Ghost Town

Tom raised his hands as the angry mob approached him. Not as a surrender, as the Agnar realized too late. He was casting another spell.

A light green gas started appearing in front of Tom, quickly growing.

"RUN"

Agnar yelled, but it was two late. The gas quickly enveloped the courtyard and everyone in it. The screams of Toms old neighbors gave him a strangely pleasant feeling, watching them slowly decay in front of him even more so.

Tom dispelled his curse and the green gas dissipated. Slowly and systematically Tom bent over each person, laying his claim to their soul before it escaped into the void.

With fifty new souls his undead and curses would strengthen considerably. Having never left Mistglen he wasn't sure where to go next.

Tom knew that his great grandfather had come to Mistglen to hide his identity. Necromancy ran in his blood and if his ancestor had not hidden he would have been executed. With no particular goal in mind Tom wondered back into the forest.

As I closed the door behind me the mysterious light faded and the house is entered was dark. Hearing screams coming from the courtyard I knew running was the right choice. Professional soldiers or mercenaries could fight magic with skill and the proper equipment. That mob had neither and was lucky to have bested the undead. But they had no chance against the necromancer.

Suddenly exhausted, I climb into the nearest bed, it's much nicer then I'm used to very welcome after a week on the road. The screams had stopped and I decide that I might as well rest since it's the middle of the night. In the morning light I'll investigate my glowing bag. I roll over, my hand still on the book.

My eyes open at dawn. And I thank the gods that Tom can't sense living souls. My arm and hand are covered in dried blood and I have to peel myself off of the book. There is no source of light inside my bag so I take the book out and bring it to a dining table nearby.

Wiping as much blood as I can off the book I notice something strange. Before the cover had a red hand print, but now, there was a new hand print, one that matched mine perfectly. I pick up the book to study it closer and the pages split.

The pages split. I set the book down and slowly open up the inside cover to the first page. The words are written in my native tongue in blood red ink. There is a short introduction where the author claims to have created his own style of magic, an advanced version of blood magic. Including a warning that all the standard dangers of practicing blood magic apply including but not limited to; pain, arcane propagation, rejection from society, and death.

Arcane propagation was a condition that distorted a persons physical appearance, clothing, and if the magic was strong enough would even affect the mages surroundings. Practicing any form of magic would cause some degree of arcane propagation, that's why necromancers are pale, and their clothing darkens. A fire mage would likely have small burns on their hands and wore orange.

At the end of the warning the book suggested learning the spells and techniques in the order they are written.

Flipping through a dozen pages every page other then the introduction and warnings each page contained instructions to learn one spell. Some had specific volumes of blood requirements. Others had a - in that place. Some had phrases that needed to be said, others only deserved the path for which the blood must follow. It appeared that once collected blood could be used to do anything imaginable. But could one store blood? Or would he would he have to spill liters of blood all at once?

Flipping to the first page. The book or tome, described a method to absorb blood on sight or that the caster is in physical contact with, outside of the casters skin, into a mental pool for storage.

Perfect. I'd hate to half bleed out trying to cast one spell.

"I wonder if the blood needs to be fresh, or if I could collect the blood from the dead villagers in the courtyard"

Assuming that Tom was only a necromancer and was only interested in the people's souls and not their blood. Might as well go see.

The courtyard was a gruesome sight. The bodies had started to smell and weren't too pretty either. I just won't look at their faces.

Walking up to the nearest with the Blood Tome in one hand and dagger in the other. I set down the book and flipped it to the absorption spell reading the description again I cut the women's arm, her blood was thick and did not flow out.

Staring at the blood with one hand on the page I imagined the blood entering my mental pool, though I wasn't too sure what that meant. The Tome instructed I touch the book the first time I try the spell so that the magic in the Tome could aid my transformation into the Blood Tome's heir. After five seconds the exposed blood vaporized into a red mist and floated towards my face. I was stunned but kept thinking about it entering my mental pool.

The blood flew straight into my eyes, but it didn't sting, the blood seemed to go through my eyes. Focusing on the blood the scenery around me faded and the mist consolidate into three or so drops floating in a sphere in the open sky.

I released my hold on the book and shoved my fingers into her open wound not quite sure this would work. I focused again on my blood pool, it had quadrupled in size. I'm not sure how I knew but I knew I'd drained only her forearm and hand. So I made wounds every foot or so across her body slowly draining her. The whole thing took my about twenty minutes.

Moving on to the next corpse I had him drained in only ten minutes. By the time I'd finished I'd gotten my time per person down to only five minutes and it was late afternoon. I'd avoided drugs as much as I could but some of my old roommates lived for them. As I leaned back against a wall I felt incredibly high, but perhaps that was the wrong word for the euphoria I was feeling.

Looking again at my blood pool I was astonished. My whirling blood sphere was now roughly twenty four gallons. Though I'm guessing I've lost some blood due to the bodies having rotted overnight. Fresher bodies would not only hold more blood but it wouldn't have been thickened allowing me to more quickly absorb it.

My stomach rumbles and I realize I haven't eaten today. I pick a house at random and search it for food. It has a pantry of bread and dried meat. I eat my fill and sit at the dining table pulling out the Blood Tome.

The next page in the book describes a spell to reduce the feeling of pain. The first step is to cause yourself pain and then direct blood to the source of pain inside the brain.

"Well I can't imagine wanting to feel pain so might as well"

The phrase to chant was 'Pain has no hold on me, on me pain has no hold' taking out my dagger I held the point over my left forearm. I began chanting and imagining the blood from my pool tracing the sting up my arm and muting my nervous system.

"Pain has no hold on me, on me pain has no hold. Pain has no hold on me, on me pain has no hold"

I kept repeating myself, at first I didn't notice it. But slowly the dagger stopped feeling like it was stabbing me and only felt like it was poking me, even though I was pushing it in deeper.

I pulled the dagger out and absorbed the blood running down to my hand. Deciding to test how effective this new spell was I stood up and punched the wall as had as I could. The wood dented slightly under my fist, but it felt as though I'd only punched my palm. Looking again at my blood pool it had shrunk considerably and was now only eighteen gallons roughly.

"Guess I used more then I thought"