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Awakening Khalon breathed heavily. He looked down upon the book again, and watched in amazement as the runes glowed with a faint light when he looked at them. As if they were alive, he thought. The Earl had brought him the massive tome after a battle against a horde of walking corpses. The noble knights of Le Bretonne had succeeded in sending the animated warriors back to rest, and the Earl himself had slain the necromancer leading the dead. He had ripped the book from the grip of the foul magician, who had vanished into nothing as he had done so. Being the most powerful sorcerer of the region Khalon had recieved the book to study it. He had found a piece of bone inserted between two pages as a macabre bookmark, and judged it important. Afterwards he had worked hard to translate the writing, and after 2 months of study he had succeded in partially uncovering the meaning. He read it through again as he had done it som many times the past time: "Ye spell will... ...access to great power. But such magic demands... ...sorcerer must in his quest for... ...further power... ...to allow the mighty... ...mortal... ...sacrifice a sorcerer must make if... ...upon ye world. ...himself great power... ...greater purpose. ...ye mighty one, one must read ye following spell out loud." After the text was a few thin lines of ancient words, never meant to be translated, never possible to. The page was written in blood, the letters glowing faintly with power. But reading what he had translated already, he felt sure that it was a spell meant to grant its user great power. If this power could be used for good causes it would be invaluable. His breath became even heavier. Slowly his lips parted, and a barely hearable whisper could be heard. "Ekh amon a solem kh'ci ra kolu mecn..." After long days and nights of considering he had finally had enough courage to read out the spell loud as the text bidded him to do. He had lighted the holy lights of The Lady of the Lake, blessed by Morgiana Le Fey herself. He had clad himself in white ropes covered in the sacred texts. A cross made of holy silver in his right hand, his left hand holding a gold goblet with sacred water, he read on. "...en rokec mel a nor'e m adel fron a'n ekelz..." His voice grew increasingly louder as the rythm of the chanting grapped him. He was further encouraged to go on by seeing that nothing happened, thinking that his relics protected him. The end of the text was rapidly coming closer, and in mixed relief and dissapointment he saw that nothing had happened so far, apart from the runes glowing increasingly as he read them out. He took a breath and completed the spell. "...roc me hac'qe he oden lok." Silence filled the room, and as Khalon looked around to find nothing unusual. He looked at the book. The runes glowed like fire now, but otherwise nothing had happened. Or so he thought. The book began to grow darker in colour, at first yellow, then browner to black. Small yellow flames began to lick the paper but Khalon knew better than to interrupt. Then in a second, the book was consumed by a ball of purple and yellow flame and Khalon was unsure if he had felt something move within his body. He felt it move again, and this time he was not in doubt. Something was indeed within his body. He reached out for the holy water, but before he could complete the move his body was lancerated by stings of infernal pain. He watched in terror and pain as a tiny claw penetrated the skin of his stomach, growing increasingly larger as it did. He felt his internal organs being torn apart, watched his lifeblood spill unto the floor. Another claw pierced his side, and he felt his back being torn to schreds as a pair of wings penetrated the weak skin. His vision tuning cloudy he suddenly saw the upper text in front of his eyes, the glowing letters floating in the air. It suddenly all made sense. "Ye spell will grant ye magicians army, god and loyal troopers access to great power. But such magic demands a great sacrifice. Ye sorcerer must in his quest for his gods further power use his own life, mortal vessel and ultimately his soul to allow the mighty one access to ye mortal plane. Such is ye sacrifice a sorcerer must make if he wish ye mighty one to manifest itself upon ye world. By doing such he will deny himself great power, but his mortal life will have served a greater purpose. To call ye mighty one, one must read ye following spell out loud." His last concious thought was that of faliure. Then everything vanished and the darkness of eternity took him. * * * With a roar the Lord of Change broke free from the mortal vessel of the bretonnian mage, and took a quick glance around to see where it was. Its huge claws effortlessly smashed the roof of the wizard's tower asunder, and with the sound of enormous wings it took off into the night to conquer souls in the land of Bretonnia for the pleasure of its sadistic, dark master. An era of terror had just begun...
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