Necromancer Comics Novels & Stories

Yasmin trailed off when she saw the look on Carmen's face, “You… Don't tell me that Nyx is… Which one of them? Which one of the Lombardi's are backing Nyx up?” “To be exact, it's Alden Black Lombardi, the heir to the Lombardi Clan. The Red Eyed Demon.” Yasmin’s breath hitched, her body tensing at the name. A slow, incredulous smile spread across her lips, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Alden Black Lombardi. The very mention of him was enough to send chills down the spine of even the most fearless individuals. Ruthless. Unforgiving. And now, he was backing Nyx?

"What does the necromancer offer them?" "Immortality," I answered, my fingers tightening on the parchment until the dry hide groaned. "The Dark Master knows the elders are terrified of the High Council's purges and the loss of their ancestral titles. He is offering them the ultimate temptation: direct infusion of pure Eclipse necrotic flesh-magic."

Something that still carries the Church’s coin and the Church’s warrants. He sips his ale slowly, eyes scanning the wall behind the bar where fresh posters have been tacked up. The ink is still damp in places. Raven Winterstar stares back at him from the parchment—child’s face, white hair, sharp blue eyes that seem to follow him even in charcoal and soot. Below the sketch: **NECROMANTRESS. 500 GOLD MARKS. DEAD OR ALIVE.** Garrick sets the tankard down. Wipes foam from his mustache with the back of his hand. He’s seen worse bounties. He’s hunted worse things. But a child who raises the dead… that’s new. That’s interesting.

They were somehow also unaffected by her waves of ultrasonic shrieks and necromancy. To me, it was all in a blur, as I was barely alive, lying on the floor and gurgling the blood mixed with my venom. I don’t think I can hold on for much longer. The deaths of my warriors and her shrieks are taking a toll on me, although Sentaya’s other abilities do not touch me as I am a necromancer, too. One of the things I clearly saw while lying helpless on the ground and writhing in pain was Nexelex sidling behind Sentaya.

He began to crawl further into the darkness, feeling the path the voice wanted him to follow. As he crawled, a strange feeling invaded his battered body. He felt as if he were near a fire that caused damage without heat. Again, he felt that he must remember something, but he didn't know what. -"Lord of the Necromancers" Her back arched violently as a thousand stars exploded in her broken mind. The scattered debris fell inward, glowing, incandescent. "I am a Necromancer. I am… the Lord of Necromancers." His mouth was not used to uttering sounds and the words came out hesitantly.

Natalia asked calmly. The soldiers looked at each other before answering the queen. "We saw him, dear queen. He fought the demons and he was with someone." This behavior made Natalia frown. "He had a necromancer with him who was the reason why we won the war." Natalia was unable to speak immediately, especially after hearing the term necromancer. This is one of the terms that Wysteria fears. Everyone knows the necromancer and how dangerous it is. "How come he has a necromancer with him? A necromancer is a demon. Maybe you just made a mistake?!" Natalia hit her table and the soldiers hit her. They were surprised by Natalia's behavior.

“I could cut him open—” “No!” The word burst out of me, nearly bringing what was left of my guts up with it. “No, fuck, no.” “Ignore him,” Nate snapped. “He’s a necromancer, of course he always wants to dig up bodies. It’s like fucking Christmas for him.”

He had seen few zombie flicks during his stay in the human realm. "Necromancers?" Alexa frowned and Dimitri knew what would be her next question. "Necromancers are wizards who practice black magic on dead people," he explained. Alexa's mouth formed a cute 'O' while she thought about what he said. "Alexa... baby, it's almost lunchtime. You are starving our guests," Lucian intervened and Dimitri let out a sigh of relief. "Oh... shit, I forgot. You guys talk. I will get on to it," Alexa said and bounced towards the kitchen.

Her little body was shaking. The man's eyes looked at each person in the room. Old people. Young people. Everyone who came to say goodbye to Brock. His men stood behind him. They were big and mean looking. One of them had tattoos on his face. Teardrops under his eyes. "Dead men's debts don't disappear," Scarface said. He was cleaning his fingernails with a knife now. The sound of the blade clicking open and shut made people jump. "They pass to family."

Once it told her where she could find the rest of her daughter. “In gullets,” it had said. “Building the bones of strong animals. Feeding the universe. Decaying with the leaves.” “That’s lovely,” she had told the voice in her dream, and then it wrapped around her neck like a lover’s hands and tried to strangle her. “I’m back,” she answered him now. “You ran off so quickly before that I wasn’t sure I would see you again.” Casual. Nonchalant. Simply a murderer unknowingly talking to his victim’s mother, after all. A warm sunny day in the poor district of the city.