[centre][h1][colour=black][b]Oradin-Thulemiz[/b][/colour][/h1]
[img]http://s33.postimg.org/akqcrumwv/rounded_corners.png[/img]
Level 1, 10 Khookies
[hider=Summary]Oradin-Thulemiz has grown.
He meets Bjorn, an Undead/Cursed man. They hit it off and Bjorn becomes Oradin-Thulemiz's first undead minion. 
They come across some Pack-Minds. Bjorn can speak their tongue.
Oradin-Thulemiz decides he wants them.
One thing leads to another, and he now leads a pack of some 30 Pack-Minds after defeating their Alpha (First-Wolf) in a duel of sorts. 
He declares himself the Great-Wolf.
They're going to go and hunt them some Treeminds! >:)

5 Khookies earned for post[/hider][/centre]

'Please man, jus' lemme go,' it was saying, 'I ain't gonna bite no one's 'ead off for god's sake, lemme the bloody heck down!' 
There was something familiar about it. It was doubtlessly dead, that was certainly familiar. But there was something else. A certain rancid smell to it. A certain impurity. A grievous imperfection.
[colour=black][b]'Who made you?'[/b][/colour] he asked. The undead looked down at him from where it hung, upside down, in the air.
'Who what now?'
[colour=black][b]'I asked: who made you?'[/b][/colour] it was indeed strange to see an undead creature look quizzical, but that was the expression on this one's face in that instant.
'Ain't no one what made me mate. I'm a self-made, respectable man I am. Worked 'ard on meself and made somethin' outta the nothin' I was given. I'm my own man, me. Ain't nobody can say that they are lord over m-'
[colour=black][b]'Be quiet.'[/b][/colour]
'Don't tell me what to do! I'm my own man. Ain't no one gonna tell me what to do just 'cause am a bit dead around the edges or a bit smelly on a hot d-'
[colour=black][b]'I said be quiet!'[/b][/colour]
'Oh! Oh! Is THAT how you're gonna be huh? Jus' lemme down and let us at it I'll show you quie-'
[colour=black][b]'I said be quiet damn you! Be quiet! Be quiet!'[/b][/colour] and he released the zombie from his ethereal grip and proceeded to thrash him with his bare hands even as the creature screeched abuses and cursed at its attacker.
'Self-made! Ain't nobody the lord of me! I'll never surrender! Come at me! Come at me I say! Oh, oh, chickenin' out are ya? Can't handle this, huh? What? You sayin' am scared, speak louder don't murmur under your breath! Too scared to talk to me like a ma- EEK!' a strange darkness had erupted from the adolescent's open palm, which subsequently blew off the undead man's right arm.
'Oh! Oh! That's how you're gonna play it huh? Can't take me out one-on-one so you're cheatin'? Come at me then! I can still take you down! 'tis but a flesh wound!' the next dark blast locked the undead's jaw and he was unable to continue speaking. And he could not control his own movement either, for that matter.

[colour=black][b]'You will do as I command you, insect, until I have purified you of your taint and uncovered who it is that has tainted you so,'[/b][/colour] he said coldly, [colour=black][b]'I am Oradin. Oradin-Thulemiz. I am your master and lord, your soul is in my hands.'[/b][/colour]
The undead looked, for the first time, upon this strange creature which claimed to be its master. A tall, skinny humanoid with hair so blond that it was almost white and so long that it reached the small of his back, and skin so pale and white one wondered whether it was snow. And his eyes, a startling blue, were bloodshot, and his lips were dark, and his ears were ever so slightly pointed.

[centre][img]https://s18.postimg.io/jjwgytso9/Necro_1.png[/img]

[i]The Boy who Grew Up[/i][/centre]

It was no human, the undead thought, but it was not like any undead it had ever seen or knew to exist - certainly not a lich, and certainly not a vampire.
[colour=black][b]'Now that we understand one another, I shall liberate your tongue. But see to it that it does not stray, for when I next sieze it, it shall be permanent,'[/b][/colour] and with that, the undead found itself once more in control of its mouth. Oradin-Thulemiz approached it and inspected its destroyed arm for a few moments, before laying a flat palm upon the stump. The undead watched with a certain degree of shock as the arm - the dead arm! - sprouted back.
'H-ho...th-thank you, Ora- uh, mast...Mister Oradithooliz,' Oradin-Thulemiz gave him a cool look before turning away and beginning to walk. The undead found itself following.
'Very nice to meet you Mister Oradithooliz. M'name's Bjorn. Thrilled to be in your service and all that,' Bjorn smiled expectantly but received no response.

'Must say Mister Oradithooliz, you have a mighty fine head o' hair on you. Would make the most well-groomed vampires jealous - and they're [i]really[/i] well-groomed, I can tell you that,' but once again the Necromancer made no response and simply continued walking.
'Must say Mister Oradithooliz, I've no idea how you've managed to get these lich-like powers while maintaining such beautiful physical form. Why, were I as sexually active as I was once, I'd have no qualms abo-'
[colour=black][b]'Be [i]quiet[/i]!'[/b][/colour]
'Y-yes. Of course Mister Oradithooliz. You just say the word and I'll...I'll. I'll just be quiet now,' and indeed, much to the Necromancer's surprise, the creature managed to maintain its silence. For exactly two hundred and thirty-six seconds. This led to the unfortunate happening of the ripping out of Bjorn's tongue - not that Bjorn felt any pain, of course.

Some days later, they had entered into a clearing and were passing from the Jungle-Tree and into the Forest-Tree when the Necromancer stopped and raised his head to the skies.
'Ah. That is familiar. I must uncover whose familiar meddling...' and even as he spoke to himself, two huge creatures emerged from the undergrowth and into the clearing, growling and snarling. They looked very much like wolves, but were humanoid in form. And they were far larger than either the Necromancer or Bjorn. They snarled to one another before jumping forth towards the Necromancer.

Oradin-Thulemiz spread his arms wide and the black energies erupted from his palms, flooding about him and sending the two Pack-Minds scrambling from his direct vicinity. Bjorn could only stare, fixed in place by the will of the Necromancer. At last he managed to speak - for as with Bjorn's arm, the Necromancer had later somehow healed his tongue.
'They're only curious! They mean no harm!' the Necromancer looked back to his minion.
[colour=black][b]'You understand them?'[/b][/colour] and at this Bjorn smiled.
'Of course I do. Did you ever doubt that great I would not be able to understand beings so simple and lowly as these wh-'
[colour=black][b]'Be quiet!'[/b][/colour] came his master's cruel voice, [colour=black][b]'and bid them come and be seated, and tell them that I command them tell me who their master is; whose aura ebbs like a tumorous smoke from them?'[/b][/colour]
Bjorn stared at the Necromancer for a few seconds before muttering something along the lines of 'tumorous smoke?! What a verbose, circumlocutory ba...'

The Necromancer watched as the undead grunted and snarled at the humanoid wolves and they grunted and snarled in response. They did not approach the Necromancer or sit down as he commanded, and Bjorn soon turned to his master and spoke.
'They didn't say much. Something about the great gods of the skies, the moon-goddess. Worakawa the First-Wolf - who appears to be their leader - was mentioned too. Don't think these guys have masters, Mister Orad-'
[colour=black][b]'Not masters, fool. Who [i]created[/i] them. Their aura, their aura. It is the same as yours. He meddled with them who meddled with you, you all reek of it. He must be a powerful magicker indeed to create [i]living life[/i].'[/b][/colour]
Bjorn once more looked quizzical.
'Uh, not sure if we're on the same page here, Mister Oradithooliz. Don't know of these "magickers" you're talkin' about. Ain't nothing can make nothing but gods. Take me for instance, some say it was Reathanatos that made us Cursed, but he ain't about that kind of thing - he's more into the mindless undead kind of thing. He#s the god of death after all, y'know? Plus, ain't no one but Vestec crazy enough to make me!' at the mention of Vestec's name, the Necromancer's eyes widened and he turned upon Bjorn with an almost crazed fury, though he knew not from where the fury stemmed or why.
[colour=black][b]'[i]Vestec[/i]!'[/b][/colour] he hissed, towering above the confused Bjorn. The name clearly triggered something within the Necromancer, for the fury in his eyes very quickly cooled and a little thoughtfulness entered them, [colour=black][b]'yes. That makes sense. Those mindless undead had a very different air about them. Purer.'[/b][/colour]

With that, the Necromancer approached the large wolves, asking Bjorn what they were called.
'Pack-Minds, Mister Oradithooliz, thas what they're called.'
The larger Pack-Mind looked visibly irritated by the Necromancer's approach, but made no attempt to escape. Perhaps it realised that it was standing before something that was not of this world.
[colour=black][b]'I would very much like to keep these creatures, Bjorn. Tell them that I am now their master, not this Worakawa creature.'[/b][/colour]
'Eh? You can't just tell them that, Mister Oradithooliz. You need to earn yer place in the pack. Only way you can become master over them is by becoming the First-Wolf. And only way you can do that is by beating the incumbent. They're strange ones, these Pack-Minds. Why, I've seen entire packs led by ogres sometimes, just 'cause he happened to wrestle power from their alpha. Not like real wolves now. If you ever seen real pack wolves they don't obey anything what's not a wolf. And I watched them well enough and long enough to know that them wolves are all fa-'
[colour=black][b]'Be quiet! Damn your ever-blabbering mouth! Just show me to this First-Wolf of theirs.'[/b][/colour]
'Oh no, Mister Oradithooliz, you really can't. They live off the Bearmen, these Pack-Minds. And no one with half a brain would ever want to go up against a Bearma-'
[colour=black][b]'By all things dead! Do you never just [i]shut up[/i]?!'[/b][/colour]
Bjorn's shoulders visibly slumped and he shook his head in defeat.
'Fiiiine...'

They walked behind the Pack-Minds for a few moments before the Necromancer suddenly stopped.
'Everything ok, Mister Oradithooliz?'
[color=black][b]'You mentioned one...Reathanatos.'[/b][/color]
'Ah, yes. The God of the Dead,' Bjorn made a twirled his hands around as he said it. The Necromancer looked at him coldly and swept past the Vestecian undead, speaking as he went.
[colour=black][b]'Bjorn. [i]I[/i] am the god of death.'[/b][/colour]

[centre]***[/centre]

[colour=black][b]'Tell them this: I am Oradin-Thulemiz, I am the Necromancer Lord, I am [i]I Remember Not What I Am[/i], but I am the terror of a bygone world, and the purifier of it. And I shall be here. I am the God of Death. Tell them that I have come to take my rightful place in the heavens. I am their master and commander. They shall do as I command them, and they shall die.'[/b][/colour]
At Bjorn's translation, the seated Pack-Minds rose, some growlng angrily and others yapping and - was that laughter? The largest of the pack slowly approached the Necromancer, and stared down upon his challenger.
'And that,' Bjorn said, 'is the First-Wolf; Worakawa.'

The thirty or so other Pack-Minds formed a circle around the challenger and his opponent, and the Necromancer looked around at them defiantly. So it was as Bjorn had said it would be, they would not accept him till he defeated the incumbent leader.
[colour=black][b]'Do they kill one another in these things, or would it be best to cut him up a bit?'[/b][/colour] he asked Bjorn as he spread his arms wide and the dark energies began flowing from his palms.
'Till one of you acknowledges the other's victory,' came Bjorn's response, swiftly followed by a lightning-quick strike from Worakawa which cut deep into the Necromancer's chest. Blood and flesh sprayed through the air, and a massive gash was left in the challenger's chest. 

The First-Wolf seemed to grin. The Necromancer did grin.

Wound after wound was given to the magicker, and gash after gash made its home in his body. But yet he did not fall, and he did not die.

[color=black][b]'You know, no one knows of this, but I have a secret little book, and in it are written terrible things. I suspect it was I that wrote it, but I have no memory of such things. Let me show you,'[/b][/color] and with that, the dark energies of the Necromancer began congealing before him, and his wounds began closing and his previously white skin appeared a light green to all who looked, and even his eyes dimmed and seemed to become a glowing, yellowish green. And his previously pure hair was also dirtied, and became the yellow of urine. And around him all was dark. But before him a book glowed.

[centre][img]https://s12.postimg.io/wjzhb1b7h/Necro_2.png[/img][/centre]

'B-but...but how? That's impossible! You're not...not a lich, not Cursed...' Bjorn was blabbering fearfully.
[colour=black][b]'I am [i]Death Incarnate[/i]. I am...I...was...[i]the Embodiment of the Purity of Death[/i]! And so shall I be once more...'[/b][/colour] he lowered his gaze and looked within the book, and he spoke words only a long-gone child-god of knowledge knew.
[color=black][b]'Irkai'Il,'[/b][/color] he commanded. And all who were standing found themselves upon their knees fighting an impossible pressure which commanded them kneel.
[color=black][b]'Worakawa, Mawon Sayer'Dok,'[/b][/color] and the First-Wolf, resistance still aflame in his eyes, looked defiantly at the one who commanded him concede. It was but a few seconds, and the wolf lowered his head. And all others did so.

[color=black][b]'It is I, Oradin-Thulemiz. It is I, the Great-Wolf.'[/b][/color]
Bjorn swallowed, 'you do sure like...how can I say it...extremes. Ain't no inbetween with you, is there Mister Oradithooliz,' the Necromancer cocked his head and thought on Bjorn's remarks.
[color=black][b]'I work in absolutes, Bjorn,'[/b][/color] and Bjorn nodded, though he knew not what that meant. And perhaps even the Necromancer who spoke knew not what it was he spoke. For it was, perhaps, a higher being that spoke.

And the book disentegrated into darkness, and the necromantic energies once more retreated into the palms of the Necromancer. But his body, now a light hue of green and with death and decay festering within it, and his pale yellow-green eyes, all remained. It was as though it had discovered something closer to its true form and was loath to return to any form which was less pure. The lich-like being (though it was certainly no lich! That Bjorn could say for certain. Or if it was, it was like no lich which had ever walked Galbar) looked upon its new minions. They were imperfect, tainted with the greatest corruption of all: life! But it knew itself too weak to purify and improve them. It would have to wait.

[colour=black][b]'Come, let us go hunt these- what did you call them Bjorn?'[/b][/colour]
'Bearmen, Mister Oradithooliz...sir,' Oradin-Thulemiz nodded.
[colour=black][b]'Let us go pay these Bearmen a visit.'[/b][/colour]