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There are tales of ghouls and the dead rising along the Eastern Allir Reaches. The Templar chapter based of Allria has gone to investigate the matter... and perhaps bring to an end to whoever is at the root of this evil...

Interested? Find out more here.

OOC:
A necromancer seems to be ravaging the Eastern Allir Reaches(near the spine). Some of the Templars are trying to stop him/her. Feel free to join in as a survivor, a passerby, maybe the necromancers servant!

Chronicles A Remnant of the Past

Discussion in 'The Chronicles' started by Amankh Kaltar, Dec 2, 2018.

  1. Amankh Kaltar

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    Amankh Kaltar An Undead from a time long past.

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    Rags and a thick tattered cloak shook in the wind of the Aberresai Savanah, the wearer traversing the near endless swaths of yellow tinted grass. A staff tapped the ground along with the figure's walk, the motion methodical and practiced and the design gilded and masterfully made, as they stopped in their walk to survey the land. A hood covered their head, the shadow obscuring the vision of a mummified skull, dried and lifeless, sand dripping from eye sockets in the occasional drip of dust.

    It was a familiar landscape, as he often saw it due it being on the outskirts of the Amol-Kalit and the massive empire that stretched across it many years past. Of course, new structures now occupy the land, as with the deserts that once occupied massive castles and pharaoh's now holding mere villages belonging to greedy and foolish bandits. He would call them kings and queens, but their land was stolen, not earned. Unknowledgable about the ruins they claim to rule over, not even of the sands they walk on. Times have changed, that was certain.

    In the Aberresai Savanah, a long road now stretched across for what must be miles, the road cobbled and certain parts unkempt while others seemed pristine. Signs occasionally popped up along the road, directing to a place they call "Elbion." A city of mages and magic, they seem to call it. Perhaps it'd be beneficial to head there? After all, assuming times have not changed drastically, the mages must be scholars of some sort. They may know of what happened to the empire of the sands, what caused such an unlikely fall.

    A quick prayer played under his breath: "Abtatu, may you bless the sands and guide me to the knowledge I seek. I wish for the past I do not know. May your presence persist beyond my years, beyond my kin, and beyond my understanding." As the prayer was muttered, the undead began to walk along the path to the city of mages and scholars. If he cannot learn of his past, then perhaps he can learn his present. Perhaps his undeath as well, and hopefully, of others like him.
     
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  2. Telemachus

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    Further down the road, a heavy carriage stood - loaded down with various scholarly equipment and supplies. The horses tied to it were preoccupied with feed bags. By the wagon, a Sidereal Elf lingered at the edge of the road, looking out a short distance into the undergrowth of the savana. Or what remained of it, anyway.

    The ground had been blackened and burned away, flattened, in some sort of preparation.

    Under Telemachus' watch, an aggrieved-looking imp carved strange symbols into the earth. The creature was about the size of a falcon, a red-skinned humanoid with leathery wings and teeth like daggers. Beady, yellow eyes bore into the ground as it upturned earth with its hands. It's tail swished about occasionally, like a prowling cat, as it went about its work. Despite its primal movements, the symbols it carved were precise.

    The movement of Amankh Kaltar along the road caught Telemachus' eye, and he half-turned to look. One look at the shambling corpse and the Elf's mouth half-opened. For that one, brief shining moment, Telemachus was completely aghast. It didn't last long. He shut his mouth again and narrowed his eyes, watching the reanimated pharaoh as it trudged ever-closer.

    This ought to be good.
     
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  3. Amankh Kaltar

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    Amankh Kaltar An Undead from a time long past.

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    The undead elf walked along the road, the staff tapping across the cobblestone in a slow rhythm. In the distance, he could see a carriage of sorts, carrying all sorts of scholarly items. It intrigued Amankh deeply, his pace slowing as he came closer and his head slowly moving to better view. Perhaps he won't even have to journey to Elbion to learn more about what has happened to both him and his people! Perhaps this elf has some knowledge about it, in some way or another.

    Upon closer inspection, a strange creature worked on a variety of symbols on the ground. It was clearly not doing something out of fun or to occupy the time, no. The preciseness of the symbols suggested otherwise. He wondered briefly what type of magic these symbols and that creature was for, and if it was one he was familiar with. He tried to search his memories, but was quick to realize that would be a fool's errand. His memories were already vague enough, to try and find a specific spell he didn't regularly use was a useless task.

    Amankh was brought out of his thoughts by the now-watching Elf, who seemed to have a brief moment of shock as he gazed upon him. On instinct, Amankh readjusted his hood to ensure it covered his evidently dead face more. From the few times he had been spotted and people realized he was a member of the living dead, the response usually consisted of immediate outrage and pitchforks. If the Elf did indeed realize his nature as an undead, then this was at least a calmer encounter than the ones that came before. If not, then he should still keep his distance. However, the magic and any potential knowledge he may hold is too intriguing and enticing to simply ignore.

    Stopping some feet away from the carriage, a raspy voice emanated from the ragged figure, saying, "Hello, traveller. Are you of Elbion? I'm looking to travel there, as I've heard there is a great deal of knowledge one could learn by visiting the College there. " As he spoke, a jaw of dried skin along with shining gilding escaped from the shadow caused by Amankh's hood. "I'd imagine you are at the very least knowledgeable on it," the rags shifted as a covered arm gestured over at the imp going along it's work carving symbols and the scorched land, "if you do not live there." The undead spoke a surprisingly regal and formal version of Common, although it was clear he wasn't as skilled as a regular nomadic or travelling Sand Elf would be.
     
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  4. Telemachus

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    Telemachus had half-expected Amankh Kaltar to attack him outright, as undead were wont to do, but instead this one came forward and spoke. Rather eloquently, too, if somewhat... Archaic. Strange. Suspicion did not yet sinkaway from Telemachus' features and the Sidereal Elf held the undead's gaze with still-narrowed eyes.

    It was hiding its appearance, but Telemachus could detect the magicks reanimating it. Something was off. This thing had no master. That made it a rarity as much as a danger.

    "I am," Telemachus answered, tone flat as the ground they walked on. "Though I do not imagine one such as you would be welcome there."

    A polite way of acknowledging Amankh's condition, if there was one.

    Necromancy had been banned by the College, and that seemed to include anything spawned from it. And even if it didn't, like most places, it would give this thing a wide berth, if not attempt to destroy it outright. For safety reasons, of course. Telemachus could understand. But if it were up to him, they would be better off studying it first.

    "What business do you have in Elbion, stranger?"
     
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  5. Amankh Kaltar

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    Amankh Kaltar An Undead from a time long past.

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    #5 Amankh Kaltar, Dec 2, 2018
    Last edited: Dec 3, 2018 at 4:21 PM
    If Amankh had an eyebrow to raise, he would've raised it at the elf's comment. That confirmed his knowledge, although thankfully the elf was being a bit more civilized about it, unlike the various others who be chased the undead off with torches and pitchforks. Amankh examined the elf carefully, not closing the distance. He was clearly an elf, but not one of the sand. Whether he knew anything of the empire of sand elves was a coin toss.

    "Ah."
    The word came out with a bit of an exasperated sigh, a faint plume of sand escaping his mouth as he did so. A hint of disappointment, anger, and acknowledgement were all present in the word, mixed together. "Disappointing, one would've hoped a city of scholars and mages would be a bit more open to those faced with Unliving then peasants, but alas." The sand drifted down to the road, before somehow being pulled back into his mouth with a deep breath and a quick motion of the hand, settling back down. The feeling would likely be uncomfortable to nigh lethal if it were a mortal doing it, but Amankh had grown used to the sensation as time went on in his unlife.

    "Well, my business was to visit it in search for some storage of historical texts, musings, theories, perhaps even some magical texts and books, you understand. Being a city of mages and scholars, I assumed they would have at least one large repository of knowledge. However, if they are just as the others I've met, it appears to be a hopeless task." The words were spoken with a hint of superiority present in his voice, which was typical for some elves. How scholars could be afraid of an undead trying to read, he would never comprehend. A necromancer, he could at least begin to understand, as a user of necromancer is believed to be willfully evil by a large population now. However, an undead shouldn't follow the same line of thought, as they clearly didn't ask to be raised. It all seemed rather confusing, but it seems most things nowadays and in the past are like that.

    "What magic is your creature doing, if I may ask? I assume it's a familiar of some sort, or perhaps a conjuration?" Many of the magical disciplines present today are different from when he was alive, and those he was familiar with have been changed by practicioners and mages.
     
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  6. Telemachus

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    "As it presently stands, they are scarcely welcoming of non-humans either," Telemachus replied. A cold comfort to one such as Amankh, to be sure. People could not control the species they were born into. In Telemachus' experience, however, those undead that retained their agency often underwent the transformation willingly. Then went mad from social isolation.

    He wondered, briefly, how far along this one might have been. Not enough to begin attacking people outrgith, but here it was walking around in the open. Something must have been amiss.

    Telemachus had been about to ask another question, but Amankh Kaltar beat him to it. The Sidereal Elf turned and looked back to the Imp, Barkas, as it labored. Like he was noticing it for the first time.

    An instructor at heart, Telemachus could not help but offer an explanation. "He is preparing a summoning circle. The glyphs must be outlined precisely to attract the correct attention, once the ritual begins."

    Errors in drawing a summoning circle were the bane of many conjurers. One switched glyph could be the difference between calling a helpful attendant or an unbound Fleshcurse Monstrosity. Telemachus blinked, as if recalling who (or what) he was speaking to, and looked back at Amankh.

    "What was it that you sought from Elbion's library?"
     
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  7. Amankh Kaltar

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    Amankh Kaltar An Undead from a time long past.

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    "Well, at least they are not as discriminatory as I had originally thought." The sentence had a very apparent sense of sarcasm to it, but it was clear that while it was disappointing discovery, it was somewhat comforting to know that undead were not the sole race that is discriminated against in the city. A part Amankh's mind began to think on other places that could possibly house an undead in their borders, but none came to mind, due to both a lack of knowledge and the clear fear many hold against them.

    As Telemachus went into the logistics of what the conjured creature, an imp it appears, was doing, Amankh looked over the sigils and glyphs, paying a close mind to the words the Sidereal Elf said. "I see. I've read and seen similar, but it appears the methods have been... Modified. As to be expected, considering the differences present, however."

    Whether that modification is beneficial or simply another instance forgetting the better innovations of one's predecessors must be seen, Amankh mused. "Have you practiced this magic well, or are you a student practicing what they've learned?" The undead seemed surprisingly lively, at least when the topic shifted to magic. Undying bounds of curiosity about the magical world have not laid to rest after a thousand or two years below in a ghastly crypt. Rather, they seem to have been reinvigorated by the new swaths of knowledge laid before him in this new world. It was a way to maintain some semblance of sanity, now.

    The undead shifting his focus to the elf once again as they asked their question. "Learn of the world I left behind, as well as the one in front of me. That is what I sought. Whether that knowledge was even present in the library, regardless of whether or not I'm accepted, is debatable though. The past is unknown even to me, who had lived it for years upon end." A pang of sorrow hit the undead elf as the sentence finished. To live without knowledge of one's past seemed almost impossible to him; how could he live through the present when he did not know what came before it? Did all undead have this dilemma, he questioned in his mind, between wanting to know the future but forgetting the past?
     
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  8. Telemachus

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    "I am the foremost expert on the art in Elbion," Telemachus said, pursing his lips. Something about him might have indicated he had needed to explain this before. "Where did you learn to read Antikatherean?"

    While not strictly required, all of Telemachus' summoning circles utilized Antikatherean glyphs and symbols. It was something of an esoteric language, not well-studied or documented by species outside of the Sidereal Elves. He found that they lent a certain gravity and power that other runic languages could not.

    Telemachus titled his head to the side, regarding the undead as one might regard any minor curiosity. This was quite strange. Fortuitous that they should happen to cross paths. He could not help but ply it for knowledge. "And which world did you leave behind, precisely?"
     
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  9. Amankh Kaltar

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    Amankh Kaltar An Undead from a time long past.

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    "Then, I am pleased to meet one," Amankh said, a hint of genuine respect mixed in with curiosity in his voice. "Is that what is called? Antikatherean? It's familiar, but clearly it has changed in some ways since I've last seen it. I recall some elves traveling through who would occasionally use it to write, though I never learned the language." Antikatherean, as it was apparently called, seemed almost alien to the undead, with its structure startlingly different to the language of the Sand Elves. It seemed almost ornamental, more like it belonged on the gilding on a palace wall than on the floor, being carved out by an imp.

    The undead, hood still draped over the dried skin and bone of his skull, looked similarly curious at Telemachus. The elf clearly was an elf, but their were also clear differences between the two. Unlike Amankh's eyes, when they were still alive and non-magically animated, the elf's eyes were pure white, looking like milky pools, not a pupil to be seen. They clearly didn't originate in the desert, but beyond the borders of the sands that once were ruled over by the empire, Amankh's knowledge dwindled down to mere partially remembererd folk tales and stories.

    A moment of hesitation struck Amankh as he pondered the question, a brief moment of wondering whether or not he should speak of the world left behind. To leave it in his memories, so that the elf would not seek to defile whatever ruins may remain of the once great civilization. However, this caution died down quickly with the resurgence of the idea that the elf might know of the specifics of its fall. So, he went on. "I hail from an empire that stretched across the sands of what you call the Amol-Kalit. No matter where you looked, spires pierced the skies and stairs led up to the sun and stars. Towers lined the walls, like the jaw of a serpent. Gilded palaces, golden windows, and buildings as grand as the moon and sun." A cloaked arm rose, gesturing towards a vague direction, maneuvering to paint an image. "And in the middle, past the bustling people, past the river that flowed through marble streets, past the countless cities under their control, was the Pharoah, the grace of Abtatu!"

    Amankh seemed, to, as he spoke and relayed the slightly romanticized image of the empire, take on a more patriotic and proud tone, raising his voice to a grandious level. Once he finished relaying, he paused for a moment, before continuing. "That was... many, many suns ago, and the empire that once ruled over the sands is now nothing more than ruins beneath it."
     
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