Preparing Himself

Now that the materials had been collected, it was time to prepare himself. In order to bind a powerful demon to himself, he would need a powerful sigil. One that interacted with himself directly. Travelling through the marshes, Gorandis stopped under a wide tree. He reached into his tightly bound bag and two tomes were grabbed, the one on spirits... and the one on Necromancy. He had been studying the practices of the latter quite extensively.

He could trust no one, and so he'd had to practice all of this on himself. Mapping out the mana circuits more specifically. His schools of magic had made that easier and even now, he could get a feeling for it. But just a feeling, he found it hard to visualise while he wasn't currently trying to map it out using his own magics.

A small current began to flow along his circuits, a semi strong surge of lightning, strong and steady flowing all around. On the tip of his right index finger, he created a small ball of lightning. Bringing it to his other arm, he held it a few inches above and gently began to lower it until the got the sensation he was after. The gentle repelling of like charges.
(Gorandis)

It had taken some time to practice this, to even begin to map them out. But true Necromancy required more than just feeling it out like this. Granted, he wasn't aiming for Necromancy, but just using some of its methods but if he did not have the greatest control, he couldn't do what he really wanted to do. He couldn't bind what he rightfully felt was his.

His hands came scanning over his arm and while he could still feel the gentle repulsion, he needed more. He closed his eyes and began to pour mana inwards, into his own circuits. A dangerous and perhaps foolish method, but he needed to truly grasp himself for this. And so, section by section, mana was poured in and a reading was taken.

First his hand, then his arm, then his shoulder repeated again and again until everything was fully visualised in his head. And when all the sections were pieced to gather, it was time to test it fully. The red lightning began to cascade around him as he poured his own power back into himself in a small feedback loop. Nothing too great... but nothing too dangerous.
(Gorandis)

This was repeated multiple times with half hour breaks taken in between sessions to read over the books again. The spirit tome did not have much in it, admittedly, but what it did contain was still helpful. About the ties between the summoner and the summoned. They were weak, frail things that relied heavily on the caster's side. But what if more autonomy was given?

Necromancers could raise the dead and have them run off who knows how far or where to. Even the Necromancer Calliope had managed to do it with other spirits, bound them with more autonomy. Gorandis wished to do this with a single spirit... A demon. Something that would give him power, give him infamy... give him respect.

And the only true way to give it autonomy... would be to give it more of himself. A chunk, a piece of his soul. Well, not quite that dramatic, but in theory, yes. He had to divert a good portion of himself to keep the bond strong. And he was willing to do so. He was willing to lose some of himself to get what he wanted. But in order to do that, he had to change himself.
(Gorandis)

After several sessions, several repeats, Gorandis felt himself ready. He felt he knew his circuits enough to design the runes he would need for this. His knowledge was shallow, but it covered everything he needed. He wouldn't be able to enchant an object beyond interacting with the soul or with the spirit. But he was still capable of enchanting himself.

He stripped off the top half of his clothing. Robe, cloak, weapon, armour. All of it fell to the marshy ground as he let his pale, undefined body be open to the air. He rolled his shoulders, trying to relax as he took a seat cross legged. Around him, the dark lightning began to snake out once more, but instead of coating his body evenly, it began to coalesce.

Mere inches above his skin it gathered, hovering above in solid, unmoving patterns. They formed intricately, like strange, crimson tattoos. But to Gorandis, a tattoo wouldn't nearly be permanent enough. He needed something far, far better. And so, once the intricate network had completed, he breathed heavily and closed his eyes.
(Gorandis)

The crimson surge descended, coming to rest on his skin. The pale flesh beneath instantly blistered up, burning underneath the strong current. He winced, of course he did. he wanted to cry out, to cringe and shrink back. But he clenched his hands and bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. But he still remained steady.

Or as steady as he could. He rocked back and forth, the lightning shifting with him, pinned to his body as he tried to shake off the pain. Minutes passed of this, he wasn't sure whether he could stop or not. He wanted to. Oh how he wanted to. But he wasn't sure he was done. wasn't sure that the runes had been completed properly yet.

And if he stopped too early than all of what he'd done would have been a waste. But there was only so much he could take. he wasn't exactly a man used to pain and to last even these five minutes was too much for him. With a roll of thunder, the spell was released and Gorandis slumped forwards onto the soggy grass, plunging his hands deep into the wet earth to steady himself.
(Gorandis)

With shaking breaths he steadied himself. His everything stung in the open, wet air. He looked around as best he could, taking in the red markings lining his shoulders and chest. The burnt branded flesh. His fingers came up, caked in mud and he carefully ran one down a length of blistered flesh. He sucked air in sharply but felt like the line was solid.

The only thing left would be to test it. The pain would help here. Help keep up clarity. He sat back and outstretched his arms, closing his eyes again. He powered up the spell and he could feel the shift, the mana flowing along new pathways. He shuddered as the new sensation brought goosebumps to the edge of the scarred flesh.

He opened his eyes and watched as the scars began to glow a sickly deep purple. THeir magic activating as the mana converged into a single pool towards the centre of his abdomen. There, the mana began to well up before pouring out in a deep purple tendril, much like the runic circles before it, the magic swayed out in the air languidly as he stared at it.
(Gorandis)

He'd done it, the runes were prepared across his body.The pain, it had been brutal, but it had been enough to blot out what he'd done... at least for now. And now his mind was focused. Focused on the final ritual. His body was ready, the materials were ready. All that needed doing was the final circle and then everything would be ready barring the location. The Citadel... but it was far too crowded right now.

Gorandis would have to wait until the war had emptied it. And then, only then, could he pull at the thread he'd woven. He would empower the points spread out across the country and make that barricade, pulling all the spirits in so that he could find the proper one...
(Gorandis)