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The date has little baring on this story. The people within are ignorant fools who shall be banished to the far corners of Wellspring when the intelligent finally rule over them.
I have been sentenced to death. For reasons I can only assume to be a disquieting fear, or a gormless arrogance. The people of this town know little of intellect, and only preach the vacuous tales of their gods. Gods who would be no more powerful than mortals if I could've done what I had set out to do.
I grew up in the small town of Mirfield. People flock from all around to hear the inane twaddle of our high priest. The fools worship a pantheon of indisposed divine beings. I never really believed much in how great and powerful they were. Honestly, I see myself as more of a Misotheist than anything else. I can see their weakness. They hid it behind their pedestals, pretending they're better than everyone else, when in reality, they're just worthless. Father spent all of his time working away in his little shop, a blacksmith. Mother did what any self-respecting woman would do, and sold her body to the highest bidder just to piss off her husband. Obviously, their relationship was great and I had an amazing childhood. I was a little younger than twelve when the Mages Guild opened its doors. I was enamored immediately. Each school of magic filling my senses with utter wonder and amazement. I couldn't even begin to explain the childlike joy I felt. It was something to help get my mind off of the failing marriage of my parents, so why wouldn't I fall hard into it? For days I worked and worked, amassing every copper piece I could. I spent all the money I had on a small book, filled with cantrips. But it wasn't enough. The guild allowed me into their library after awhile of a begging. My excitement was immeasurable, but I stumbled upon a higher level spell that piqued my interest. It was a defensive spell, known as The Hand of Death. It was one of few Necromantic spells allowed to be used. Soon, I filled my small spellbook with Necrotic spell after Necrotic spell. Once I reached the end I got slightly frustrated. There wasn't enough. So I dug, with the limited time I had. I kept looking. Until I found it. A small, black book, stuffed behind the furthest bookshelf. It was filled with words I couldn't read, and spell far far too high for me to cast. But there was one I needed, more than the rest. Awaken Dead. I couldn't use it, but it was glorious. Beauty beyond beauty. I scribbled it down in my spellbook as fast as I could, and I felt like a god. Knowing I had a spell that could bring people back from the dead. It was amazing. I ran home quick, and got to work. My eyes slowly scanned what I had written, taking it all in. Verbal... somatic... material. Material was the hardest. It required a diamond, of which I didn't have at the time. But still. The spell was there. I've never felt happiness quite like that, and I doubt I ever will again. Inevitably, I started going back to that library to study different spells. That was my downfall. To think, what did me in was a Mage with a big mouth, and a need to stare at everything everyone was doing. I didn't even know he was behind me when I flipped passed my page with Awaken Dead. Perhaps I should've gotten a different book to fill with spells. Perhaps I should've been more cautious of my surroundings. But now, I lay here. In this dusty prison cell with nothing but a decrepit old skeleton, a pen, a piece of paper, and a diamond, hidden in my left pocket...
-Euric Levi. Magic Initiate, Necromancer.