《The Cranium Chronicles》


 A Bonechilling Betrayal

    The Cranium Chronicles


    The dark streets of the city were silent, seemingly devoid of people aside from the occasional beggar or thief. Femur Scapular was standing in an alley, party concealed by the wall of the local inn. It was a beautiful night, with an enormous full moon and a comfortable temperature, but Femur was oblivious to this fact. His attention was entirely on a woman standing just outside the inn, seemingly waiting for someone.


    ¡°Mr. Engelbrekt!¡± she suddenly yelled, ¡°over here, over here!¡±


    Femur watched with anger as a tall, muscular man clad in a dark cloak emerged from the woods behind the inn, and proceeded to walk  up to the woman while showing a nasty grin.


    ¡°Hehe¡­I¡¯ve been waiting for this all week. Do you mind if I come with my friends next time? I¡¯m sure you can handle at least that much at your level of skill.¡± The man said, still grinning. Femur furiously watched the couple as they hooked arms and entered the inn, but held himself back from rushing after them.


    Femur had arrived in the small village two years earlier with his wife, and had quickly established himself as the go-to smith in the village. His shop had been situated just by the palisade, behind the inn, a location that previously had rarely seen activity. This changed almost immediately after he set up shop, as droves of customers began visiting him for repairs, purchasing tools and weapons, or just to talk. Being so close to the inn was a blessing as well, since adventurers would often stop by to replenish supplies or repair equipment. There were no farmers in the village, as it relied on its location between the eastern outpost of the empire, the great city of Lycroin, and the ancient dungeon that had spawned a decade ago.


    While the village was small, it was uncharacteristically rich for its size. All inhabitants were either shopkeepers, craftsmen or soldiers, all of which were lucrative professions and were the reason for the village being made out of stone houses. Merchants would arrive every week with supplies of food and ore, and adventurers from the dungeon would sometimes stop by to sell the treasure they¡¯d found in there. It was a perfect example of a trading post turned village.


    Femur was snapped back to reality by the sound of people exiting the inn. It was the same woman he¡¯d seen entering earlier, and he wasted no time tailing her back to her home. After making sure that the woman had arrived home safely, Femur quickly returned to the inn. He knew that the man was a traveling adventurer, since he didn¡¯t recognize him, and thus had to be staying at the inn. He made his way toward the wall of the inn, looking up to see a window above him. Femur immediately started climbing the wall, an endeavor which was made substantially easier by his now insignificant weight. He had been a large man, with muscle that threatened to burst through his clothes, but now, while he had retained his immense strength, his body was almost weightless, and he could easily have lifted a body ten times his size. Femur finally reached the window, and gazing in, he smiled inwardly. Inside the room was a visibly nude man sleeping soundly on a narrow straw bed, and a chair on which a dark cloak hung. Femur didn¡¯t bother being sneaky anymore, he clenched his fist, and swung it against the window. It shattered instantly, sending shrapnel flying towards the man on the bed.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Samuel was abruptly awoken by a jolt of pain. He instantly recognized the feeling of a deep stab wound, just like the one he¡¯d once contracted in the smoldering ruins of his hometown. He quickly rolled to the side, forgetting that there was a bed under him, and promptly fell to the floor. Being used to sleeping on the ground evidently had its cons, he discovered, as he was pierced by the unknown attacker before having a chance to get away. He howled, hoping that it might attract the other guests at the inn, and threw himself towards the door, but to no avail. A bony hand grasped his leg before he could reach it, which forced him around to face the attacker¡­


    The horrifying visage which met his eyes caused him to wet himself for the first time since that time with his sister. It was like nothing he¡¯d seen before, or even imagined in his worst nightmares. Something that should by all rights be dead was standing before him, bleached bones rattling as it moved its arm towards his face. The full moon shone behind it, reducing it to a silhouette surrounded by moonlight. As the skeleton stabbed its fingers towards his eyes, a faint whisper could be heard in the distance, ¡°Spooky scary skeletons, send shivers down your spine¡­¡±


    Femur looked again at the corpse lying in front of him. Since he¡¯d died, his wife had sold all his belongings, and purchased a house in the middle of the village. She¡¯d shown no signs of sorrow ever since he fell ill, and had even taunted him by his deathbed. He knew now that she had never loved him, and that she¡¯d only married him because of his skill with the hammer and anvil, but he still couldn¡¯t bring himself to exact revenge on her, and settled for killing any man which she took to bed. After he passed away, she had begun sleeping around with passing adventurers at her own leisure, probably to torment his ghost even in the afterlife. He glanced down toward his bony hands, admiring their glistering whiteness, and laughed. His wife might have wanted to torment him in death, but she¡¯d soon realize that upsetting the dead had consequences. He let out a mad laughter, and spoke; ¡°shrieking skulls will shock your soul, seal your doom tonight¡±.


    Somewhere, far, far away, in the darkness, an ancient force stirred as it heard a mortal call it once again. A great skeletal hand rose from an enormous pit as the seals binding it were shattered. It solemnly grasped a golden music instrument surrounded by magical traps and seals, and raised it. In the dark tomb, a great skull rose from the pit that moments before had spawned the skeletal hand, and started making its way towards it. After the skull had arrived at its position behind the shining instrument, it visibly drew a breath, and when it put its teeth against it, a single sound emerged. All powerful individuals on the continent felt energy run through them for a split second, and widened their eyes in horror. It was leagues stronger than anything they¡¯d felt before, and they shuddered in fear. A being stronger than even the most powerful dragons had been let loose on the world, and now their own fate, as well as that of the entire world, was in the hands of the gods.

 Dragonfire cant melt plotarmor

    The village was silent. Darkness had fallen only minutes earlier, but the news of the latest murder had the inhabitants sleeping restlessly behind locked doors. On the roof of a certain abandoned forge, a slender, bony figure could be seen emerging from the chimney. Femur wouldn¡¯t be harmed by the sunlight, but his skeletal instincts told him to stay away from it. He¡¯d been using a coat during the day, while stalking his wife, but still felt uncomfortable under the intense rays. Femur sighed, and readied himself for another uneventful night. His wife had sold the forge only days after his death, and since the new owner needed time to move his family to the village, Femur had decided to make it his base of operation. The forge, which had also served as a shop, was now stripped of most furniture, and no longer resembled the place that he had grown to love.


    Femur had used the forges second floor, his former bedroom, as a storage where he put both useful items found on his victims, and his daytime disguise. He had woken up covered in dirt only weeks earlier, and could vaguely remember making his way to the forge in the darkness. He had initially thought that he¡¯d had too much to drink, and made his way to his former home in hope of finding his wife. After what must have been days later, he woke up again, this time on the floor where his bed should have been, noticing his skeletal form and lack of warmth. Femur had remembered the tales he¡¯d heard as a kid, tales about walking corpses, shadowy horrors, and the demon king, after which he¡¯d quickly come to the conclusion that he had died. As time passed, his head had cleared, and he¡¯d remembered his wife¡¯s betrayal. Angry and grief-stricken, he¡¯d sworn to take revenge upon the woman who had evidently never loved him, and this had led to him stalking her. He knew that he wouldn¡¯t be able to bring himself to kill her, so he decided that he¡¯d make sure she was alone, which he would accomplish by killing any man who dared bed her. With this new goal in mind, Femur had taken the first step by killing his former friend, Joel, whom he¡¯d quickly realized had been engaging in sexual activities with his wife for months. It had been painful for him, of course, but not nearly as painful as it had been for Joel, who¡¯d died lacking several important organs.


    Femur had acquired an impressive collection of magical items from his victims, ranging from a wooden statue that spat splinters at intruders, to the shadowy cloak that made up his attire. Aside from the cloak, he¡¯d also equipped a mask which boosted magic, albeit only because it covered his skeletal visage, and a couple of enchanted daggers. While his attire might have earned him strange looks anywhere else, this village was a hub for adventurers, so a tall, cloaked man wearing a silver mask was not anything out of the ordinary. Femur was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts by a loud ringing. It was the villages alarm bell, which could only mean one thing; the village was under attack. Femur quickly opened the second floor window, hurling himself towards the opening, and deftly landed on the street 4 meters below. He wasted no time, dodging the groggy villagers that had come out to find out what was happening, and making his way towards the gate.


    The gate was essentially a large wooden structure, with platforms on the inside to allow archers on it, and was currently sporting several enormous holes. Men were running towards it from all directions, waving farming tools or makeshift clubs, but were stopped by a small group of people in the front. They were clearly adventurers, with sturdy leather armor covering their muscular bodies. Among their numbers Femur could see at least two sorcerers, one being a female elf and the other an old man, who were arguing about something while pointing at the gates. Femur approached the group, with his attire effectively disguising his appearance, and coughed to get their attention.


    ¡°Would anyone like to inform me on the situation?¡± he asked, mimicking a western accent.


    ¡°The village is under attack¡± The old wizard informed, ¡°We¡¯re debating on whether or not we should magically reinforce the gates¡±.


    ¡°It¡¯s a stupid idea, you old fool¡± the elf snapped, ¡°We should focus our efforts on taking them out from the walls!¡±


    If his wife¡¯s life wasn¡¯t in danger, Femur might have found their bickering amusing, but at that moment, what they needed to do was to act quickly.


    ¡°Shut up and listen!!¡± he shouted, ¡°What we need to do is assess the situation before making our move¡±


    The group of adventurers instantly fell silent, and Femur couldn¡¯t help but feel proud of himself. That was until he turned around, and noticed an enormous eye staring right at him over the palisade. Upon further inspection, the space around the eye was even darker than the surrounding sky, and Femur could make out a silhouette beyond the villages lights.


    ¡°Run you fools!! It¡¯s a dragon!!¡± the elf shouted with a shrill voice, moments before a bright light engulfed them.


    The dragonfire raged around him, visibly struggling to close in on his body, and neared at an alarming speed. Femur was frozen in fear, and could only watch as the wave of immense heat approached.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Even at a young age, I¡¯d shown aptitude for the arcane, to the point where my parents sent me away to a prestigious academy at the age of 20. I studied everything from rune magic to necromancy, and left only 20 years later with my degree. At the age of 70, when I reached adulthood, I left my home for the second time. While I loved the forests and marshes of my homeland, magic not affiliated with nature was shunned by its inhabitants, and I found myself being treated as a criminal by my own people. My parents, who¡¯d been the ones to send me away in the first place, were horrified when they found out about my new fascinations, and kicked me out after disowning me and telling me that the spirits would punish me. With nowhere else to go, I decided to return to the academy where I had studied, and was accepted as a lecturer in elemental manipulation and spirit magic. I soon realized that while I had barely changed during the time I spent away from the academy, my old teachers had all died retired. This was when I first realized the difference between elves and humans. My old classmates were now either grandfathers or grandmothers, and remembered me as little more than a childhood friend. Needless to say, i was devastated. I had been banished from the only place where I could possibly live a normal life, and stuck with a race of people that lived out their lives in the blink of an eye.


    After a long period of depression, i finally managed to get a grip, and decided to take an apprentice. She found a talented young child to teach, and managed to make him into a great wizard in only 50 years. During this time, I myself had advanced in her research, and become more powerful.


    During these years, I¡¯d grown increasingly concerned about my apprentices short lifespan, and had started researching a way to extend it, and when my apprentice reached the age of 60, I¡¯d found it.


    It was a powerful magical artifact located at the bottom level of the dungeon, guarded by hordes of bizarre creatures and powerful constructs. According to the text mentioning the device, it would be awarded upon completion of the dungeon, something that had never happened in recorded history.


    Thus we set out, my apprentice and I, on a journey to riches and immortality. Which led me to my current predicament.


    As the dragon opened its maw, I instantly consumed all the mana I could, summoning a dome to protect me and my student. The others in our group were incinerated in an instant, but I knew that trying to save them would stretch my power too thin, and kill us all. As the flames raged around us, a lone figure caught my eye. It was the adventurer that had approached us earlier, the one with the odd mask. Despite the extraordinary heat, the man causally gazed at the dragon behind his mask, withstanding the flames which had incinerated dozens in an instant. My apprentice stared, mouth agape, at the being that defied the wrath of a fully grown dragon. I saw it now, too, the mask melting off his face, while his cloak turned into black smoke, revealing what was underneath. A lich! And a powerful one at that. All undead were weak to fire and light, this was common knowledge, so one of them withstanding such powerful fire meant that they were either in possession of a powerful artifact, or beings powerful enough to rival the lesser gods. As the flames subsided, the skeletal creature took its eye off the dragon, and glanced behind it. Gazing over the smoldering remains of what was once a village, it raised its head, howling at the sky. I ushered my stunned apprentice to come with me, and retreated as a man became visible on the dragons back.


    ¡°What manner of creature are you?¡± the man asked in a loud, almost unnatural voice, ¡°to be able to withstand dragonfire this easily, are you perchance a wandering god?¡±


    The skeleton remained silent, staring hatefully at the man with its eerie, glowing eyes.


    ¡°well¡­whatever you are doesn¡¯t matter, what matters is that I have no desire to fight one such as you¡± the man continued, ¡°I got what I came for anyhow, so I suppose this¡¯ll be goodbye¡±


    The dragon lowered its head in preparation for takeoff, and briefly, the man¡¯s arms were revealed. In them was an unconscious woman, who even I had to admit possessed peerless beauty, in a nightshift. This seemed to faze the lich, as it suddenly froze, staring at the woman intently. Its staring, however, was interrupted by the fiery light that emerged from the man, however, as both him, the woman and his dragon started to fade. The skeleton realized what was happening only seconds too late, and desperately tried to close the distance between them. It was, however, too late, and when it reached the spot where the dragon had stood, no trace of it could be found. The skeleton lowered its head in disappointment, and then turned its bony head, looking straight at us.


    ¡°oh shit¡± I thought¡­


    <hr />


    Again i''m sorry for sucking at making paragraphs.


    a long one this time, I could have uploaded it as two chapters but what the heck..

 Humerus Conversations

    Femur stared at the spot where the dragon had been only moments earlier. He knew that he had fucked up, but didn''t have time to chastise himself.


    His wife had been stolen from him right before his eyes! and all he''d done was to stare at the very man who took her.


    Femur furiously turned around, staring the only other surviving adventurers in the eyes, an impressive feat, considering the fact that his own hadn''t been attached for a while now.


    "YOU!" he shouted, "DID YOU RECOGNIZE THAT MAN?"


    The elf was standing only meters behind him, frozen midstep with a fearful expression. Behind her the apprentice could be seen in a similar position.


    "H-haha! if we tell you, oh great lich, will you let us go?" the elf finally managed to say.


    "well no", Femur replied, his confusion masked by the fact that he technically didn''t have a face.


    This seemed to greatly unnerve the elf, as her eyes began to fill up with liquid, and her lip started quivering. She unexpectedly got down in a kneeling position on the ground,


    "P-please, my lord! i''ll do anything! I-if you wish i can even assist in various rituals needing a virgin elf...Just...at least let my diciple go", she pleaded, carefully avoiding her apprentices'' gaze at the last part.


    The apprentices'' expression shifted from fear to surprise in less than a heartbeat, and Femur guessed that he wasn''t used to his teacher showing this much affection for him.


    "TEACHER!! YOU TOLD ME YOU WERE 300 YEARS OLD! TO THINK THAT YOU WERE A VIRGIN!!.."


    Femur quickly revised his conclusion. It seemed that the man just had his mental image of the elf shattered in less than a second, which couldn''t have been good for his heart. After further thought, Femur also realized that the elf had gravely misunderstood his message, and was thinking of sacrificial rituals.


    Being a good samaritian, whatever that meant, Femur decided to immediately correct this grave misunderstanding, and thus spoke up again.


    "NO! NO NO NO! i only want you to help me enter a city. As you can see, i''m more than a little suspicious with this appearance. If you do that for me, i''ll gladly let you go, although i''m not going to force you to do anything. I apologize for my hideous visage, lady necromancer."


    In the face of the skeletons apology, the mage duos'' brains were going haywire. The apprentice had it worse than the elf, as he now had to reconsider both his teachers'' and supposed enemies'' positions in his mind. Finally, after several minutes of silence, the elf rose up from her position on the ground, and bowed deeply towards him.


    Stolen novel; please report."I am so sorry! I''m sure that you are weary of being mistaken for an evil undead. We both apologize for this heinous act of discrimination."


    Femur just stood there, jawbone agape, unable to believe that there really was someone in the world willing to accept him as a person, despite his skeletal form.


    "allow me to introduce myself", the elf continued,"My name is Elevar, high necromancer of the Academy, and this is AAlvar, my diciple".


    The elf rose from her bowing position, and gestured for her apprentice to do the same. She took a deep breath, and finished her sentence


    "-and the man you just saw, the one who burned this village to the ground....was the great and terrible Demon Lord, Asmodeus!"


    ___________________________________________________________________________________________________


    And with that, chapter 3 is finished. You didn''t think i was dead, did ya?


    I believe that i might be able to post more frequently now when summervacation is coming up, and i won''t have to stuy for a while. (although i failed miserably at several tests ): )


    Anyhow, if anyone is still reading my fiction at this point, i''d like to thank you for dedicating a small part of your life to reading my work. DO comment if you liked what you read, and please refrain from just leaving a "thanks for the chapter".....


    Say "Thank mr skeltal" instead.


    Praise the Bone God, and cheers


    EDIT: So almost half of summer vacation has gone by, and no more chapters have been posted. This is because i''ve had very limited access to my computer, and have chosen to play Ark with the little time i could afford to spend online. Again, if anyone still cares, i apologize for letting you down, and will do my best to make up for it.


    I won''t promise anything, because i''m not positive i''ll be able to keep one, but i can atleast inform you that this story won''t be dropped. If i should decide to drop this story at any point, i''ll post a new "chapter" discussing it.


    That is all, gentry! i hope your vacation will be more entertaining than mine.

 Interlude- Spirits supernatural

    "As the memelords wake, and the tombs of Ascarath rumble, the Inheritor will awaken in his earthly grave, seeking out the being that has claimed his soul. <<del>Insert more bullshit lore here</del>>" -the Skeltal Scripts


    Minard lowered his pen once more, carefully finishing the letter, only to fall over when the ground below him trembled, heralding a new era. His face, now in firm contact with the floor, was sheet white, and as he pulled himself up from his prone position, a nervous smile decorated it.


    "So it has begun", he whispered, his mind giddy with fearful excitement. "SHALLON, GET OVER HERE!!!".


    In response to his shouting, the door in the end of the small stone room he currently used as his quarters opened, and a thin, young woman rushed in, with an equally excited look on her face.


    "Professor, it has finally awoken! what now?", she asked, the excitement in her voice showing through her exhausted panting.


    "Now girl, we wait", he responded. "It might take a few days to activate all functions, perhaps even a week".


    Shallon hovered in the doorframe for a few more seconds, then left as suddenly as she''d appeared. Minard wouldn''t admit it, not even to himself, but the ghosts scared him, even though he knew they were just like him, only without a body. It was the whole dissapearing thing, he thought. It made no sense, and even Shallon couldn''t explain where she went when she wasn''t corporeal. As an archmage, he had to work with the ghosts though, and he had to admit that they did their job well.


    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    Minard shook his head, clearing his mind of unnecessary thoughts, and walked out of his quarters, leaving the small barrack, and entering the outside world. Large mountainpeaks surrounded the vale in which he found himself, obscuring the sun with their great masses, keeping the valley in a constant state of night, only lit by the various pools of lava that littered the scorched ground. in the distance, a large tower could be seen, many hundred meters tall, and yet dwared by the surrounding mountainpeaks. This tower marked the tombs of Ascarath, a legendary dungeon long thought to be lost to the world. It was here that the first signs of the Awakening Of Skeltal would appear, and where his research team had been living for the past two years. He went back inside, incinerated the half-written letter with a thought, and started writing a new one.


    ''weekly report from the Ascarath research team:


    It has begun...''


    _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________


    "Wait guys if she''s a ghost why is she panting after sprinting?!?!"1qdi1=!!" -smart-ass reader that thinks they''ve found a flaw in my FINE work!!


    Well, dear reader, my ghosts feed on spookyness, which means they quickly gets exhausted when away from humans that can fear them.


    //Lazy cunt of an author

 Dead Mans Rest

    The faintly glowing campfire lit up barely a few meters around it, which was perfectly fine when you didn''t have eyes, and thus didn''t need any light to see.Femur once more let out a deep sigh, thinking back on the circumstances that had led him there.


    He''d been put on watch duty as soon as the elven necromancer realized that he wouldn''t have to sleep, which according to her would save them several weeks worth of time getting to the border of the wraithband. The wraithband was the mountainrange that separated man and demon, standing as an impassable wall between their lands. The few known paths through the great obstacle, were winding, narrow and deadly, which was the reason for the demons not launching a full scale assault on the much smaller human territory. Femur, as the commoner he was, naturally didn''t know even half of this, which had been why Elevenar had to inform him over the course of their journey. It had only been a few days, but they had both warmed up to him rather quickly.


    Femur glanced at the sleeping shapes of his elven companions, wishing once again that something exciting would happen, or better yet, that he was capable of sleeping. While the days were boring and repetative, traveling through identical forests and plains, the nights were almost excruciating in how tedious they were. Sitting still, at the exact same spot, would make him harder to notice, sure, but it was also possibly the most boring thing a sapient lifeform could experience. While Femur knew that this was preferable to having his compadriots killed by some wild canine, his wandering thoughts frequently turned in the direction of bloodshed and death. Any outsider looking at the camp would only see two sleeping people covered by their blankets, and an old skeleton laying on the ground for some inexplicable reason. Undead were far from common outside of dungeons, and the average bandit wouldn''t even think of the possibility of encountering one.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Elevenars prone body started moving, abruptly interrupting Femurs train of thought. He turned his head in her direction with an almost reptilian movement, speaking for the first time in hours.


    "took you a while, elf. I was just about to check your pulse in case you died in your sleep. Old people sometimes do, i''ve heard"


    Elevenar smiled slightly, focusing her still tired eyes on him.


    "Well, one of us atleast has flesh, mr talking skeleton. I bet you wouldn''t be so skinny if you ate sometimes!"


    The friendly banter continued while Elevenar cleaned herself with a spell, packed the blanket, and started making breakfast. Soon, the smell of cooking meat woke her slightly less elderly apprentice, who took atleast twice as long to ready himself for the day. As apprentice, necromancer and skeleton sat down, with the former two digging into the provided food, Femur for the first time in his new life felt content.

 Human Incarnation of Sloth reporting in

    So yeah, its been a while.....


    ...Okay maybe a long while.


    So things happened, and i ended up forgeting that i even uploaded stuff here in the first place. So....uh, yeah. I dont really have an excuse.


    Now, i will say one thing: Cranium Chronicles will (surprisingly) not be discontinued like the other two fictions. So you''ll still get to follow our skeletal blacksmith as he makes his way towards the demon kings lair. I may or may not rewrite some stuff aswell, since looking back, some of the chapters come across as slightly cringy, and, uh...oh yeah! there are some (2 or 3) beginnings of fictions i wrote last summer on a car trip, so i might release those if i can get my old phone to work. Honestly, they vastly outdo my earlier stuff in quality, and one of them has atleast 3 chapters already, so its basically longer than CC at this point.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Well, naturally im not sure if anyone''s still subbed to me, so maybe im just typing into the aether, but just in case:


    I''m back motherfuckers.