Malkil stood silently within the rear chamber of his throne room his arms folded behind his back as he stared into the astral mirror, the reflection showing his necro-mage slave in the alchemy laboratory as his lich child assistant turned a small knob nervously before running to stand behind the lich, covering her eyes with the back of his robe. Two volatile and deadly liquids, one red and one green began to distill into a crystal vial, mixing in the process. The solution seemed to arc with tiny bolts of lightning and bubble for a moment before the vial exploded, the liquid spraying over the necro-mage. The spray struck a wall of force just inches before the creature, the spray liquifying on contact, running in large rivulets down to the marble floor where it hissed and smoked on contact. The mirror's reflection scanned the laboratory in response to Malkil's will, the book was not there. Malkil's eyes narrowed as his irises blazed, his anger barely contained, the reflection shifted to show the lich child. WIth controlled calmness he spoke, the words carrying into the laboratory.

Go to the library my dear and find Asharak's spell book, it is small and bound in red dragonskin. It is in the east wing, go, quickly now.

The lich girl stared up at the ornately buttressed ceiling then nodded, her jaw snapping as she tried to speak but could not without a tongue. Immediately she hurried from the room, her bone feet clicking on the marble floor, as the image shifted to the arch-lich wizard. Malkil muttered a word and arcs of green lightning sprang upward from the ground, raking the necro-mage. The lich hissed and convulsed in agony as acrid black smoke rose from it's smouldering robes.

I told you to use Asharak's manual, though you choose to defy me, have you not learned that your rebellious behaviour will only bring you suffering. Prepare the test again, and follow the book to the letter. Fail again and I will confine you to the holy altar in the mines again, perhaps permanently.

The lich rose unsteadily to it's feet, bowed and moved to the still where the vial had sat and began preparing the experiment again, the memories of the agonising pain it felt from being confined in the oppressive atmosphere in the underground chapel flooding back into its mind. Although it suffered no permanent harm from being within the holy site, only a maddening aching in its temples and extreme lethargy in body and mind, it was an expeience the lich would rather not re-unlive.

Nestling his staff in the crook of his neck as he leaned upon it slightly, the scene in the mirror clouded over as Malkil turned his focus to the lower dungeon where the great titan Gozer hung, his body ravaged by toxins which his body produced cures for but were drawn out of him by Malkil's magics. The mirror clouded again and revealed a razed tower and a dozen Black Slayers and vampiric monks riding away from the site. The Black Slayers' horses are enormous, almost twice the size of those ridden by the monks. Within their saddle bags they carry tomes of magic and dozens of scrolls, artifacts, relics, and magical trinkets. Malkil smiled cruelly as he watched plumes of black smoke rise into the night sky, the mighty seeress Saerade destroyed as a result of her refusal to swear fealty. A slight zephyr shifted his robes as he watched teh ruins of the tower burn, upon the wind came a whisper, a voice calling for him, summoning him to the Black Citadel. Focussing his mind on the dark temple the mirror revealed the throne room and its inhabitants. As his gaze surveyed them he almost spat in rage as the mirror focusses on the figure of Vorach. Narrowing his eyes he stalks forward into the mirrors surface, appearing within the throne room.