Tales of Hakiem: The Fall of Amnist

Despite the heat of the day, the children gathered round Hakiem chattering in the sunblasted street as he tried to get to the blessed shade of The Vulgar Unicorn. "Tell us a story, Hakiem" they called out as they swarmed about him.
Hakiem sighed, but a storyteller must tell stories, he cannot choose his audience. At least, not if he's being paid. "What am I offered?" he demanded.
One of the children held up a full gold piece. By Avandra, how'd the whelp get that? Hakiem wondered. Aloud, he announced loftily, "That will do. But I don't tell my stories in the middle of the street! Oh very well, follow me. I will tell you something worth your wealth." He led the children down to the end of the block, past the dingy grey tenements edging this street until they came to Lesser Marketsquare. There he settled on the edge of the square, in the inadequate shade of a dying sapling.
He held out his hand for the coin. The urchin hesitated, then dropped it into his hand. "Very well, my lord," Hakiem said, only lightly mockingly. "And what story would you like today?"
"Tell us of the Ruin of Amm-ist!" the whelp declared.
Naturally thought Hakiem with an inward sigh. But a storyteller must tell stories, and the coin was genuine. So without the slightest outward sign of irritation the professional merely corrected the child's pronounciation. "You mean Amnist. Very well, gather round." And Hakiem began to weave his tale...
"It was early in the first of Greater Dwarven Wars, when the Campolea found itself in the greatest peril it had faced since the Empire's founding. A mighty army of Dwarves came marching over the Northern border, down from the Highlands there. They-"
"I 'eard they was coming to stamp out Ammist 'cause it had one of Scion Kedrick's cousins there" a boy interjected. Another replied, "nu-uh, they came to Ammish 'cause there was a magic axe they wanted, and-"
Now Hamish rose up, cloak billowing out dramatically, "and who is telling this story?" He demanded. They all promptly quieted down. "Thank you. And I repeat, it's pronounced Amnist. To continue:
The army of Dwarves came upon Amnist first, for it was then the most northern of the Great Cities of Campolea. And though all was open grassland around them, and they were far from their halls of stone, this is not disuade them. But the walls of Amnist were high and strong in those days, and the men there brave, and the Elves with their bows standing proud upon the walls kept the Dwarves at bay. And so the Dwarves settled down to a siege.
Now the people of Amnist expected the siege would soon be broken as the other cities of Campolea came to their rescue. But this was not so. Kendrick the Fool had sent many agents through all the province at this time, gathering new forces for battle further East, and so the other cities had no relief to spare; they must fortify themselves and await their own times of trial. And so the siege passed one weary month into the next, and the next.
And now the food began to run short. And so the people spoke amongst themselves and debated what to do. And some gave up hope and argued they should sue for peace. And some remained hopeful, and said the rest of Campolea would come to save them. And some poor fools to be sure likely believed that the Scion would yet come to Campolea leading his Grand Army and drive the Dwarves away. But none of these things came to pass, and the siege went on.
The siege went on, and now the food ran out. And soon the water was foul, for the wells began to run dry, for the summer was past, and autumn was now at her peak. And some hoped winter itself would drive the Dwarves back, but it was not so. For the Dwarves, ever industrious, had already begun to raise great mounds of earth to serve as winter barracks.
Then it was that the Lord Mayor of Amnist along with his City Council made a grave mistake. For seeing that ordinary might of arms was insufficent to obtain their salvation, and that the ordinary magics of their mages and clerics were too easily countered by the Dwarven sages, decided to ask Cale the Necromancer for aid.
Now Cale dwelt alone in a tower amongst the squallor of the poorest district, and he was shunned. For his powers were ever bent towards raising and communing with the dead, which is distasteful to the gods. And moreover, his flesh was gaunt, his robes and hair unkempt, and he stank. For Cale had no patience with the ideals nor even customs of the living, and enjoyed seeing the disgust on their faces when they beheld him. Nonetheless, when the Council summoned him, he came and stood before him.
And the Council said, "Cale the mighty! Cale the Renouned!" (Though he was neither, and never before had any called him so.) "You must save the city! Or soon we must be brought low, and the Dwarven army shall overrun Amnist and destroy us utterly."
And Cale replied, "What is this to me, save a good source of raw material for my studies?" And some of the Council turned away in anger and denounced him, and he smiled.
But others still hoping for aid replied, "You have dwelt among us many years, and though it is true we've never offered you friendship still we have tolerated your presence amongst us. Think you so the Dwarves outside will? For we have heard they have no love of necromancy."
Cale now stroked his skragly beard, and chuckled, and demanded payment. In exasperation, the Council agreed, though the fee was high, for what other choice had they? And Cale returned to his tower, to begin his great work. For it came to him that he would do more than drive the Dwarves away. He would destroy them all and in so doing teachall those around him that they must give him the respect he felt he deserved, but they did not.
The work Cale began was long and difficult. But after many rituals and with the aid of deepest black magic we dare not understand, for the sake of our souls, he was able to raise not merely a dead soul, not even a Fiend of the lower plains. Nay! Cale had reached past barriers most men would not dare, and summoned Vecna themself, Dark God of Death and Knowledge. And Cale dared to place necromantic bindings on the very God of Necromancy himself. And the God was not pleased.
"WHAT DOTH THOU THINK TO DO, LITTLE MORTAL?" thundered the Dread God of Death. "FOR AS YOU CALL ME BY MY OWN RULES I AM COME. BUT NOW SPEAK WITH MORE WISDOM THAN THOU HAST SHOWN BEFORE IN THIS LIFE, OR THOU SHALT NOT HAVE ANOTHER."

And Cale declaimed, "Behold dark God, I am the greatest of thy servants! I have penetrated furthest into thy lore than any other, and I show thee my love and respect in using thy own teachings in calling thee! My enemies are all about me, and they must be destroyed. Grant me this power to do so, and I shall increase thy realm's might by the thousands!"
But Vecna smirked and lowering now his voice replied, "If thou art my greatest follower, then thou should have no need of my aid in this. Speak to the point, what do you ask of me?"

Cale replied, "I wish the power to destroy all the Dwarves besieging this city, and then raise them up as an army to serve thee."
"And now Vecna smiled, and said, "AS THOU WISH." And power began to fill Cale, and he looked about him in glad astonishment, feeling his strength build beyond strength, power exceeding anything he'd ever conceived before. For Vecna was filling him with the power of the Divinity itself."
"Yet though Vecna granted Cale power, he did not grant Cale control. The powers that built through Cale soon surpassed anything Cale could restrain. In vain did Cale try now swiftly to weave the powers that flowed out of him into one spell or another. For no matter how swiftly he wove, no matter how great a spell he could construct still the power pulsed out of him until in agony Cale cried out, and was destroyed."
"Yet the Dark God was not done with the city. For in his death agonies Cale had tried to weave many spells to contain the power, but the only spells Cale knew were necromantic. And now with the necromancer's death the spells each released their dire effects, and the city was wasted, and all who dwelt within were destroyed, and worse then destroyed. For many of them became animate, undead perversions of their former selves, and still walk the ruined streets of Amnist to this day. And the Dwarven army was caught by these same spells, and likewise died, and undied. And so it is the siege is ended, for the city is no more, and the army is no more, but all who once dwelt there do still fight and kill and wreck and hate. And though with time many have indeed tasted finally the final death and been freed from the torment of unlife, there are still more, and none know when the final Unlife of Amnist will finally be laid to waste."
The children all shuddered as Hakiem finished his tale, then as children do who hear a ghost story they began to debate amongst details about what it must have been like, and what Vecna must have thought dealing with the vile Cale, and how much of the city might still be standing, and, and...
... but when they turned to Hakiem to ask more questions, they found he was gone.