Void magic uses the Old Twit's permissions to bend and warp my world's laws. Standard magic uses mana to do the same.
Necromancy is a bit strange in that it uses life energy.
You see the weirdness? How can a magic devoted to death use life as its source of power? It sounds wrong. You'd expect it to use death energy or something. That'd be the logical assumption.
However, death has no energy. Death is the final form. It is inert. It is entropy.
So, there's nothing to use.
Necromancers pull life energy from surrounding sources and condense it enough to perform little tricks. Like putting that life energy into a corpse to make it move about like horrid little puppets.
There's nothing terribly difficult about draining life to power your spells. It's s easy that even priests can do it. In fact, most necromancers come from religious orders. They've gotten so used to seeing rituals involving the cleansing of corpses that they start to wonder how they might personally gain from them.
Soon, they start draining life and making little rat zombies and then it escalates to raising people.
The difficulty lies in condensing the life energy.
There's not much of it about, you see. It's a rare and precious energy which exists only inside living beings. And, in the immediate vicinity, there were only two of us. I had already set arrays to block any attempts to drain my guests.
I hoped he couldn't wriggle past my hastily-constructed arrays or else I would not be very gentlemanly tonight. Such angels didn't deserve to have their life energy taken from them by such a perverted little practitioner as Reginald.
Which brings us to the idea of a necromantic duel.
When two necromancers duel, it immediately starts with two shields.
I cast mine as soon as I had finished speaking.
The shield would protect me from his attempts to drain my life and use it as a resource.
His own shield should, in theory, protect him from mine.
This meant both of us ought to be pulling life from the only source available.
Ourselves.
Drain too much of your own life energy and you will die. It was as simple as that.
This turns a duel of necromancers into a game of chicken as it tests which necromancer values their own life the most. By tradition, the game doesn't usually end with death but instead with submission.
As a gentleman, I was not inclined towards that sort of thing.
Reginald held a ball of green energy above his palm. It floated like a globule of acid. With a snarl, he threw it at me.
Pure condensed life energy.
If it hit me, it would burn through my flesh and invade my body. The putrid goo would slowly eat at my brain, turning me into a living dead creature bound to his will.
I hadn't been idle, though.
I had already condensed a ball about a tenth of the size of his and with a flick of my wrist shot it at the incoming projectile.
"Too small!" He cackled with glee.
"It's not how big it is," I cackled back as my ball smashed into his and exploded them both in a shower of glittering green shards. "It's what you do with it."
"Keep telling yourself that," he growled.
I pursed my lips.
I hated losing in the banter segment of a duel, but I had to let him have that one.
I consoled myself with the fact there would be more opportunities very soon.
"Your mistake," he hissed, his eyes flaring brightly. "Was not closing the door!"
"Ugh." I flinched as I realised what he meant.
Slowly, one by one, five zombies shuffled into the room through the glowing coffin-shaped doorway behind him.
They gave a collective groan.
"My minions," he greeted them adoringly, his eyes wide and his smile genuinely unpleasant. I half-expected him to pat them on the head. Or in other unmentionable places. I really wanted to throw up. "Kill!"
Clearly, he was testing my skills as a necromancer, and rightfully so.
The exchange of life energy at the beginning of a duel is sort of traditional. It tests their condensing ability. Reginald had judged me weak.
This is the only reason he had brought this small group through.
He could have brought a horde. Or even a ghoul or two.
That would have been a proper display of strength.
But if he'd brought out his best creature now, even a weak necromancer such as myself might have enough life energy to deal with it. Zombies were minor nuisances to any necromancer worth his bones, and thus they were just another test of my strength and resolve.
And, as their stench had me ready to gag, they were also a test of my patience.
"Weak," I muttered to myself with a wave of my hand that send threads of life energy whipping out from each finger.
The threads connected each digit to an individual zombie. As the thread dove into their chests, they shuddered and paused mid-step. They struggled, but there was no point.
Zombies were fragile things.
I drained the life force which had been used to revive them and, as one, they slumped to the ground to stain the floor of Clover's room.
A thick rank puddle oozed into a puddle under them.
Disgusting creatures.
"So, you've at least mastered the First Degree," he said sourly. He hadn't expected that. "Who was your master? What Order are you from?"
"Me," I said. "And mine."
"Insolent!" He hissed. "You claim to be a master?"
"At least a High Grand Poobah," I said.
"You dare to mock me?" His eyes slitted dangerously. "You can't win today, void mage. I have ghouls. I have even unlocked the secrets of creating an Abomination!"
"But you haven't created it yet," I said.
"I am close!"
"Ah," I said, understanding. "The Book of Charnal Delights. Hooper and Cross. You think it's here in the tower."
"Wistandantilon was known to have the last remaining copy," he said. "Give it to me, and I might let you serve me in your living body. Refuse, and I will turn you into mindless undead!"
"I traded it."
"You what?"
"I traded it for a copy of Croyden's Marks of the Mana Serpant," I said. "That's much more interesting than necromancy. You do know you stink, don't you? It doesn't matter how many times you wash your robes, you can't lose the smell of decay. You absolutely reek of it. You know, the real challenge for me in duelling you is just trying to control my stomach."
"Who?" He howled in frenzy. "Who did you give it to?"
"I don't recall," I said. "I'd have to ask Grimsby."
"Who?"
"My butler."
"There's no need." He stared at me, his face livid and sweat dripping down his cheeks. "I'll kill you, and then ask him myself."
As he lifted his wand, I raised a hand.
"One moment," I said. "If I may, I have a question. I've searched everywhere for an answer to it, but I can't find anything on how a lich manages to move through shadows like they do. Do you know?"
He blinked.
"A lich?" He frowned. "Move through shadows? I've never heard of such absurdity. Are you trying to stall for time? Well, I won't have it. Whatever you're trying to do, I, Reginald Finch, shall make it undone!"
A blast of life energy spewed from his wand towards me. The stream of bright green threatening to tear into me.
With a disappointed click of my tongue, I spun up a shield of life energy and tried to hold it in place.
Where death is entropy, life is chaos.
It can't be still.
It struggled as I held it in place, buckling under the wave of energy being blown at me by the High Grand Necromancer. His power was commendable. His stamina quite fair.
But his determination to wear me down and kill me was forcing him to use more of his own life than I had expected him to. Most necromancers were cowards.
Reginald, though, was something to be feared.
He was stubborn.
I grimaced as the wave of energy splashed against my shield. Shards of green dropped to the floor like powdered glass. The constant thrum of life in my ears like a heartbeat.
I felt my shield begin to splinter as my concentration wavered.
While I felt confidant with some elements of necromancy, duels had never been my cup of tea. I preferred to avoid necromancers. I'd say it wasn't personal, but it was.
My nasal passages were feeling very weary.
Grunting, I pushed back with the shield, letting a little more of my life seep into it. Not too much, of course. I did enjoy living.
"You are nothing!" He cackled. "Your power is less than a Third Degree!"
"I'm still alive," I spat.
"Not for long…"
Gah! Why was I losing the banter segments?
"Ridiculous," I hissed.
Then the flood abruptly cut off and I staggered back with a gasp. Condensing life energy always gave me a headache, and this time was no different. I could already feel the beginning of a migraine.
I really needed another gin and tonic.
I pushed that thought to the centre of my brain as Reginald motioned to the doorway and a dark figure lumbered through. It was tall and broad, covered in dark black steel armor runed with glistening green runes.
Grim yellow light shone between the slits of the helm which served as eyes.
It hefted a heavy axe.
Its evil armor groaned like a haunted thing as it knelt for its master, who gently stroked the black feathery plume on the creature's helm.
The dreadful undead being shivered under the touch like a delighted dog. If it had had a tail, I'm sure it would be wagging.
"Behold," he said, pride in his voice. "I will let you see the pinnacle of my achievements. I know. I know the fear you feel. And the resentment. You could only dream of creating such a being. In the whole world, I am the only one who has managed to go this far. You see? There was no hope for you from the start."
"A Dark Knight?" I pressed my fingers to my temple as I swayed on my feet. I honestly wasn't sure how much more life energy I could condense. While I was sure I had more than he did, it had been a long time since I'd had to do so. "That's it? That's your best? I expected a Banshee at the very least. How disappointing."
Gin and tonic.
Gin and tonic.
"Bah! Insolent!" He raised an arm and smiled a cruel smile which made me jealous. I wished I could smile like that. "Kill him!"
A dark and terrifying presence suddenly descended on the room as the Dark Knight took a step toward me.
Thunder rolled in the distance, ominous and threatening.
Death had arrived.