Plot Challenge: Necromancy

  • So many newbies lately! Here is a very important PSA about one of our most vital content policies! Read it even if you are an ancient member!


Original poster

NOTE: You can reply to this post with your own challenge additions at any time! If you decide to borrow someone's concept for a roleplay, make sure you give credit. Learn more about the Roleplay Challenges HERE.

Challenge Phrase: Necromancy
That reminds me of a story I wrote one. Basically the necromancer was the heroine and used her zombie hoared to recapture a castle and dispatch the current ruler. Just because its death magic doesn't mean it has to be evil!
A young woman stumbles upon the forgotten magic of necromancy after the tragic death of her family.
Impulsively, she tries to brings them back. However, they are not the same people that she once knew.
Instead of putting her loved ones' souls back in their bodies, she has tethered evil spirits to them, and now they are bound to her service against their will and hers. She must now deal with them until she can find a way to break the tie.
A child of age 7 loses a pet one day, and out of the feeling of loss, brings his pet back to life. Horror-struck, his parents fight to hide this information, but the residence of their village uncover what's been done because of a bully who had been watching nearby when the child reanimated it. In a horde of angry people, the child and his family are all exiled from their village, and must wander from place to place completely rejected from anywhere. When the child grows up, cold-hearted and angry, he trains excessively in his power to be the best at it he can be, becoming a lich later on in his life. When he's strong enough, he vows vengeance on every village who had rejected him, and destroys his home village. All the while, his lost pet who he had reanimated for the first time, sits beside him, faithfully.
In a distant future a dictator has taken over through the use of necromancy. Only he truly understands how it works. Ways of defeating this magic have been long forgotten and lost. It has been this way for years now, with undead soldiers filling the ranks and any who resist are soon to join them.

Any hope of a rebellion has been crushed.

A man finds an envelope in an old desk within his dusty attic hidden inside a secret room one day with a note and a key inside no larger than the average house key. He reads the note, written what appears to be centuries ago by one of his ancestors, which reveals that the key is not meant for any locks or to start up vehicles. It is an enchanted key. Reading further into the note, the man finds out if the key is thrust into the flesh of a corpse and turned. . . it will re-animate the dead body. Or if turned inside an animated body it will kill them instantly. More astonishing yet, that the key will only work in his hands since his family are descended from a line of Necromages. a type of mage which specializes in defeating Necromancy.

Will one man stand up against an entire army alone?
They called him the King. He was very good at sending people off to meet their ends, and meet what came next to them. And they all loved him for it. They loved him for his hideous, hidden face, they loved him for his hollow eyes, and they loved the way he incinerated their flesh, before making it walk once more. Everyone had been beautiful before him. Everybody had been alive. But the King introduced the concept of death, when he was born as a screaming grey thing.
His mother had been the first to die. Her soft pink flesh couldn't handle this wailing grey thing with the hollow eyes and the sharp teeth. And so, she dies. And they all watch in horror as she does so, for they had never seen death before. The baby had destroyed her. The baby was magic. The baby was a god. The called him Dihenydd which was the only word that they had in their language for death. It meant ending. And the baby became their god. The good, plush pink people worshiped this child who taught them how to die. Dihenydd grew to become more and more powerful. People lined up to die for him. To be killed by his hand- ! What ecstasy was that!
But the villagers got bored with death.
So Dihenydd showed them a new trick. A boy came to him. A young, handsome Shepard boy, who would become a hero in some horrid fairytale. And Dihenydd killed him without a word. But then, he woke him from the grave. He brought his corpse to life. And he never said a word. He waved a branch, a twig, a stone, and Dihenydd had not only invented death, but the hereafter. He rose all that he had slain back to consciousness - a whole realm of nothing but the living and the unliving. Death was no longer static. It was a state of being.
Dihenydd never wanted to die. He never wanted to be risen from the dead. So he cut out of his heart, and placed it within a box, which was the fed to his Creation. His Creation was sewn together - an abomination of a dragon made from the stitched flesh of the villagers. They called him Dinister. Dihenydd had created Dinister, and thus, he had created Fear. And within Fear, beat his long dead heart, for a man who had invented death but would never die. And he became a God. A King. The Lord of the Dead. The Lord of the Dying. The Lord of Fear.
And then, a voice spoke out. It was a living boy. He said, No more death. I want only life. No more death. I am sick to tears with death. I will live. I will not be risen from my grave. I will never die. The boy smiled, and the villagers believed him. They called him Lyrif. That was their word for eternal. They called him a King, the living did. And they all loved him. He vowed to them, I will rid us of the Tyrant! I will make him living again, and then he can be slain! And he will never live again! I am the Lord of the Live! The Lord of the Living! The Lord of Deliverance!
Dihenydd hated the boy with all of his heart within his monster.
Now, you should decided who you are. Are you Live? Are you Dead? Are you Afraid? Are you Delivered? The Kings are warring at each other. The battle is raging hard and fierce. The Living fight their Dead and the Dead fight the Living, all while Dinister looks on, breathing fire and love down upon them all. Are you a dragon? Are you a Lord? Lyrif plunges the Golden Sword of Life into the Dead and they live once more, pink and plush and immortal. Dihenydd watches from his Iron Tower of Death and sends the Living to their next of kin. He worries about his heart. Worries that they find it, he will die. And he's always been afraid of the death. The Creator of Death and Lord of Fear was afraid of death. Lyrif watched the dragon with those horridly blue eyes. He was afraid of Dinister. He was afraid of his firey breath, and the feelings of Love he stirred within mankind. He was afraid of being loved by the tender breath from the Creation of Fear.
You're not afraid.
I can see it in your eyes.
You're going to rip out his Heart.
You're going to take up the Sword.
Join the Fight.
Live, Living.
Die, Dying.
Choose your side. And watch the whole world burn down when you do.