[This is the journal of the necromancer Navaru Sil'Dur, where he writes down his experiences and scientific studies. He usually carries it with him in a pocket of his robe.]
It is the Thirtyseventh Day of the Fifth Year of the Fourth Age that I commit the pen to the paper for the first time after my untimely arrival at this particular realm. I have lived among the people of Lismore for a few seasons now and studied their habits, their hopes, dreams and their worst nightmares. It is a place ripe with opportunity for one like me, and there is so much knowledge to gain from the dusty tomes sealed away in the temples and libraries of the different factions, orders and institutions, that I will never have to worry about growing restless due to a lack of things to pursue. I shall take note of everything and preserve it for future studies.
Entry I
The graves cast long shadows on the soft earth beneath my feet. The smoke rising from the ritual candles mingles with the mist surging against the stones like a ghostly sea. Voices in the distant, but I know they are only in my mind. The spirits are restless, eager, ravenous even. They anticipate the ritual as much as I do. It has been too long since I practiced my holy craft. The runes and wards are in place, the body cleaned and soaked in necromantic essence. I have sharpened the blades of the knives and set aside a few special urns that will keep the blood fresh until we need it. Procuring the body was rather easy. I employed the help of the vessel itself, making it claw itself out of the ground and following me obediently. I still wonder why other necromancers insist on practicing illegal necromancy by binding souls. It is so much easier to steer a body when there is no mind resisting it. And the former inhabitant of that body could not care less what her rotting shell does. Alas, I will still be mindful of the beliefs of this place and return the body later to the grave after I have taken from it what I need.
It will serve us well, since that woman once was a faithful person and her blood will possess a natural affinity to the holy element, which is perfect for its intended purpose. I paid some locals to subtly inquire about her past, to make sure she had joined the monastery with her virginity still intact. Of course I will divine the purity of her blood after the extraction to gain certainty, but I believe I have picked the right corpse for the task. She must have been a beauty in her life, as her delicate body suggests even under all the rot and decay. It still shines through. A pity she never shared it with anyone. I shall restore it briefly to its former glory and appreciate it before I have to toss it to the worms again. On to the ritual now. By the powers vested in me by my Lord Anubis, I will restore the illusion of life to this hollow shell and make it blossom like a moonflower at night.
Entry II
Ah, what a sight to behold. I recall it as if I am still there: Under my careful ministrations the body restores itself to its past beauty, the memory of it still engraved within the decaying flesh. She lies before me as if only asleep, her pale cheeks showing a rosy hue, befitting a blushing maiden anticipating the first drawing of her blood. And bleed she does. When the blade parts her flesh like a lover's kiss would part her lips, her blood gushes and pours into the urn I am holding. Precious life that will give life to something entirely else. I hasten the extraction since the spell wears off soon. I feel a sting of sadness when I look at her. Why cannot our bodies be as perfect and eternal as our spirit? Such a waste...
And so it is done. I have stored the virginal blood in the special urns that will keep it from decomposing. The same cannot be said of the body though. It is slowly returning to its sorry state in which I have found it. Black spots blemishing the skin as the magic fades. I will need to return the body to its resting place as soon as possible, for I cannot stand its sight now that I have seen it in its former glory. My work for now is done. I have kept a bit of the blood for myself. One like me can always use such a priced alchemical ingredient. I know I will need to perform a ritual like this soon again. I just have to. It is in my blood to practice my holy craft and dance with the dead.
