Joseph Serin

Joseph Serin was born in France circa 500 CE (our time, not I Blame Danny time) and, with a name lost in time, lead the life of a peasant. Until the world's most renown necromancer came to his little town seeking an apprentice. Joseph's family had been working in the undertaking business for centauries and he was chosen because of his obvious fascination with things others found morbid. He left his family and his younger brother took his place as rightful ere to the family trade.

Several years passed and the necromancer slowly taught Joseph all he could understand. During the time his master and Joseph were not together in study, Joseph would practise his skills and attempt to increase his power, while the necromancer tended to his family and his books.

Joseph soon found he was growing in wisdom, but not in age. He approached his mentor and asked why. The necromancer explained that his immense power was resonating within Joseph and it was preserving not only his body, but every living and un-living thing for miles.

Upon learning this, Joseph requested a small amount of time away from his teacher to check on his family. The necromancer agreed. When Joseph returned home, he found nearly thirty years had passed, but his body was no more then a few months older. He left quietly, but not before stirring rumours that he had died on his journey to the necromancer's abode. Of course gossip never stays true to its origins and soon the whole town blamed the necromancer for Joseph's apparent death.

Some more time passed, and the great necromancer was nearing the completion of his two rewrites of the Ancient Books of the Dead. One which he translated, quite well, into English (having been born in England, he was an English necromancer), and one in was translated, rather poorly, into French with the aid of Joseph. However, before he could finish translating the pivotal final chapter into French, the necromancer burst out in utter frustration. Joseph, sensing his master's anger with the fact that Joseph was not very literate, took it upon himself to leave and not return until he was more fluent in both English and French.

A few years passed and eventually the necromancer's scouts found Joseph living in a library. The necromancer felt he should speak to Joseph directly and left his home, his family, and his army behind when he went to talk with Joseph. This proved to be a fatal mistake, for shortly after he had convinced Joseph to return, a massive army of The British Royal Knights attacked the necromancer's home and slew all living and dead things that moved.

The necromancer returned to the ashes of his home and the corpses of his loved ones. In honour of his wife's requests, he did not resurrect her or their children, but this did not stop him from amassing a new army from the remains of his last one. Luckily the knights had not found his secret library and the Books of the Dead were still safe from harm. However, in his blind rage the necromancer burned all but the five most powerful books he had. These were: The Two Translations (the French one of which was still incomplete), the Phoenician Tome, the Egyptian Tome, and the Sumerian Tome.

He then returned to the town where he acquired Joseph with the intent of finding out who murdered his family. He was shocked to find that the townspeople his magic had protected for so long had turned against him, blaming him for the deaths and disappearances of everyone who had ever perished or vanished in the town. This further enraged the necromancer, but he remained the benevolent protector of the town . . . until he discovered that they sent for the British Knights. In a fit of pure rage he ordered his minions to lay waste to the town, and all nearby villages. Then he had them muster all the resources and bodies from each.

Joseph knew this was all his fault. If he had not been so foolish as to start the rumours none of this would have happened. But he knew there was no way he could change the past and decided to aid his vengeful master. Within a week the lands had been harvested completely and the undead minions began building weapons of steel. When all the steel was used and too many minions were left unarmed, several minions were sacrificed to create more weapons; of bone blessed with undead energy. Still, the soldiers were left with a few troops that had no weapons. The necromancer did not want to expend anymore minions, so he ordered that all the coal that was not used up during the forging of the steel armaments was to be magically reformed into grim devices of war.

Finally, all his minions were armed . . . except for Joseph. The necromancer noticed this just prior to setting out across the water and had a special bastard sword made for Joseph. It was far too large for any mortal to wield, but Joseph's strength was amplified by his master. The blade, which was made of the purest, most finely pressed coal, was well over three times the height of Joseph, and about one and half times wider. Its dark edge was fastened to a hilt made of bone covered with steel, that looked too small to hold the great weight of the sharp coal . . . yet it did.

With this final detail dealt with the necromancer began his battle quest. He and Joseph, as well as five skeletal magi carrying the Five Books of Necromancy, boarded the finest ship they could find, while the minions of undead walked under the water to their destination.

It was short trip with the aid of the necromancers wrath-strengthened magic and soon the undead mass was marching towards the greatest stronghold of the Knights of the Table, destroying or devouring everything in their path.

The army arrived at the castle just prior to dawn and the necromancer felt confident that victory would soon be his. The battle began when the King of Briton came forward from his castle and demanded that all undead be destroyed, as it was the will of the One True God. The necromancer would have laughed at this remark had he not been so enraged and he ordered for the swift, yet painful, death to the king who dare oppose him and murder his family.

However, the battle did not go well for the necromancer at first. In his haste and fit of rage, he forgot to equip his minions with adequate shielding and armour. The Knights and Dragoons made quick work of the unprotected masses of rotting flesh bound by magic, much as a skilled farmer can reap tall plants with a scythe. Absolutely disgusted by this brazen display, the necromancer had his five skeleton magi cast the most deadly spells they could muster.

Soon the entire battlefield was converted into a mass of exploding flesh as the bodies of the slain erupted violently, releasing noxious fumes and pestilence into the air. The British troops were so delirious from the smell they did not notice their comrades being quickly defeated by the now reinvigorated undead.

Yet, throughout all this, no one noticed the small, silent figure which crept quickly towards the necromancer from behind. In an instant the necromancer was face down on that cold earth and blood was seeping from his side. Joseph took heed of his master falling and quickly dispatched the assassin before his strength gave way. As the living energy from the necromancer spilled out onto the ground, the undead energy that bound his minions also began to wane. Seeing this Joseph realised it was up to him to maintain the army's power. He struggled with the numerous minds of the soulless corpses but eventually gained enough control of them to keep the mass pressing forward on the fortress of the British King.

During his last moments, the necromancer desperately sought refuge from death, not prepared to die until he was certain his family was avenged. He found his shelter within the blade which Joseph had dropped when his body's strength ebbed away. He freed the five magi from his will after instructing them to hide and guard each of the books in a distant place. Of course, each skeleton had lived a different life, and each one's opinion of "distant" was quite different, but so long as all five books were never brought together again by a non-necromancer, all existence should remain somewhat safe. Each of the magi departed in there own unique manner, and the necromancer began his final spell.

Joseph was doing well to maintain the troops, though he only narrowly averted a potential stalemate when a rather large Knight was rendered unconscious by a mess of thrown rocks. Had that Knight have remained awake, Joseph would not have gained anymore leverage in the battle.

Feeling another course of energy in his body, Joseph decided to pick his sword up again. However, this was just a tactic used by the necromancer to complete the ritual he needed to remain "alive". Without realising it, Joseph had become a "lightning rod" of ethereal magic. The blade which he now held was drawing in all nearby free spirits and lost souls, forcing them to convert the blade into a half-way decent abode for the necromancer's ghost.

In a matter of minutes, and without Joseph noticing, the blade had become superheated and shrank. It had become diamond of the finest grade, cursed and blessed with the souls and spirits of more then a thousand dead. Then one more joined them, and dominated them. The necromancer's body lay lifeless, and soulless in the reddened mud.

The battle would have been won by Joseph, if it wasn't for Arthur. This Man came riding out of the castle gate upon a horse of such power it felt as if the ground quaked each time it took a step. He hacked his way straight up to Joseph, and Joseph prepared himself. Just as Arthur was in range of Joseph's sword, he swung. However, Joseph failed to realise his blade was a great deal smaller then it use to be and he missed, fell forward, and landed face down in the mud.

Moments later he choked, suffocated, and died.

The minions simply fell. The battle was over. The Britons had won, and the necromancer was livid!

He realised that without Joseph alive, he never stood a chance to avenge his family. However, due to the nature that was the magic that bond him within the blade, if he were to resurrect Joseph he would never be capable of communicating with him, or anyone ever again.

Joseph lay in the mud for nearly a day, as peasants and countrymen collected the undead minions and burned their rotting bodies. Knowing he could never trust any of them to bring him back from the blade, the necromancer decided to restore Joseph with the small hope that one day Joseph would realise what had happened and raise his soul out of the sword and into a proper body.

As Joseph raised his head, he thought he could hear the voice of his master reciting an arcane passage. He gazed at the battlefield; now lost. He realized (in part) what had transpired. He knew that he had died, and that somehow his master brought him back . . . but his mentor was still in the same place he was the day before, still covered in his own blood; still, lifeless, gone. Joseph fled.

Now, over fifteen hundred years later, Joseph still hasn't come to understand the true power of the blade he still carries with him. All he knows is he feels much stronger when it is in his hand, and remarkably powerful when the blade is lodged in his body.

After many successful occupations, Joseph had become quite wealthy. Realising the incredible value of his sword as both a relic and a large mass of diamond, he decided to coat it in platinum.

And now, in the prime of his afterlife, Joseph is working alongside some of the most bizarre living entities on the planet. Joseph (nicknamed Dead by those same coworkers) longs for a time when he can finally die and enter the ultimate restful slumber. However, he has found that even those things that would destroy any normal undead do not phase him in the slightest. He has determined that he still has a part to play in history before he may finally retire.

PostScript: Arthur, thought to have perished long ago, had in fact found one of the Five Books. Without understanding its true power he had one of his sages read from it. Now Arthur is immortal. He still seeks to destroy all necromancy, but he is torn by the fact that he is now what he loathes the most: undead.