Necromancer Chronicles: Origins. Elitz Von Stranburg

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12th July, Year of our lord 1883 Tonight my wife has complained of extreme discomfort, it has worried me greatly. The strain of being with child is getting to her, and I fear for both her life, and the child within her womb. News from St Petersburg, the Tsar’s wife is to give birth for a second time. Praise be to the lord, the local Lords are praying that this child be a male, and an heir to the throne. The anarchy we would be thrown into should he not is hard to imagine. Clara is pleased, despite the Tsarina being German she knows that the blood of the royals will be preserved. Over in Britain the socialist revolts continue to ensue, we laugh at it here. Britain is looking over her empire with disdain, trouble in India and Canada, and of course the tightness of funds is making major problems for them. Luckily I have no personal plot over and within the failing empire, rather my money comes all from the great Empire of Russia. With the war against Japan on the horizon, the moment we obtain a non frozen port ( be damned the ice) we can finally set out warships of our own and cement our lands in the east. The farmers have been complaining of failing crops. However that will not affect my quality of living, I refuse to lower taxes because of their failure. If they do not like it then I shall strip them from my land and take what little crops they have. Sickness seems to be rising in the few of my estates that actually do possess some little money. The sickness has been dubbed the ” Red Death” due to the horrible way in which the affected people die. Blood sweat instead of water, convulsive agony. Once infected they say that the Red Death takes only half a sweep of the clock for the victim to fall and die. Concerning this plague however I have set up a quarantine zone, corpses of the unfortunate souls who are infected are burned apon confirmation of death. It should end soon enough. 1st August, the year of our Lord 1883 The night is upon us, my wife is finally to give birth. I cannot wait to see for myself the child bore of the womb. Despite this happy news things are not going so well. The war in Japan has begun but it is taking so long for any troops to mobilise, surely we cannot loose against such a small backwards island nation. As for the plague, it has despite my best efforts spread, the peasant farmers who were complaining in my last extract have no reason to complain anymore,they too have fallen victim to this red death. People refuse to enter the quarantine zone, even the clergy they claim the devil is responsible. Each death happens without priests delivering the last rights. The cardinal tells that this has only angered spirits, who aid the devil in spreading the red death. However there is nothing I can do. I now sit here wondering if it would not be best for my wife and the baby if I gathered our wealth and headed north to St Petersburg.

Concerning other foreign affairs, the new German Kaiser ( the crippled Prince Wilhelm) is noted to be a dedicated expansionist who is now looking east. However we should have nothing to worry about, the Tsar is a cousin of the Kaiser, and blood runs thicker than water.

The child is born! Joy is me, praise the good lord. I have an heir! The boy weighs 6 pounds and 6 ounces. I shall name him Elitz for my dead brother. The sickness that plagued my wife is gone, it seems to have been nothing more than the pains of being so close to labour. The child is perfect. The only distinguishing feature is a dark blot of red on his right hip. The Cardinal has baptised him immediately, in these dark times we do not know what will happen. Truly though the birth of such a child is a gift from god.

[ Pages are missing, most likely lost through time]] 3rd February, the year of our Lord 1889 Woe is me. From Cradle to the grave. There is something wrong with Eltiz, he speaks to himself, at first I thought it merely a boyhood thing, an imaginary friend as it would be. However this is untrue. Lately he has been telling me things, things he should not possibly be able to know. He speaks of Herisbraz the Bloody, my Great Grandfather. He says that he enjoys his time in the afterworld speaking with someone called Belial. I was shocked to discover from the clergy that this Belial is actually a demon. Worse! A Prince of Hell! We are going to try an exorcism tonight to see if we cannot confirm that my fears are true.

If I had any doubts of evil. Tonight they were erased. Cardinal Diamond, my good English friend whom I have known for a great many years is dead. Killed during the exorcism of my own child. The voice that came from his mouth was not my boy, we have learned however the name of the demon that plagues us. Or at least the name which it believes us worthy of knowing. The priest aiding the Cardinal told us that it was not Satan, for this is not a name he is known to use. But whatever force of evil it is. Itlaughed at the word of god. Laughed at the symbols of the holy eulogy. And when the Cardinal approached with disrespect. The demon within my boy, within my Eltiz tore the heart from my good friend.

I killed the priest. The man wanted to kill my son. I could not let him. God forgive me. I love my son. God forgive me. I love my son.

18th August, year of our Lord 1889 My son had no memory of that horrible night. And neither should he. For he is an innocent soul in this. I have buried the bodies, one of my friend, and the other of the priest. I have begun to research whatever demon that holds this name. Hopefully it shall be fruitful

Success. Or at least partial. The name has appeared once before in the roman chronicles during the time of Nero and the burning of the original city. Following it came a horrible plague. Could this be related to the Red Death that my lands had suffered under not so long ago? I think so. My wife has begun to act rather erratically. I fear my troubles and that of Russia, have only just begun.

10th December, year of our Lord 1895 Tonight I see my wife for the final time, her behaviour and mental state have deteriorated over the years. Now she lies in a rust, and most blackened cell, scraping words of no sense into the walls. Her nails have been torn from her hands. Her face is dirty. She is no longer the woman I knew. In all my research I have not been able to find a cure for my sonsproblem. I fear there is only one final solution. One that I have been avoiding since that night so many years ago. Death. Death to the demon child. Only then shall my sons spirit be free. Let me hope his soul has not been tainted beyond the forgiveness of our Lord.

[[ This was the last page of the extract, it is unknown what happened beyond this point. It is thought this diary’s contents were the inspiration for the disease featured in ” Masque of the Red Death by Edgar Alan Poe”]]

——

Edgar Alan Poe, yes. His fathers diary had indeed been the inspiration for that particular play. However he didn’t like to think about it. The end of that diary had begun on the night of the purification. He had called out for mercy, for his father to stop this madness. But of course. It turned out, it wasn’t madness after all. He was sick. When he awakened he found himself drenched in blood, all around him there lay the mummified corpses of several men, the holy men who he had screamed at before. They had their body fluids completely drained out of them, with a look of horror glazed onto their faces. In the early years of his development that had scared him senseless. He was only 15 at the time. And despite knowing war and death surrounded Russia at this time. He still had never seen a dead body. Never mind a dead body in this state. He had trailed out into the snow, a blizzard, nothing but thoughts of death in his mind. He vomited up his stomach only a few steps later. The steam rising off the freshly warmed spill. The smell only made him vomit up again, this time it was the bile green colour of an empty stomach. To think things would only get worse from there. Two years later after years of drifting and waking up covered in blood he decided finally to go see one of the gypsy mediums. This of course was only a partial epilogue to the nightmare. He had entered believing nothing. And left knowing everything. The gypsy immediately began to convulse violently when she called apon the spirit inside him. Her eyes and ears and other oraphuses would jet with blood, running down her face like tears. For once he heard the voice inside his head speak from the outside. The demon identified itself only as Big Red. And then laughed in madness as it slowly killed the gypsy, causing the woman to slit her own throat from ear to ear using a ceremonial dagger.

He was scorned among his own people, cast away wandering from village to village, disaster and plague following his footsteps. His attempts to stay away from villages were fruitless, sleep walking somehow always brought him into one village or the next without memory of ever going there. Years passed. Decades. The World War came, and from the shadows he watched….death seemed so futile in these trenches….thousands…hundre ds of thousands dying and for what? To gain another few inches closer to their enemy? He wept for them. Wept for the dead. But at night…the men in the trenches would tell of a walking figure looming in the mists and fog of the killing grounds, at night fear swept through the trenches…despair….and horror of that which you cannot see.

But this was only the beginning. The year was 1937. Germany. The Nazi party had begun to spread throughout Germany under its leader Hitler. The Rhineland had been reclaimed back into the fatherland and Elitz had came to Berlin to live amongst the homeless. Germany was still recovering from the great depression, thus his presence there didn’t seem to have much of an effect on the people at all. Many things had changed in his life, for one his skin although always having been pale was now a chalk white colour, most who saw him would see him as a very ill man. And thats just how he felt, his body ached greatly, and whenever he ate he felt as if he would sick it back up. And the headaches. The constant headaches that plagued him.

But some things hadn’t changed. The night walking that he could never remember. And the scenes of gore and violence he awoke to. It couldn’t go on. He couldn’t stay uncaught forever. He knew that. And he was right. But what would happen to him after he was caught. He would never have guessed. But he would not know either. For Elitz, the innocent child would sleep. And never awaken again.

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