Norman The Necromancer Novels & Stories

Then walked across the room to sit on the recliner. “Wh… what are you talking about my mission? And you still haven't told me who you are and why are you here?” Ahnyla asked, walking over to the bed and grabbing her pup protectively. “My name is Dravin I’m the head of the Necromancers. Some call me the Deathmage, Bone King, or Shadow Master, you can call me whichever you prefer.” Dravin said as he relaxed in the recliner. “A Necromancer? What do you want with me?” Ahnyla said still holding her pup protectively, she had no idea what the Deathmage wants with her, but she knows whatever it is can't be good. “Oh, I don't want anything from you, I just need you to get something or rather someone

he drawled, the words carrying a dark amusement that hardly seemed appropriate for a time like that, “...this is dramatic. Whoever did this certainly has a flair for the dramatics. I almost want to applaud.” Nico, standing just behind him with his hands in his pockets, gave the corpse one long, unreadable look. He recognised the man, Ramon. He was one of their new recruits that joined the outfit a few years ago. The last time he had seen Ramon was when he took permission to go see his family. Nico had been expecting to see him back the next morning. Now he was a dead spectacle. His expression never shifted, though his jaw tightened noticeably. “You find this amusing?” he asked Nero, his tone

His good hand tightens on the spear-shaft until the wood creaks. One of the archers—the one with the missing fingers—steps forward. “She saved us, Captain. Those dead men fought like demons. We’d be meat without her.” Torren turns to him. Slow. Deliberate. “The law is clear,” he says. “Necromancy is abomination. The Church edicts haven’t changed because the capital fell. Raise the dead, and you forfeit your soul—and anyone who harbors you forfeits theirs.” He looks around the circle of faces. “She’s eight years old. Alone. Hunted by demonkin and now by her own people. If we let sentiment blind us, we become what the demonkin call us: weak.”

White nine-tailed foxes are bound to destroy the world if not destroyed. Her smile and heart were still not under my influence after killing all her family, after every person I threw her way and she loved, left her, she remained pure and beautiful, she was nowhere near evil like he would want to make her just to prove his point. She carelessly wandered on the fields. The beautiful face that, he, so much wanted to make his, never had any sign of hate painted on it. He had tried to destroy her soul over and over and over again. He had tried to darken her whole damn life. But all she had around her is brightness. And it infuriated Ajax more than anything in the world. It seemed impossible to h

Wardric's actions astounded the audience. Wardric exclaimed, "I know what you're doing, or at least how you're doing it, and I'm not going to utilize the grimoire any longer!" He rushed forward, shooting a trail of burning fire that danced across the concrete floor, charring it as it approached Norval. Norval reacted immediately by grabbing for another vial and crushing it in his palm, but Wardric slid beneath Norval's reach and drew out a vial that stood out from the rest. It was labeled ‘Neutralizer' and had a green lining on the glass walls. Wardric pulled it from his utility belt and thrust it into the other hand of Norval. He seized Norval's palm with both hands and crushed it, smashing

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.

"Did you really not have to kill anyone to gain your power? Like for Necromancers in general, not just you." His question caught me off guard. Why was he stuck on this killing thing? Did they all think we were a bunch of mindless killers? "John, Necromancy isn't something you can buy. It's something we're born with, and I've never heard of a Necromancer taking a life - at least, not outside of the war." He still had that calculating look in his eyes, but our time was up. I watched his dad and the other figures take aim, raising their arms and pointing in our direction.

He wouldn't send me away without even saying goodbye or discussing it with me. I told him he shouldn't send me away, and he agreed. He lied, Damon the fifth." Sebastian's expression appeared sad. "He recently found out about Norman, and that seems to have pushed him over the edge." "What did he find, and why would that upset him?" I hurriedly asked, "Tell me everything, Sebastian." "Norman uses black magic, just like Alex, but Norman's powers are on another level. He's dangerous, and the fact that he wants you must have made Damon worried."

"Personally speaking, I've never seen him in action myself. But a lot of people have, and his record is impeccable. And he does all this as a Freelancer, and solo to boot. Although, being a Necromancer, he's not literally alone. I've been told he can summon hundreds at a time." "A Master Necromancer at the age of twenty-three. And handsome as the devil himself," Madam Josefa chuckled, apparently enjoying my father's sour face. "What do you want with him, Madam? If he's a Necromancer, it means his abilities are most likely runic and symbolic in origin, rather than mystic." Dad asked her, referring to Madam Josefa's clairvoyant abilities. Yes, that was something I wanted to know too. But of co

Then, I turned around. I saw him standing with a deadpan and impassive expression on his face in the periphery, out of my cloak, and a few meters away. I had a glance-over with the beast, his face unreadable, fire cracks on his face were that of neon crimson fire, his eyes extraterrestrial grey. It looked like he was trying to dig a hole in my head with his gaze. I lost my focus for a second. This caused the ebbing of the strength of my cloak, and that was enough for Marcellus to use it to penetrate my protective field with necromancy. My lilac shield started to break and crack under the force of his black magic. The swirling dust of his necromancy mixed with neon blue electric zaps encircle