy in the royal city of Madiar. A brief but violent bout of persecution by a religious zealot of a king and his two successors had resulted in the destruction of the much of the held knowledge on magic, as well as the slaughter of many many mages. So any bit of lore or instruction that Lilura found, she sent to her uncle as he attempted to rebuild the lost knowledge on magic, now that that line of kings was gone and done with.
Lilura was among the most feared of mages, a necromancer, something she hid until it suited her. To look at her, most would never guess. They imagined liches, little more than walking corpses, summoning demons and stealing souls, not a beautiful young woman, and that suited her just fine.
Following the directions of the ghost, she soon found herself at the crumbling gate of the fortress. She had to dismount and lead her horse, Azarra, through the rocks, looping her reins about her neck so she wouldn't trip over them but leaving her unsecured. She didn't know what would happen to her, or if something might come out of the ruins to attack the mare, and she wanted her to be able to escape. The horse was valuable, not only in gold, but sentiment.
Leaving Azarra in the courtyard, Lilura ventured further into the fortress, pulling the scarf off her head and tucking it into her bag, her wavy black hair pulled into a braid that fell down her back. Finding a small room off the main hall, she prepared for a summoning. Any spirit would do, she only needed one to help her in fighting the undead she knew would be waiting. The soldier had told her that many of their men had died from starvation, and with the drought, the final push had come in the form of their dead comrades coming back to life to try and kill them. Zombies were odd creatures. The bodies of the dead could lie, rotting and very much inanimate, for many years. And then one stray soul got stubborn enough to inhabit and it set off a chain reaction, causing other souls to come and inhabit other bodies. They never left on their own, and they brought enough life to a corpse to slow the decay process greatly. Lilura had learned that the best way to defeat zombies was to have a more intact spirit help her to guide the lost spirits that lived within the zombies cross over. There were other ways, but they required time and preparation that she did not have in a place like this.
Laying out the things she needed and using chalk to write the runes and symbols, Lilura muttered the spell and then pricked her finger, letting it a drop fall on each rune, and then onto the candle she had lit, and then waited. The blood that fell onto the runes was potent, infused with the power of the other world thanks to the unique circumstances of her conception.
