Zal’Rodal dove deeper into the dungeon's entrails, he explored every nook and cranny that he had access to, he would have to send out some goblins to scamper down some of the smaller tunnels. The dungeon was filled with various rooms: Bedrooms, torture chambers, armouries, pantries, treasuries, and many more. Unfortunately, nothing that was left in any of the rooms could be considered usable. It had been too long since anybody had lived in these halls. Fortunately, everything was in a state that made restoration possible, he was determined to conquer the lands around the castle and bring enough riches into the dungeon to replace and expand on anything that was lost. The Dark Lord delved deeper down the tunnels poking with his torch at everything that seemed suspicious. He had heard reports of adventurers being eaten by furniture within dungeons, especially chests. Zal’Rodal did not plan to join them in such a pathetic death. A Dark Lord was not to be eaten by furniture, no matter how sentient it may be.
He had explored the dungeon for hours when he reached the last unexplored door. The door was made of black steel and appeared unaffected by the passage of time, especially in comparison to the rest of the dungeon. Zal’Rodal pushed against the door, but it did not budge even after placing the full weight of his body against it. He looked around to see if any of his goblins had followed and when he was sure he was alone took some steps back and readied himself. He sprinted against the door launching himself shoulder first against the steel and with a loud thunderous booming sound the door and himself flew into the room.
Looking up from his prone position he noticed that the room was different, the furniture was not completely broken down and rotten for one. He stood up brushing the dust of his body and inspected his surroundings. The walls were lined with shelves filled to the brim with books of all sorts. The floor was covered in strange runes forming a magic circle which he decided he should step out of. The magic circle glowed in a faint red light but was otherwise non-reactive. Zal’Rodal had of course dabbled in the magical arts as any Dark Lord had but he was far from an expert in such matters, although he remembered most magical circles were used to summon something or someone. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the shimmering light of a silver metal piece that poked out of a leather satchel placed next to a pile of books. He approached the satchel, removed one of the metal pieces and moved it between his fingers while inspecting it. The metal in his hands looked very much like a piece of mage metal or as it was most commonly known Visapis. The metal acted as a storage pool of magical energy, it was used by mages to cast spells if they required large amounts of magical power or their own had run out. With the contents of the sack he would be able to cast spells, perhaps even activate the summoning circle in the room.
He looked at the books on the desk to see if any of them pertained to summoning magic as he reached out towards the books a hand shot out from underneath the pile and grabbed his forearm. The hand was a monstrous mixture of bone and flesh, the light of the torch was not enough to reveal it fully. “Who are you?” a voice drier than any dessert spoke. A body connected to the hand still holding onto him rose amidst the pile of books, rotten flesh hanging from ancient bones. Books cascaded off the body as it stood at its full height. “Are you Mernur? Have you returned to me, my lord?” the question was spoken in a whisper but the creature's voice carried itself across the room.
“I am Zal’Rodal, the new ruler of this place. Surrender yourself to me and I will allow you the privileges of serving a new master,” he said, using his other arm to release himself from the creature's grip.
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The creature fell to its knees and wailed, “You have not returned then my master?” its words not directed at anyone in the room, “Have you truly forsaken me?” the creature then turned its gaze at Zal’Rodal. “I swore to protect this pace from intruders, leave now and I shall spare you!”
“Spare me?” he asked incredulously, looking at the mangled creature of flesh and bone before him, “if anyone is going to spare someone it will be me.”
With surprising speed, the creature raised its hand towards Zal’Rodal, immediately three bolts of purple fire formed in its rotten palm and were immediately fired at the Dark Lord. He managed to dodge the first two ducking them as they flew above his head, the third bolt, however, struck him in the shoulder causing him to recoil. Zal’Rodal retreated some steps further, still wary of magicians after his previous encounter with one. The creature spread out its arms and a circle of purple flames erupted in the room, tendrils of flames shooting out and scorching his flesh with every touch. He retreated further, stepping backwards until his back hit the end of the rooms and the flames grew ever closer.
He turned away from the bright flames and saw he was next to a bookshelf. It took him only an instant to recognise a tome that could get him out of this scenario. He grabbed an old book bound in red leather, the title of which made him shudder, it had only been days since he last had to deal with its contents. The book was simply titled, Fireball, and he intended to use it. He ripped open the book and started chanting its contents, the creature's face was distorted in fear.
As he approached the final words of the magical chant he rushed forward and launched the book at the creature's skull. The heavy spellbook impacted with a loud thud and landed on the grimy floor. Immediately the flames subsided and the creature dove after the book removing it from the floor. “Do not destroy my treasures!” it yelled as it clutched the book to its chest, no longer paying attention to Zal’Rodal. The Dark Lord rushed forward and with a single strike of his fist separated the undead creature's head from its body. The head fell to the ground rolling until it hit the far wall. “I hate mages,” Zal’Rodal muttered to himself.
Having destroyed his opponent he turned his attention back towards the bookshelves, he was sure there had to be something relating to the magic circle under him. He spotted a number of interesting titles ranging from the management of kingdoms and armies, magical spells, and the proper way to make an omelette which apparently did not include eggs. His search ended when he found a book on summoning in the pile the creature was hiding in. He flipped through the pages until he found the summoning ritual that required the most magical energy and returned his attention to the magic circle. He held the Visapis in one hand while holding the ritual book in the other and started chanting. The metal started glowing violently in his hands, releasing its magical energy into the circle. The magic circle started glowing brighter as the chant continued. When he spoke the last word of the chant the Visapis turned to dust in his hands as the last sliver of magical energy disappeared from within it. The magical circle emitted a bright light and then covered the room in fog.
As the fog dissipated, Zal’Rodal looked around the room but did not find anyone or anything new. He asked himself if the summoning had failed. Perhaps he didn’t have enough magical energy for the ritual? Did he make a mistake in the chant?
“Ahem,” a low voice resounded. Zal’Rodal looked around trying to find the source of the voice without success. “Down here,” the voice said. The Dark Lord looked down and saw the creature he had summoned. He had envisioned a great warrior or hellish beast, instead, he had summoned an animal, and not a particularly frightening one at that. He stood in front of a ferret with black fur and little horns growing from behind its ears, the ferret also sported a black hat with a white feather and wore a matching jacket. As it noticed that its presence had been acknowledged it gave a slight bow of its head and spoke again, “Migaal, at your service. Oh, my Darknificence.”
