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I need some help with my necromancer...he needs a name!!!! Here is where he appears...and sorry for grammer and other mistakes in this peice. I am still editing it.
A lone man stood in the center of a ruined graveyard, his head thrown back, and his arms outstretched. Each foot rested on a fallen gravestone, cracked and crumbling below his perfectly polished shoes. The man stood so still, that if the wind had not fluttered the ends of his black hair he would seem a statue, placed just so in the silent cemetery to watch over the long dead. Even his old fashioned clothing, smooth and without wrinkles made him look ever more so like a statue. His black suit covered his tall, lean frame and made his pale skin stand out ghost like. Each of his fingers were crooked, pointing to the ground, their nails painted silver that glowed in the faint moonlight that shone from behind the clouds.
Around the man the old graveyard lay in crumbling ruin. Most of the headstones had fallen long ago and some had even crumbled into dust, only small pieces of granite left to mark that they had ever existed. Tall waving grass flowed about the graveyard, swaying to and fro in the gentle breeze. The blades closest to the lone man in the graveyard seemed to lean towards him, as if yearning to reach out and touch him. Pathways that had been once so carefully tended and cleaned were now covered in fallen stones, branches and leaves. Mice scrambled over the pathways, and snakes followed their tracks.
For a whole hour the man remained motionless, each minute that passed made him look more and more like a marble statue, carefully carved and cleaned. He stood quite out of place in the fallen graveyard, to perfect and clean. At last the man lowered his head. Opening his eyes he looked straight ahead without blinking, his eyes were pure white with no pupil. Bending over he picked up his dusty top hat, and shook the dust from it with a disdained air. Wiping a finger across the brim of the hat, the man brought his dusty finger to his nose and sniffed, the sound eerily loud in the silence. "Good," the man said. His voice hissing and cold, echoing off the trees. The one word seemed to suck the life out of the air around him.
Closing his eyes once again, the man placed the top hat on his head, and right as he did so two strands of hair fell into his eyes, the strands of his black hair had been dyed blood red. Irritated the man brushed them away and settled the top hat on his head. Parting his death white lips the man licked his lips to wet them, and his tongue was pure black and rotten. "Let us begin," he hissed and began to chant. Each word was hardly more then a hiss, and it was impossible to understand what was being said. As the chant went on, the words melded together into one, horrible sound. It was a hiss, a whisper of death and decay, the promise of pain and fear. The animals of the graveyard stopped where they stood, and as one began to shiver in dread.
Below the man's feet the headstones moved, the pieces that had fallen from them coming back together with a soft thud and a cloud of dust. Taking no notice the man kept chanting, his voice growing louder and more forceful. All around him, headstones were coming together and standing up as if they had just been placed. The graves cleared of grass and leaves. A wave of power went through the graveyard and when it touched the quivering animals they shook violently and fell to the ground dead. All the grass turned brown, and the few wildflowers wilted.
When the man quieted his voice and opened his eyes, the graveyard had been repaired. Every crypt and grave returned to its former glory. The man uttered a sharp barking command, in the same language and all the dirt flew from the graves. In a nearby tree a flock of songbirds fell from their tree and landed on the ground dead.
And as one, the coffin lids flew open and something within each of them stirred.