The Chronicles of A Dark Lord: Victor Antonius

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Book One: Communion with the Devil

He stood over the blood soaked bed, with a vile grin on his face.  Laying on the table was a young girl, barely in her teens.  She was strapped down firmly as she writhed in pain, gasping for breath.  Warm liquid freely flowed from her throat, where the man had cut her.  He bent over, holding a black wooden chalice near the girls head.  As her blood spilled, the chalice began to fill.  Once the blood nearly reached the brim, the man turned to the table.  He lit two black candles and began to stir the blood in the cup with his index finger, while chanting an almost demonic sounding magical phrase.  As he spoke, the room around him seemed to darken and the candle flames flickered as wind filled the damp chamber.  The young girl, now dead from blood loss began to twitch and shake on the bed.  He turned to her with satisfaction on his face as he saw what she had become.  Her eyes showed only a feint, empty spark to them and her skin seemed cold and pale.

He moved to the bindings holding her in place and cut them, allowing the animated corpse to climb to her feet.  "Lord of the dead, your servant has risen to bring about your reign.  I offer this ceremony in your honor, that I pledge my service to you.  This child shall now carry out your will.  In your name, lord Vecna, I give you her soul." The corpse of the child simply stood before the man, staring at him."Go now my pet.  Feed and deliver souls to the dead god."  Without hesitation, she made her way down the narrow corridor and into the world.  For many hours to pass, he knelt quietly in prayer.  All the while, the child would prowl the night as the walking dead, forever seeking her next victim...

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The Book of Shadows

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The Three Tales of Vecna

Part One:

Part Two:

Part Three:

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The Sacrifice

The hours had quickly passed in the dark chamber.  In the dim light provided by the many dancing candle flames, the robed figure could be seen working diligently.  On the floor in the center of the room, he painted arcane runes in the shape of a large pentagram.  While he worked on the outer star, his beautiful yet demented acolyte painted similar arcane symbols on the inner points of the design.  Standing in the doorway of the chamber, stood the dark figure of a deformed man hunching over while he watched them work.  For many hours they continued to perfect their masterpiece until the howls of wolves above indicated to them that the night had at long last arrived, it was time to get started. The echos of chanting could be heard through the hallway as the trio prepared their magic blessings and made their way through the twisted tunnels to the surface.  For a while, the chamber they had prepared fell silent as darkness overtook it.  It lay dormant into the late hours of the night until the shuffling sound of someone being drug down the hall disturbed the silence.  Returning successful from their hunt, the three robed figures entered the chamber.  The deformed one drug behind him the unconscious body of a short gnome.  He was sprawled out on the floor in the center of the pentagram, while the robed figures formed a triangle around him.  Once again, chanting overtook the quiet chamber.  In the center, the glistening of sweat on the gnome's brow could be seen, illuminated by the dancing and flickering flames of the many candles on the floor.

All around the chamber, a red mist began to rise as the chanting grew louder and reached its chorus.  Then it ceased and silence once again overtook the hall.  The three figures loomed over the near hysterical gnome and the time of sacrifice had come.  The larger of the robed figures stepped forward and placed a single cold finger on the gnomes damp forehead.  He looked up at the man who was touching him, taking in his features.  He was very tall and his robes draped down to the floor.  He wore a silver circlet on his face, which looked old and in the throws of decomposition.  One of his eyes dangled from it's socket freely, while the other was locked on to the gnome.  He inhaled sharply knowing his fate and then the large robe figure uttered an arcane phrase.  Screams now filled the hall as the gnome thrashed and writhed in pain on the floor.  His body possessed no wounds and yet blood poured freely from every pour and every orifice.  The ground now seemed to shake at their feet.  From all around them, scarping and digging sounds nearly overtook the burial chamber they were occupying.  From the dirt and stone floor, skeletal hands burst through all around them.  The gnome looked wide eyed with horror even in spite of his pain as he realized that the dead bodies buried here were coming to life and digging their way out of their graves.  They stood now around the pentagram motionless.  Their hollow eyes were locked on the gnome and once more the chamber grew quiet.  The dark robed mage stepped forward once again, now holding a dark and twisted dagger.  He bent low and gave the gnome a kiss on the forehead, causing the bleeding victim to cringe and tremble.  The dagger flashed briefly in the candle light before disappearing into the gnome's chest, finding its home in his heart.  His eyes glazed over and his thrashing stopped as life fleeted from his  prone corpse.  Darkness now overtook the chamber.

"It is in your honor that we present this sacrifice.  You have rewarded us for our faithful service and now to return the favor, we have delivered for you a feast.  We have bathed this soul in the blood of the innocent and now we prepare him to be sent to your eternal realm.  May you accept this offering and continue to bless us in our service to you.  Dark lord of death we are your faithful servants..  Accept this sacrifice if you deem him worthy and may his soul bring more power to you as you draw ever closer to your return to this realm.  It is in your glory that we pray, in the hopes that you look favorably on us your faithful hands."  ~HoV

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Necropolis

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Return to Barovia

Part One

Part Two

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Prayers to the Dead God

He knelt quietly in prayer.  Around him, the forest grew quieter with each moment as if even the insects were hesitant to become known in the presence of such overwhelming evil.  Surrounding the Priest lay the corpses of six mangled tree sprites and several dead mink.  He seemed not to mind them or even notice them.  As he continued his prayers, he could feel his left eye begin to twitch of its own accord.  He knew his patron was listening and so a ritual must be performed.  He reached down to the dagger at his hip, then climbed to his feet.  With a couple of short steps, he approached the dead mink and bent low to pick it up.  While holding it in his cold embrace, he drew the dagger across its throat, cutting it clean.  The blood would become his canvas as he drew several arcane runes in a circle around where he would kneel and continue his prayer.  Before him, he lit a skull candle and knelt down close to it.  Using the same dagger, he cut an open wound across his palm and then clenched his fist, allowing the blood to drop on to the candle.  He closed his eyes.

In his head he could hear a voice whispering.  He opened his eyes wide as he felt a presence join him in the circle.  He was looking at a mirror image of himself, sitting across from him.  Silence grew thick in the air surrounding the Priest and his doppelganger.  He examined it closely, not halting his prayers.  The image was a perfect replica of himself.  As he studied it, he could once again feel the twitching from his left eye.  At the same time, the visage in front of him began to smile as blood fell freely from the same eye.  He joined the shade in sharing a smile and once more he could hear a whispering voice in the back of his mind.

What do you want from me my master?  You need only speak it...

I want you to feed her...

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Of Adelaide and Nogan

Part One

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Part Two

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Creatures of the Night

As the last rays of the day faded to give way to night, the villagers of Vallaki made their way home and barricaded the doors.  The air was thick this night with a breath of malice whispering into the chill fog that rolled down off Mt. Baratak.  Evil was most certainly out this evening, as it so often was in these lands.  As the villagers slept, a pair of dark figures made their way through the shadows along one of the nearby farms.  The house was quiet and it seemed its occupants were either asleep, or not home.  The figures crept inside, locking the door behind them.  Quietly, they made their way upstairs and into one of the bedrooms.  There on the bed, slept an innocently beautiful young girl.  One of the dark figures moved forward to the bed, extending his long pale fingers toward her.  He clasped his hand around her mouth, waking her up instantly.  She opened her eyes in utter horror as she gazed on the grotesque form of the man's face.  It appeared burned and charred, with one eye hanging out of his head.  She tried to scream but he clenched his hand, almost crushing her in his grip.  The figures lifted her from her bed and drug her from the farm and into the old night.  They walked silently until they reached the tunnels leading beneath Vallaki and the Morninglord Temple and then finally, the crypt...

Once they arrived in the crypt, the veil covered woman took the young girls hand, while the larger figure began preparing the room.  He had carefully drawn out a large rune with a mixture of charcoal and his own blood.  After an hour of preparations, he began weaving dark necromantic magic in the center of the rune.  He then knelt down in prayer, calling out to the dead god.  As his prayers grew louder, the room began to darken and fill with a bloody red mist.  Pillars of red light began to grow from the skull candles he had placed on the floor.  The veiled woman then guided the child to the center of the pillars and then joined the man in his dark prayer.   The man weaved a dark spell, drawing out his own life force into the magical runes.  He then turned to the veiled woman repeating the process.  The girl cried and whimpered when the negative energy from his magic began to surround her.  Urine collected in a puddle around her and she cried out...

The chanting continued for what seemed like an eternity to the child.  She could hear them calling out to their god with growing intensity.  They asked of their patron to deliver his servant so that it could feed on her.  The thought made her sick to her stomach, but there was nothing she could do.  The room continued to darken around them and the walls began to heat up as if they were on fire, yet the air grew only more cold. Time seemed to slow all around them making minutes seem to feel as hours.  Still they continued their dark prayers and chanting.  As the prayer reached its crescendo, the ground began to shake and the heat of the walls intensified to appear almost molten.  Then at once they stopped...

The girl watched in terror as both the man and woman looked down at her in silence.  Even with their silence, whispers seemed to echo in the chamber.  A few moments later the hooded figure of a short half-ling appeared before them.  They greeted him and motioned him over to the helpless child.  With light noiseless steps the half-ling seemed to glide across the room to the girls side.  He knelt down quietly, flashing two long, pearly white fangs.  He grew closer, sinking them into her neck and drinking from her blood.  She could do no more than whimper as he drained her nearly to the last drop.  The half-ling then stood and joined the other two dark figures in their resumed prayers.  Moments later, they each drew a dagger and sliced it across their palms.  They then held their palms above the child's lips, allowing their blood to fill her mouth.  The room then began to explode with dark magical power.  Their voiced rose over the noise of the magical explosions and in the midst of the fire and negative energy, the larger figure lifted his dagger and plunged it down swiftly into the child's heart.  Her eyes shut for the final time and then the room grew quiet once more.  The figures quietly made their way out of the chamber and back into the tunnels before any who might come investigating the quakes and explosions could find them...

We give you this offering of a young virgin child, that she may feed you and give you strength for your return...

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Regeneration

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Times Passage

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Adelaide and Nogan Continued

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Neureni

Part One:

Part Two:

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Advancement

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Von Servovich

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Burn This Book

...Mother Knows Best...

[The final pages of this book are burned beyond being able to decipher]

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Book Two:  The Keeper of Knowledge

Priest Victor Antonius

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Masters of the Old Night