A Stirring

Nimorra was not the first nor the last. Yet, she was still malleable to his will. For years he had been straining against the wards of the Inquisition and had failed spectacularly in all but one way. They could keep him encaged but they could not stop his power. The young mage Severos Aven, on the other hand, had been a difficult vessel to possess, but an invaluable one in knowledge. He had hoped for a mage and had gotten one. If he had cared anymore, he would have thanked the gods. Instead, he set to work poisoning the young wizard's mind, tempting him to allow him possession.

Severos had done what any sensible mage would have done and sealed him in lead, under the earth. That had aggravated him. Still, he knew the world had changed in 100 years. Soon, he knew he would be free. The bindings that held him within the Mortith would soon be loosened enough to break out himself. All he had to do was wait and steadily apply pressure to the wards. Slowly but methodically, he had stretched his will out through the wards. Aven was his; if not immediately, then soon as the darkness took over his soul.

It was then that something happened even he could not have predicted. The acquisition of new hands upon the tome along with the return of Necrosis. No longer sheathed in lead, he set to work slowly pulling at his cult. From Aven, he knew that his cult had been destroyed. Nimorra had lived still despite the ages as his taint slowly called to those loyal. He had given Nimorra her assurance.

The only still loyal to me. Traitors….

Nimorra's small group would have to do for his resurrection. Still, so long as he was chained, he could do little. Of course, he did not expect Aven to return even as a new power plucked at his bonds as well. It was a curious power, one he had never sensed before. Yet Aven and company, in a display of teamwork and prowess, had defeated the holder of the Mortith after handily tracking him.

He would wait. As he always did…