Necromancer Anniar’s Journal

Author: Anniar
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Oldest entry
Our work can begin at last. These Ayleid ruins are the perfect—buried deep in the forest, no one will interrupt us. I can practically taste the necromantic energy infused in the tombs here. I must go, there are preparations to be completed.

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Next entry
I helped my masters identify several magical focal points within the ruins. The ground pulses with powerful energy in these spots. The dead want to be raised here, of that I’m sure. I’ve included a diagram of the areas with the strongest magical energy for them to reference later.

We’ll begin experimenting with the components for the ritual tomorrow. I have been asked to secure a whetstone for the dagger. It’s a high honor. My masters must be pleased with me!

The magic is so potent I have no doubt we will succeed. We’ll soon have an undead army at our disposal.

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Next entry
My masters have faith in me, for they have entrusted me with one of the most important pieces of the ritual: procuring the organic components for the spell. At first, I checked the tombs within the ruins, but the corpses here are ancient. The ritual will wake them, but for now we need fresher bodies.

Instead, I’ve decided to select “donors” from among our ranks. After all, what use is an impermanent flesh vessel when a life beyond the grave stretches for eternity?

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Next entry
Everything is in place. My masters have attuned their ritual tools to the necrotic energy in the ruins. I have provided the bodies to fuel the spellwork. Tomorrow, we’ll command the dead to rise.

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Next entry
Something has gone horribly, horribly wrong. We were ready to begin the ritual in earnest. I placed the corpses in the correct locations and began chanting with the others. The necromantic energy seeped into the bodies and bedrock of the ruins, when a blast of light blinded me. The explosion threw me into a wall and I was knocked senseless.

I awoke covered in blood and rubble. There were screams and the sound of fighting. I don’t know who our assailants are. Most of my fellow necromancers were killed in the blast. The ones that survived were quickly overcome by the intruders. They look like some kind of Daedra, but they’re unlike any I’ve ever seen before. They haven’t noticed me yet. I pray they don’t.

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Next entry
I don’t know how it’s possible, but my masters have returned from beyond the grave. I didn’t raise them. They seem compelled to continue the ritual, even after their deaths. It feels different, somehow. Some of the words have changed and their revenants are twisted. They’re not like the undead or spirits I’m used to. They terrify me. Even the otherworldly Daedra leave them alone now.

I think I’m the last one left. I need to find a way out of here.

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Latest entry
That’s it. I’m making a run for it. Let this journal be my epitaph if I don’t make it.

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