Open Chronicles The road to Eternum

They had trudged for a long time now, and biscuit had done his best to keep up. A living thing got tired though, and much to her silent distress, had been slain and reanimated. The small frown that adorned her face was the only sign of discontent as she watched his ear flick for a time. The poor thing had done she and Edmund a great service, having been either to smart or simply lacking it, to be fearful of the red haired lich. She felt like she had done the mule wrong by bringing him along, but let the feeling go as she heard the large armored warrior speak to the elf.

There seemed to be trouble waiting in these lands, and Magnan had seen fit to equip and train her with a two handed hammer. Thankfully, she had the strength to wield the thing, even if she wasn't armored like the others had been. After several lessons on the road, she was content to have a very simple strategy planned in case of emergency.

Swing hard, and hit as much as she could. Maybe pray that the others fended off the danger first.

She had done very little fighting in her time, as she and Edmund both had tried to keep well under the radar for ease of travel. Outright murder near large towns did not bode well for secrecy. Granted, whole towns suddenly succumbing to dark magic didn't either. A frown appeared at the thought. The old man was a wonder with his magic though, turning what he hadn't used to raise Albedo and the miller into simple ghouls for ease of mind.

The conversation seemed to cut short as the horse took a few quick steps forward and made the talk fall flat. She avoided looking at either party, since the words had annoyed the banshee and the other seemed edgy enough without her interference. She patted biscuit gently to take her mind off it, unsure of how long he had to hold onto this form. It certainly pleased her eyes, and she would be sad to see one of the few animals that hadn't fled from her become little more than a skeleton.

Amankh continued wordlessly through the snowy expanses, mounted atop the skeletal remains of a horse, risen to serve new masters on their march to new lands. The feeling invoked a memory, one of a large beast that he had once sat upon, hide shifting tirelessly as it made a trek through the tumultuous sands of the Amol-Kalit. However, that was all the memory brought to mind, and whatever his mount once was, it was now no more decrepit that the ruins buried beneath the very same sands they once stood upon. Speaking of empires, this new venture had certainly opened up many avenues. The idea of a new home was tempting, and one that, should they rise to the occasion and manage to withstand whatever challenges or foes may stand in their way, one that could be of great benefit. The Eternum, he believed it would be called. Perhaps this empire will live up to its name and stand atop snowy peaks for an eternity, just as its people might.

The decayed mummy slowly turned its head to the others that marched forward, idly listening to their conversation as sand escaped from its cell of bone and into the air, mingling with the lightly falling snow before eventually returning to rest within the everlasting sandstorm that resided beneath the rags and ribs of the mummy. Sand, he had considered during the march, may not be as advantageous to have in the snowy wastes of the Tundra. He had been mulling over his arcane knowledge which had, thankfully, remained within him over his brief thousands of years long period of death and even amplified once he was raised, trying to devise a method of altering his magic in such a way that it may become a bit more applicable to their future home. However, his notes were not completed, and a more prolonged contact with the environment would prove helpful to the endeavor.

He took note of the interactions between the banshee and armored undead, paying close attention to their words. Blight orcs were a new concept, one he had not heard or interacted with in his life or undeath. Apparently, however, they were strong. A faction to keep an eye on, at the very least. However, considering the general perception towards undead, most factions should have an eye kept on them. Dismissing the brief consideration, Amankh continued to march upon his skeletal mount, further towards Eternum, and whatever such a location and endeavor may bring with it.

Lorraina Night was a young woman of many talents. Those talents included singing, dancing, a mastery of both musical instruments and finding the largest amount of trouble possible in any given situation on any given day. One of her lesser appreciated talents, however, was being able to sleep absolutely anywhere. Whether it was rocking boats, the cold hard ground, or the back of a moving horse, she could manage to catch a few winks.

Rainie, as Lorraina was called, nuzzled her face in between the shoulder blades of her pillow. She was practically wrapped around Eilasandree, though she doubted the banshee minded. Suddenly, their steed sped up, jostling Rainie a bit. As she abruptly awoke, she took the opportunity to caress her beloved’s torso. Smirking to herself, she distantly thought that Eila likely hadn’t put on any of her sensory spells, so Rainie could probably get away with a little lechery if she wanted to.

Once that thought dispersed, she became aware of her surroundings. Unfortunately, she and Eila weren’t cantering off toward some beachside villa to spend a lazy weekend together. Rainie sat up straight, stomach flipping unpleasantly at the noises around her.

“Oh, bloody hell,” she muttered, releasing Eila to scrub her eyes and stretch. Her rear was seriously sore, too. “Where’s the fire?” She complained whiningly.

After a little bit of continued marching, she became aware of the stiffness of her limbs. Who knew how long she had been astride horseback, and her hips were seriously going to feel the burn once she got off. She groaned internally in misery at the thought.

“I’m going to walk for a while, love,” she told Eilasandree with a noisy kiss under the banshee’s ear, just so she’d know Rainie had done it if she couldn’t feel it.

Once their skeletal steed slowed, she stiffly slid off the saddle and stood there in agony for a few seconds before bending each knee and shaking out the pins and needles. “Astra’s bow, that hurts,” she cursed faintly.

Huffing, she rummaged through her pack secured to the back of the saddle and drew out her wooden flute. She looked up at Eila with a smile and said, “I’ll signal you if I want to get back on, alright?” She was referring to their secret signal, which sounded much different from any marching songs Rainie may feel inclined to play.

With that, the bard began walking, stretching her sore legs. She drew her cloak tighter on her shoulders against the chilly air, and watched the snow flakes which drifted lazily to the earth.

Her shoulder brushed some unknown undead, grave dirt still clinging to its leathery flesh, and she withdrew in disgust. Disturbed, she sought out Albedo, who had been the least frightening undead she’d met, after Eila.

Eilasandree Ival Albedo

Amankh had been riding silently upon his steed of bone and death, skeletal eye sockets watching the movements of Rainie as she descended from her seat behind Eilasandree and began to walk with a cursory glance. He was about to turn his attention to other matters that required mental consideration, almost descending into his internal thoughts and notes, when the muttering of his name dragged him out of his ruminations. He glanced over to the source of the beckoning, guiding his mount to the side of Eilasandree as she asked. In her hands was a tome, the same she had been reading for the majority of the time they were marching onward. During their traveling, he had to admit that he was curious as to the nature of the tome and its importance to the elf, only catching slight glimpses of its pages and the knowledge that lied enscribed within it inside the etchings and the menagerie of diagrams that littered the tome.

"Yes?" As he rode up to the side of Eilasandree, he grasped the book offered to him with gilded and mummified hands, rags and jewelry dangling in the slight breeze as he did so. "Let me see for myself, in that case." He rested his gaze on the indicated page, tracing the diagram of what seemed to be a humanoid figure constructed out of corpses with a bony finger. His mind raced with the likely costs and necessary rituals to accomplish it, trying to see if what the tome was describing could even be done, or if it could, if it would be of aid. "It would be a monumental task, to say the least. While not impossible, it would certainly prove to be difficult. A large supply of corpses and bodies would be required, which could likely be acquired through a battlefield. To keep them attached to one another could be done through magical means, but stitches might prove to be less resource and energy intensive..." Amankh was clearly, as he was speaking, trying to consider any other issues they might run into and how to solve them. "Not to mention, of course, that we would have to find a payment for such a feat of magic. Multiple lives would have to be taken to fuel the ritual required, which might cause complications when finding the necessary people. If you wish for this creation to be sentient and have free will, that would likely cause problems due to the multiple souls being used. Complete free will would also mean a powerful being with a potentially warped psyche and possibly rebellious. With all this in mind... It is certainly possible."

He considered the possibility for a moment, entertaining it as he deliberated upon its usefulness. "Should we find ourselves with the necessary resources," he said finally, "such a creature would be a boon during the inevitable conflict our presence would spark." As he finished his final remarks he handed the tome back to Eilasandree, returning both hands to the reins of his steed. "Where did you find that tome and by whom, if I might inquire?"

Albedo had kept up with the march, and only because she kept glancing about for the mysterious blight orcs did she catch the red haired woman hopping off of the horse. And caught sight of the savanna cats that seemed to be interested in her well being. Albedo waved at Raine, making sure that the woman approached her rather than the other way around.

"Everything alright?" Albedo asked quietly. She wasn't sure if the woman was uncomfortable, or if she was bored. Either way it was nice to have someone to keep company with.

Rainie glanced up at the movement in her peripheral vision. She sighed in relief and dropped the arm she was stretching across her chest. “Albedo!” she called happily. The bard trotted over, flanked by two fresh savannah cat lichs. “It’s good to see you,” she greeted. She reached down absently and scratched at the nearest savannah cat’s ear, which was ignored blankly.

At the other red-haired woman’s concern, she smiled. “I’m as well as I can be. Just a bit saddle sore. And how about you? Doing well?” She asked with polite interest.

This was doable. Ignoring her surroundings, focusing on an individual who did not trigger all her fight or flight instincts. Rainie was a resilient and neutral woman, but even she could get spooked by walking skeletons at times.

Albedo