Ok, I'm no Yggy or Kalidri by any means, but let me know what you guys think of this and I'll take it from there.... (and yes, the necro is me!!! lol)
Looking up from the scroll she was reading, the necromancer glanced in irritation at the disturbance. She had little time to herself and that time she valued. The knocking on her study door grew louder, more insistent.
“Mistress! Mistress Whisper!”
She stood, her thin frame caught in the glow of the evening sun, shining through the window behind her. Despite the stereotypes attached to her profession, Whisper loved the sunset, and sitting reading in the dappled light of the western window was one of her treasured pastimes.
“Enter!” Her voice was soft and cultured. Indeed, the lady of the house rarely raised her voice, even at the academy where she taught, her lessons were places of calm and order, unless the topic dictated otherwise.
The door flung open and her maidservant, Tasha, hurried into the room. “Mistress, come quickly, he’s hurt, I think he’s dying!!” she garbled.
Whisper turned quickly. “Who child? Who is hurt and where are they?”
“At the gates, they…” Whatever further explanation was cut of as the woman hurried from her study, issuing instructions as she went. “Tasha, fetch Brother Falak to the gate, and alert Brother Titus, he will want to prepare the infirmary”
“And find me a litter, or something similar”
“And Tasha…” She rounded suddenly on the startled maid. “Don’t call me ‘ma’am’!”
The maid blushed lowered her eyes. “Go child, his life may depend on a certain speed”.
They exited the room, the maidservant running for the little chapel, where she was sure she would find the Brothers. Whisper took the stairs two at a time, heading for the courtyard and the gate. As she exited the front of the house, she saw her groom and several other of the servants attending to a prone figure, ling limply in the dust. She could hear the soft crooning reassurances, but her sharp eyes did not miss the fatality of the looks that passed between.
“What has happened?” She aimed the question at no-one in particular.
“He rode up to the gate some ten minutes ago” said the groom, “he demanded entrance, claiming sanctuary and pursuit.” He paused, as if unsure to go on.
“Continue”, Whisper crouched by the figure, her fingers seeking deftly for a pulse.
She was rewarded by a faint flutter, it was ragged and rapid, but it was there.
“Then, well, then he collapsed” said the groom “Fell from his horse M’lady, it was funny, he kinda jumped out of his saddle and then he was on the ground, like this. We dragged him into the compound, but he hasn’t moved. There’s no injuries we can see”
“And yet it is more than exhaustion, that much is plain” She moved her hand over the body, prone and rigid beneath her. “Quickly, bear him to the imfirmary, Brother Tidus will be ready for you”
The servants moved the man on to the nearby litter and moved toward the infirmary building. They were met halfway by a tall and imposing figure, robed and coweled. He too spread his hands over the prostrate man, infusing his body with an azure light. Raising his eyes, he met the Lady’s gaze. Nodding once, he turned and strode toward the building, a faint bluish trail extending to the littered man as he maintained his enchantment.
Once in the infirmary, with the patient now transferred to a bed, the Lady dismissed her servants and barred the door. Turning slowly, she regarded the two monks.
“Is there any doubt?” Asked Tidus, concern creasing his usually jaunty expression.
“None” responded Whisper, “this is Kane Sharak, The Acolyte of Night” She crossed to the body and placed her hand on his breast, calling her energies to her, she pushed the power into his body.
Kane’s sudden groans galvanised the monks into action. The air began to hum with energy as they cast prayers and enchantments, some directed at the man laying between them, some to sustain slim woman as she continued to push energy and power through his broken body.
Her chanting, previously sotto voce rose in tone and strength. Suddenly, she withdrew her hands and commanded “Kane Sharak! Walk this plane once more!”
The detonation of power was phenomenal, the three were thrown backwards from the bed. A huge magenta cloud was coalescing around the body of Kane. Summoning more power, Whisper hurled it at the misty form. The cloud wavered and the dissipated with an audible ‘pop’. The two monks recovered with alacrity, azure power rode the room as they fought to keep the man alive.
Without warning, Kane Sharak raised himself from the bed. His eyes glassy and unseeing, he faced the open room and began to speak, his harsh tone filling the room in a guttural tongue.
The blood drained from the woman’s face. Backing away, she felt the cool wall behind her and slid slowly to the floor. The monks jumped forward, but the woman waved them away. Kane Sharak stopped speaking, and sagged to the bed, dead.