Far beneath the deserted cemetary, the ancient catacombs echoed the
eerie silence of death.       Dust-laden cobwebs hung low from the ceiling
and walls, waiting for some slight movement to dislodge them.    Such a
movement had not come in quite a while, and so they waited in the
dark stillness...

But deep within the catacombs, deeper than even the long-dead
builders had even intended, there was... something.   Sound
and movement where there should be none... a cracked, jagged
hole where there had once been smoothe aged marble.     In the
chamber beyond, grotesque shadows danced in the light from a
small, blood-red fire.    Atop the flame sat a small pot, in which a
concoction of blood,  herbs, roots, and animal bones boiled
vigorously.    The thick scent that rose from it was neither foul nor
pleasant... it simply was.

A lone figure loomed before the flame, his body taller an leaner... far
leaner... than any that could normally be called human.    His skin, old
and brown and leathery, hung from his bones like soiled rags.   His bald
head glistened in the unnatural light.

In one clawed hand, the necromancer held a collection of broken
glass shards that had been brought to him.    The shards ahd been
touched by a spirit, and now held the rapidly-fading echoes of that
spirits essence.

N'Doki peered into the glass as if he expected them to move or speak.
They did neither, but the necromancer did both.     He mumbled arcane
words and waved his left hand over the glass... as his hand passed, the
sharp shards glowed and hummed.

"Seh Kabali,"   N'Doki continued in an ancient tongue .   "Seh
Liwo.    Jezace  Huazzid Ezyw.    Seh Ebyr."

He repeated these words again, and then a third and forth time.  He
chanted them continuously as he stared down at the glass.  His words of
power echoed off of the rough stone walls, and by his sixth repetition,
some strange trick of acoustics began to made it seem as if the words were
being spoken by several different voices...

Still chanting, N'Doki extended his skeletal arm and dumped the glowing
glass into the pot.  The unholy mixture accepted the offering without a
splash or a sound...

"Watchers of de dead,"  N'Doki chanted.  "Messengers of de unquiet...  dis
one commands you to send fort your call, and find de restless soul dat has
touched dis world t'roo dese offerings. "

The shadows in the room deepened.

"Dis one commands you to send fort your will and touch dat soul, so dat
she may appear before me..."

The fire below the pot flared high, and changed from blood-red to and eerie
green.

"Dis one commands you... so let it be said, so let it be DONE!"

The boiling concoction belched forth a thick fog.  The cloud rose to the
top of the chamber, and penetrated the stone ceiling as if it wern't
there.  It came up through the graveyard above, where it quickly dispersed
to nothingness....  or so it seemed.

A gentle breeze spread the invisible fog throughout the city.  Denizens
both living and dead, magical and mundane, moved through it and never knew
of its existence... for the fog was not for them.

It was for her...

[Denlira]

Mist and chill were her essence as Denlira drifted on the street by the
Guards' four Towers - trying not to disturb the sleeping power that
penetrated the very stone. She felt spent, as if she had used up all of
her rage on the mage and the knife, and now couldn't summon the courage to
go seek Fillip. She couldn't bear the sight of him cowering beneath his
blanket........

The tree branches rippled as the spirit stirred. Maybe she would go see
Fillip after all....Maybe it would make her feel stronger to see him
hiding from _her_?!

Denlira started to drift back towards the Towers - then veered
away. Maybe she should go and rest in the cemetary? In the quiet of the
catacombs since she no longer could be near her own, brief, resting place.

Some sense told her she _should_ go there. That she _must_ see someone.

For a moment she stopped herself ....maybe Fillip's enemies had found a
way to send her on?

No....this did not feel like the call of the wood spirit, Yals, and it was
not the fiery patterns of the dark-haired whore. Nor could she find the
overwhelming desire to fight the call; following through the twisting
shadows of the cemetary, and down into the depths of the catacombs.


[N'Doki]

The necromancer smiled when he sensed the lost soul near his lair.    His
lips peeled back,
revealing a set of pearly white teeth... all filed down to sharp,
carnivorous points.

"Come, child,"  he said.  His voice carried far... farther than it should
have.  It echoed down the dark twisting corridors, filling the place with
his inhuman growl.  "Come..."

[Denlira]

"Come....." the voice reverberated through the stone, and through
Denlira's very essence.

Its power made her fold up on herself and hover in the darkness. Power
frightened her. People and events had always had power over her, and it
usually meant pain.

"But who called.....?" This wasn't a voice, or a presence, she knew. The
tiniest hint of curiosity stirred in the ghost, and she began to inch
forward. Finally she hesitated before a large hole in an ancient crypt.

[N'Doki]

"Enter, child,"   N'Doki's voice called.   "Fear not... N'Doki mean you
no harm.     Come... come to me, so dat I may help you..."

[Denlira]

Now that she was so near the source of the call Denlira no longer had the
desire to even think of fighting it, and she slowly drifted into the
chamber.

If she had had eyes they would have become huge at the sight before her;
even dead she wasn't yet used to the strange denizens of Montfort. Fear
made her fold up on herself; a small, chill ball of nervous ectoplasm.

"Why..help me?" she whispered.

[N'Doki]

"Your sorrow and rage call to me, little spirit,"  said N'Doki.  He
towered above the quivering shadow.  His predatory smile widened, yet he
made no move to approach the ghost.  "Pain is de currency of de dead.  And
you are a very rich soul.  But pain and anger will not preserve you long.
De people of dis town... dey do not want angry spirits intruding upon dere
world.  Dey place magic and wards to keep you out... dey chase you away...
make you afraid, when DEY are de ones dat should fear YOU!  Soon... very
soon... your power will fade, and you will pass from dis place wit'out
ever having avenged your pain.  Dat would be a shame, would it not?"

[Denlira]

The grey ball of ectoplasm that was Denlira pulsed with dull reds and
yellows as she remembered the frustration and shame of being of being
chased away. Like a mange-ridden mongrel. "They would fear me......?" she
murmured; as if tasting the sense of the words.

"They would fear me....," she continued to murmur while her torn form took
shape. "........He would fear me......"

A brief image of Fillip laying broken at her feet flashed through her
thoughts, but she banished the image in fear and horror. No. no. no....she
could never hurt Fillip - she had to be pretty for him!!

But if she had a little power he would see that she could do something
right!! He would be proud of her!! He would kneel before her...

Her ghastly visage clarified and she turned gouged sockets towards N'Doki.
"How.....?" she asked. Softly. Hungrily.

[N'Doki]

"Fear you dey shall,"  N'Doki said with a knowing nod.  "Fear you dey
shall indeed.  N'Doki give you de power, yes... just a bit.  Just enough
to do what it is dat you most want wit not'ing to stand in your way.
But... does dis little one KNOW what she wants?  Hmmm... dat is de
question.  She flutters from one soul to anodder... like de moth caught in
a room full of candles.

N'Doki not give you dat much power... not to snuff dem all out.  But one
candle...  to approach wit'out fear of de flame.  To embrace it, or to
snuff it out... de choice be yours.  One candle only...  Does dis little
one understand N'Doki?"

[Denlira]

For a long moment Denlira wrapped her shadow arms about herself, and
thought. Power. She would have Power!!

But for only one..... She pictured Fillip's tormentors...And while she
wanted to make them pay for hurting her beloved she wanted, more than
anything, to have him proud of her!!

She nodded, and peeked up at N'Doki. "Fillip....," she murmured.


[N'Doki]

"Ahhhh,"  N'Doki said, his smile widening.  "Den you shall have the power
to go to him no matter where he may be.  To appear as you were... living
and whole.  To touch him as de solid flesh... and do whatever else dat
your heart desires.  No force shall summon or banish you 'til your desire
be spent.  Tis great power indeed for a spirit so young.  Odder spirits be
jealous, no?  But you pay dem no mind...  not'ing can harm you 'til your
business on dis world be done."

N'Doki began chanting his ancient, rhythmic words... calling upon dark
spirits and gods not worshiped for centuries.  At first there was no
response, save for the strange echoes in the room... but then there was
another sound... a low whispering, like many far-away voices.  The
whispering grew louder...  the voices answering N'Doki's words with arcane
mutterings of their own.

A fine white mist began to rise from the floor.  It seeped in through the
walls and the ceiling...  coming in from all directions.  The whispering
was now collection of shouts and chants that nearly drowned out N'Doki's
own.  The mist gathered into amorphous shapes that twisted and danced in a
wind that did not exist.  Slowly... slowly they began to circle Denlira's
spirit... circling and drawing closer...

One touched her.  It leapt into her spirit form and emerged an instant
later, having deposited a tiny portion of its power within her.  The other
misty shapes did the same...  passing through her one at a time... each
one leaving her stronger than the last...

[Denlira]

To touch Fillip!! To hold him....!! Denlira laughed in wonder and
nervousness at the idea.

But as the ancient, dancing spirits encircled, and entwined her being -
leaving behind small bits of fire - her laughter deepened and grew
stronger. Denlira's image began to solidify and her ghastly wounds sealed;
her lank brown hair seemed thicker as it blew around her face. But her
eyes....they remained black hollows. A light starved darkness.

She began to dance - following the whirl of the ethereal shapes. Her
laughter joined their old chant.

[N'Doki]

The necromancer smiled as the spirit danced the dance of power... twirling
and leaping in time with his chant.   The shapes in the fog dissipated, but
their whispers continued for several more minutes... still accompanying
N'Doki's rhythmic ritual.

But finally they grew silent.  N'Doki wiped a few beads of sweat from his
leathery brow and nodded at the spirit before him.  He could feel her new
power even from a distance.

He smiled... clearly satisfied with his handiwork

[Denlira]

With the departure of the spirits the chamber seemed to have been covered
with the cloak of silence - and Denlira twirled to halt in front of
N'Doki.

Her ethereal flesh glowed opaquely white, and even though only blackness
filled her eye sockets her expression was one of wonder. "Thank you," she
said earnestly. If there was a price for this power she didn't care - to
her, even those few moments of surety would have been worth a king's
ransom; she had only dim memories of dancing with with such abandonment -
when she had been a child of very tender years.

"Thank you."


[N'Doki]

"Nooo... N'Doki t'anks YOU, young one.  But remember... use N'Doki's gift
well.  Your heart's one desire will be yours... not'ing more.  Now go...
N'Doki must rest.  But I will be watching..."