Veraph couldn't dream anymore. After he touched that gem; everytime he started to have a pleasant dream, it would be ripped away and twisted into a dark and horrible nightmare. Veraph would find himself against a single skeleton. The first time he thought it was funny, but then the skeleton would grow. It would mutate into an unkillable force before his very eyes. The skeleton would lift a foot to crush Veraph. Fear would seep through him. He would forget his training. He would forget how to move his arms and legs. He would give up and just as the bony heel came down on it's target Veraph would wake in a cold sweat and scared.
After a few nights Veraph couldn't take this anymore. While the other paladins were sleeping in the barracks, he would still be training, fighting target dummies, dusk till dawn. He would trade sleep in for knives, his face sullen, his mood as cold and as dead as the demons he was fighting. This too was part of his destiny.
On one paticular night something new had happened. A new pathway for the warrior was opened. New tools for which to lay the world low were acquired. Veraph was slashing and stabbing a target dummy, training more then a man ever should. He had broke three other dummies before this one. His muscles burned, he gasped at air, but he knew he wasn't strong enough. The nightmare would still come and he wouldn't be ready. This thought crowded his head that very night.
Veraph was angry, he was furious. He couldn't take it anymore. Eyes closed, he raised his arms and smashed the ground with all his might. What he couldn't see is that his fists had started to ooze black gas. After he was done, upturned sediment all around him, he opened his eyes. He looked at the ground in front of himself. Underneath there were lines of darkness from his own point of impact. A few feet away there was movement. A skeletal hand broke to the surface. It pulled its body up and before Veraph stood the enemy. His limbs still in pain, there was very little he could do.The skeleton shuffled forward, arms outstretched towards him. He felt the same fear he had in the nightmares. He was going to die.
The skeleton advanced towards him. Sweat running down his forehead, he tried to get up. His knees gave out on him. The skeleton moving closer. Veraph weakly raised his arm, and whispered No. This time he saw the gas flood out from his hand. In his palm, a crater with a floating sphere of darkness expanding and contracting. The skeleton before him stood up straight as if awaiting orders.
Veraph started to realize it. He had summoned this monster in his rage. Veraph Seraphim was a necromancer. It all started to make sense now, the gem, the protective skeletons, these powers. It was clear. Veraph pointed his hand at the target dummy and concentrated on the floating darkness in his hand. It shot into the dummy and the skeleton, seconds ago at his throat, lunged at the target it was ordered to attack. It didn't stop until only a pile of scrap metal was left. After its carnage it quietly sank back down into the earth. Veraph couldn't believe this, he needed to test these new powers more. He laid on the ground with a grin on his face, a mutated and dark grin.
