It was the dead of night and the moon cast its faint silvery glow on a small village somewhere south of Paterdomus, in the foothills of the Hindrun Ranges. In the town was a small church, and next to it was the sealed stone entrance into an underground crypt. Inside the crypt was total darkness, but if it wasn't dark one would see coffins stacked efficiently into stone shelves in the walls with engravings beneath them detailing the name, date of birth, date of death and perhaps a little note about family or community contributions of each person in each coffin. The crypt was set out with a 30 meter long corridor which branched every 5 meters, giving more room to stack coffins. For such a small town it was no small crypt, so it must have been around for a very long time. It was evident that it had been extended numerous times since its initial development, as the stonework differed in quality and wear from section to section. Dust lightly coated most of the place, but not all of it as it becomes unsettled whenever a new body is added or someone comes to check on their deceased relative. There was also the obligatory cobwebs, present in small quantities. At the far end of the hallway was a rather ornate tomb, which clearly belonged to someone who had been held in great regard by the people of the town. Whoever lay in there had been there for a very long time. [i]Thud[/i] The muffled noise of something hitting stone came from within the tomb at the end of the crypt. [i]Thud[/i] Dust on the lid of the tomb jumped as it shuddered. [i]Thud[/i] A light sprinkling of dust fell from the edges of nearby coffins. [i]Thud![/i] More dust scattered as the tomb began to succumb to the strain. [i]Crack![/i] The stone lid of the tomb split apart as a skeletal hand broke its way through. The hand gripped the edge of the tomb and pulled itself out, along with a whole skeleton. The flesh of the corpse had long rotted away, leaving only rot-grey bones. An ancient robe dressed the skeleton, so old it looked ready to crumble to dust at the slightest breeze. The robe revealed that the man had probably been a wizard when he was alive, a hypothesis confirmed when the skeleton reached into the tomb and pulled out an engraved wooden staff which had been buried with him. Then there was the eyes, or eye sockets. Instead of being empty holes in the skull, the eyes of this skeleton was ablaze with a black, shadowy fire which cast no light. The face, made entirely of bone, was locked in an eternal skeletal grin, as there was no flesh to make expressions with. The skeleton stood and looked around the crypt. The darkness did not inhibit his vision. On the contrary, he felt right at home, in the darkness among the dead. The skeleton struck the cold stone floor with the base of his staff and the black flame burst forth from that point for a moment. A few seconds later dark figures rose from the floor, although they would be indistinguishable from the darkness of the crypt to the human eye. When they finished rising there were four shadowy apparitions standing before the skeleton, no taller than three feet, and each was in the shape of an imp. However, they had no features, for they were merely ghostly shadows, made from black flame like that in the skeleton's eyes. A hollow, inhuman voice resonated from within the skeleton. "I am Calvartem the Necromancer. Turn this tomb into a throne fit for me so I may have a place to call my Heart." The imps, voiceless, nodded and glided towards the tomb. In their ghostly hands ghostly tools materialised, but the tools were more than able to chisel away the stone. As the imps chipped away, Calvartem walked slowly through the crypt, inspecting the coffins and looking at the bodies within. Although the prior occupant of this body may have known some of the names, that prior occupant was no more so he knew not and cared not of the people of this town other than their potential as an army or a threat. His bony feet clicked on the stone floor, the sounds echoing around the crypt with its hard stone walls. After a while of patient waiting the chiselling stopped and the crypt was suddenly quieter, signalling that the imps had finished their work. Calvartem turned and looked upon his new throne. It was stone, which would make it uncomfortable for any creature of flesh, but that did not matter to the Necromancer. The armrests and the headrest was decorated with a carved bone motif- an impressive addition in such a short period of time. Calvartem walked towards the throne and sat down approvingly. Then, at a wave of his hand, two of the four imps simply dissolved into the darkness from which they came. To the remaining two imps he commanded, "Guard the entrance. Make sure I am not disturbed at any cost." The imps simply went off and did as they were told, while the Necromancer sat and released his spirit from the bounds of his body. There he began designing and creating the first being which would be part of his undead horde. First minion: 0/3 Calvartem the Necromancer- a Keeper, inhabiting the skeleton of a long-dead wizard, complete with old robes and wooden staff. His eyes burn with a light-less black fire.