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The sands are struck once more by an intense windstorm, the powerful gale blows the sand at flesh rending speeds as the dunes shift and change as nature ordered. As the sand eroded away the roofs of ruined towers slowly became visible, ever so slowly the towers rose from the desert as the burial place of an ancient civilization was once again revealed.
The tomb shook as dust was disturbed from thousands of years of airless stillness.
The crumbling labyrinth of halls, great halls, tombs, passageways, alcoves, treasure rooms, and armories were blasted with the displacement of fresh air with the stale air of the dead.
"Where is my soul?"
Kalia awoke in utter darkness, wrapped from head to toe in cursed burial wrappings that had long ago lost what magic was left in them. He lay in a sarcophagus made especially for him and his great size. Kalia tore his arms free of the bindings with ease and lifted the lid of the coffin, chains held the lid in place. With a powerful shove the rusted chains broke and he sat up.
He was surrounded by his personal treasure trove, all of his earthly possessions gathered into one place.
And a series of decorated urns with fancy lids that he knew with a sinking feeling could only be holding his internal organs
Freeing his legs he stood up and wandered the room. Someone took great pains to seal off this room specifically, if he didn't have inside knowledge of the secret passageways and hidden doors he might never have found the exit. The wall slid open to reveal another room, this one full of ancient traps, the hieroglyphs telling a story, and a warning of what happened to those that defied the gods.
He absently touched his face and realized that it was still covered by his burial mask and funeral wrappings, but he could see just fine. Being dead was strange, he didn't feel anything. No pain, no discomfort, no hunger for even the flesh of the living.
After retrieving his weapons and armor he wandered about the temple, avoiding the traps and the nearly drained magical guardians. Sand was everywhere, pouring in through the air holes and eventually the windows as he ascended through the palace. All along the way he saw the bodies of his people, buried in row after row of coffins, some decorated according to last wills and testaments as befitted the wealthy, others faceless and nameless.
Perhaps if he used some of his power he could allow them to return to their bodies, but the strategist in him told him to wait. There is no telling how long he had been dead, what kind of world did he live in. Outside was the shifting desert, who knows what lay out there or beyond?
If he was the least bit responsible, he had to investigate before he put his people into danger. So it was into the desert he went, he didn't shamble like a corpse, in fact from a distance one probably couldn't tell that he was a mummy, save for the burial wrappings that wouldn't be noticeable from a distance.
But trouble came for him as he walked into the raging dust storm, he felt no pain as the sand struck him, so he didn't worry too much about it. But ever so slowly the sand began eating away at his body, tearing the desiccated skin and flesh from his bones as his remaining burial wrappings hung in tatters around him. He now walked through the desert, a cleaned and white skeleton animated by some power unknown by even him, though he hadn't yet put his mind to the mystery.
As he traveled the shifting sands were no stranger to bones, as the dunes shifted like the sea in the wind bodies were revealed and hidden by the waves, long ago battles were fought here and the dead left to the elements. The sun baked away any remaining semblance of flesh and he was truly like any one of the corpses he passed by.
When night feel he came upon the first sign of living civilization, a fire to the east. He went to it and found the travelers sleeping with an inattentive guard.
They were a small trade caravan, so he was able to easily steal some new clothes and articles of clothing to cover his grim visage.
From there matters improved for him, he found a city called Vel Anir that settled on the edge of a great forest, and from there he was able to pass himself off as an adventurer which allowed him to make some decent coin, as well as the opportunity to travel and see this new world for himself.
The tomb shook as dust was disturbed from thousands of years of airless stillness.
The crumbling labyrinth of halls, great halls, tombs, passageways, alcoves, treasure rooms, and armories were blasted with the displacement of fresh air with the stale air of the dead.
Kalia awoke in utter darkness, wrapped from head to toe in cursed burial wrappings that had long ago lost what magic was left in them. He lay in a sarcophagus made especially for him and his great size. Kalia tore his arms free of the bindings with ease and lifted the lid of the coffin, chains held the lid in place. With a powerful shove the rusted chains broke and he sat up.
He was surrounded by his personal treasure trove, all of his earthly possessions gathered into one place.
And a series of decorated urns with fancy lids that he knew with a sinking feeling could only be holding his internal organs
Freeing his legs he stood up and wandered the room. Someone took great pains to seal off this room specifically, if he didn't have inside knowledge of the secret passageways and hidden doors he might never have found the exit. The wall slid open to reveal another room, this one full of ancient traps, the hieroglyphs telling a story, and a warning of what happened to those that defied the gods.
He absently touched his face and realized that it was still covered by his burial mask and funeral wrappings, but he could see just fine. Being dead was strange, he didn't feel anything. No pain, no discomfort, no hunger for even the flesh of the living.
After retrieving his weapons and armor he wandered about the temple, avoiding the traps and the nearly drained magical guardians. Sand was everywhere, pouring in through the air holes and eventually the windows as he ascended through the palace. All along the way he saw the bodies of his people, buried in row after row of coffins, some decorated according to last wills and testaments as befitted the wealthy, others faceless and nameless.
Perhaps if he used some of his power he could allow them to return to their bodies, but the strategist in him told him to wait. There is no telling how long he had been dead, what kind of world did he live in. Outside was the shifting desert, who knows what lay out there or beyond?
If he was the least bit responsible, he had to investigate before he put his people into danger. So it was into the desert he went, he didn't shamble like a corpse, in fact from a distance one probably couldn't tell that he was a mummy, save for the burial wrappings that wouldn't be noticeable from a distance.
But trouble came for him as he walked into the raging dust storm, he felt no pain as the sand struck him, so he didn't worry too much about it. But ever so slowly the sand began eating away at his body, tearing the desiccated skin and flesh from his bones as his remaining burial wrappings hung in tatters around him. He now walked through the desert, a cleaned and white skeleton animated by some power unknown by even him, though he hadn't yet put his mind to the mystery.
As he traveled the shifting sands were no stranger to bones, as the dunes shifted like the sea in the wind bodies were revealed and hidden by the waves, long ago battles were fought here and the dead left to the elements. The sun baked away any remaining semblance of flesh and he was truly like any one of the corpses he passed by.
When night feel he came upon the first sign of living civilization, a fire to the east. He went to it and found the travelers sleeping with an inattentive guard.
They were a small trade caravan, so he was able to easily steal some new clothes and articles of clothing to cover his grim visage.
From there matters improved for him, he found a city called Vel Anir that settled on the edge of a great forest, and from there he was able to pass himself off as an adventurer which allowed him to make some decent coin, as well as the opportunity to travel and see this new world for himself.
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This is just advertising for my new character that I want to start playing with!
I'm still slowly writing in the details since I haven't had access to my computer today, but here's the gist.
Kalia Oro Khastan is an undead necromancer that has disguised himself and is taken to adventuring to see what the world has become since his death.
He's friendly and open to joining up with other adventurers. Friendships, enemies, teamwork, dungeon delving, even the drama of a romantic interest would be a welcome plot twist!
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