Open Chronicles The Eternum Crosses the Channel

[Magnan Smithson]

Magnasandree watched as the Eternum marched, their numbers only having grown as those that hadn't been caught within that nightmare realm had been given the chance to catch up with the main bulk of their forces. Corpses of all races groaned and rattled next to each other. Human, elf, dwarf, orc... Every type they had been able to gather, both by the necromancers that had been lured with Eilasandree's promises, and by Eilasandree herself. Their wiped at their blade, covered in the blood of orcs as the party of hunters they had spotted and ambushed began to move once more, pink energy flowing out from their titanic body and raising those that could still move. The anguished cries of their living prisoners echoed out throughout the back of the army, spurring a feeling of pity and empathy within Magnan, whilst Eilasandree felt nothing but indifference, although she did pput effort in to quash some of Mganan's guilt. As powerful as he was, he was too... moral. Unwilling to sacrifice others in order to achieve victory. A thought that Magnan himself was well aware of, but was unable to fight against. When it came to force of will, he had long learnt that Eilasandree eclipsed him.

The shores of the blightlands were just as inhospitable as the rest of the damned place. Scorching hot, but with a chilling wind coming from further north. their goal. The still living members of the group hated it, even as the majority of the (mostly) thinking undead milled around in conversation with one another, enjoying their free will and ability to communicate, even if they had no vocal cords worth mentioning anymore. The titanic chicken bone monsters stood stock still, swaying slightly in the wind. The most recent gift from Steve, who had been placed under the care of Amankh's golden guard. The Crimson Madonna could be seen further towards the back, directing a training exercise among the more military minded of the Undead and spellcasters. Speaking of, walls of flame and ice flared closest to the ocean, as the few undead that had retained any ability to cast sells from their previous life enjoyed and became accustomed to their boost in magical power. Amankh had been put in charge of discerning any with any real talent and training them, as well as making sure they didn't accidentally spend too much mana and burn up their own soul.

The rest were put on guard duty, besides the creatures that Eilasandree had dominated whilst inside of that demonic realm and ripped free of it to serve her, their fleshy tendrils and drooling mouths letting out a foul stench as they stared deceptively mindlessly into the distance, multitude of eyes not blinking once. They were still in hostile territory, even if they were stationary, and there weren't enough resources around for them to spare on building fortifications beyond earth mounds and trenches. It was an army, a legion, in stasis, as it waited. Waited for something only the upper echelons were privy to. Eventually, after a few hours, those that hadn't known were allowed to see for themselves as the first ship came into view, quickly followed by more. It was an eclectic group, with some of the ships being manned by even more undead, their sails ghostly. However, a large portion of the small fleet were instead crewed by the living. Pirates and mercenaries with little qualms about ferrying the abominations across the sea.

Mounting their patchwork manticore, Magnasandree made their way down to wait for the ships. The Eternum was so close now, they could very nearly taste it.

 

[Amankh Kaltar]

Ice suddenly shot through the air, leaving behind crystalline sculptures that reached out to the ocean, still and unmoving. Fire came after, a different group being its caster, summoning orange embers that flashed brightly in front of them.

"Again," came Amankh's response, a hoarse sound that brought with it wisps of sand, dispersing into the scorching air, the masses of sand returning to their skeletal prison once more. The mummy paced behind the undead, who stood in a clearing on the Blightland's shores, away from the construction work and the rest of the Eternum. "I can sense talent in some of you. It is unharnessed and untamed, but I can feel it within a few of you. Perhaps in life you may have failed to realize its potential, but undeath has given you a second chance." The undead mages turned to him, a collection of rotting flesh and exposed bone, many still having lingering energy coarsing around them. Amankh stopped in his continual patrol around them, facing the group as he placed his staff on the barren ground, his robes billowing in the wasteland's gusts. "I recommend you do not waste it. The Eternum has use for arcane talent, but if it is untrained, it is only a hindrance. A pile of ash that was once a mage serves no one."

He paused suddenly, directing eyeless sockets to one of the prospective mages who was watching their hands. In their skeletal palms was a vibrant green flame, flaring unpredictably with raw power. It suddenly began to rise higher and higher, growing in size and intensity before it seemed to become too much for the undead to handle. Sand surged out the mummy's robes, quickly enveloping the flame and extinguishing it. The collective of sand left shortly after, circling the group before returning to their dormant state within the mummy's rags. Amankh began to walk towards the mage, slow in pace as he seemed to inspect them. A moment of silence passed, as the eclectic group of arcane users watched him, hardly moving.

"Patience," he said suddenly, looking down at the shorter undead, likely a human in life. "Mana is not something to use so freely. You may have more now than you did in life, but it still drains." The mage nodded slowly, managing out a weak 'I understand.' Amankh considered him for a moment, empty eyes searching the mage for an answer to a question unknown. "When we are on the boat, see me." He turned around as he left the mage with the vague command, returning to his original position overlooking the group. "Continue your training. Some of you will be seeing me on the ship. I wish to have a more in-depth training session with you. The rest, practice and heed the techniques I have taught you." The group nodded, looking back to the ocean. Shortly after, shots of magic began to streak through the sky as they returned to their training.

Amankh gave a cursory glance over them all, mentally picking which ones he would choose. Most had limited talent or potential, with a few simply not having the will needed to advance in power. However, a few showed promise as mages. Taking them on as apprentices would allow him to assume more direct control over their growth, perhaps allowing them to serve as wizards beneath him if they showed great aptitude.

He turned his head at the sound of large footsteps coming nearby, seeing Magnasandree arrive on their risen manticore mount. "The mages are progressing well," he informed them. "Most show only an average capacity for the arcane, although some are showing great potential. I will be taking them in as apprentices so that I may train them more closely. If they continue to show promise, they may well be suitable court wizards that can serve under me," he stated. While it had not been specifically stated, an archmage would be a needed position, one that Amankh could fill.

"I have also been researching a ritual that might be of assistance when we reach our destination. As we move into more frigid territories, I feel that altering my magic to match would be best." He had been planning this for quite a while, having done much reading on some of the texts they had procured to properly conduct and create the ritual. It would allow him to attune to the chilling touch of Abtatu, severing his previous one to the scorching deserts. The idea of discarding that part of his past was one that hurt, the sand being his greatest reminder of the life he had lived, but it was a necessary pain.

Eternum

 

[TTamark]

When Steve awoke he was alone and back in the blight he did not remember how he had returned, but he had more important things to worry about, like the fact he had no potatoes, he was currently a bird monster, and his friends had lost their free will. The only way to solve these problems was one at a time. First for the potatoes, Steve, found his robes, and after searching for a bit pulled out one of his potato stones, with which he quickly planted. The stone quickly grew from the ground as a standing stone, and green shoots began to shoot up from the ground maturing quickly in leafy rows. Steve, setting one potato aside, hunched over began pulling potato after potato, throwing them over his shoulder where his titanic chicken, Ghost caught them in Steve's cauldron. Steve hoped into the cauldron, and using the potatoes like sponges slowly, and carefully washed himself slowly returning to his original form as he did so. He quickly dressed himself again, and dumped the lifeless potatoes, now more like sand. The only thing now was get his friends back, but even though he could sense where they, as well as the rest of Eternum were, and they were not far, to actually do anything he would need more potatoes. So he decided to focus on gathering ingredients, and setting up as many fields as he could. He would need people to tend the fields though. So the best thing for him to do was to get ahead of them and meet them at the coast.

Steve rode up ahead past the Eternum as fast as he could to save as many people as he could acting as a harbinger of doom. He offered sanctuary in his fields to those who would listen and take heed. It had become a routine all the way up to the coast: Ride for a week performing his ritual to create a potato field stone, warning all he came across, gathering ingredients, and Planting the stone forming one of his fields, quickly giving those who would stay the rules they must follow, and begin his week of riding anew. He could do nothing for those who did not heed his warnings, they only made themselves easier prey for the horde by gathering together to fight, it only saved Eilasandree the trouble of hunting them down.

Steve met the Eternum at the coast, and had a field waiting. He watched, from his fresh potato field as the orcs who had not joined him were either raised or enslaved, being raised by Eilasandree, though, forced Steve wonder if there really was any difference; both would be slaves under her. The thought hitting all the harder as he saw his chickens again. Then he saw Magasandree, good he had a few words he would like to have with Eilasandree. Steve strode towards the giant that now housed two personalities while rubbing starch onto his hands, as he neared bones began to fly from the nearby undead to form stairs, and finally a pedestal on which Steve stood looking the titan in the eye. Steve then proceeded to stick his hand through the chest of the plate armour, and grab what would to Eilasandree feel like her collar. Steve's eyes shifted to a bit above where his hands were, looking almost through their body.

"Eilasandree, good to finally see you again. You kind of took my chickens, I do not know if you realized this, but these are free range chickens. You see I kind of make a deal with the things I raise, standard stuff like: I will raise them in their own bodies, I will set them up after they have turned, Oh, AND THAT THEY WILL RETAIN THEIR FREE WILL! Now I do not know if you knew that considering I kind of make a big deal out it, but I will make sure I am clear now: Never touch the free will of one who serves me ever again! No subtle manipulations towards loyalty or service, no affecting their personality, if I say they are free they are free. You want to know what happened to the last being that hurt those I care about? You are riding it. Now if you'll excuse me I need to free my chicks, you can keep the murder claw titan forms if you want, but their souls and bones are mine!"

Steve turned to leave, and fell off the pedestal face planting at Amankh's feet as all the bones returned to their proper places.

"It is bullshit, but I did not hit her, I did not... Oh, Hi Amarkh"

 

[Lillian Dog]

Something weird had happned to Magnan and the weird lady was all but gone, but not really, she could sense as much.
Perhaps it was true that dogs could see ghosts. She'd been staring at Magnan rather often now... unmoved. Not really at him, but something within. Something within. Not like a simple minded creature could truly comprehend, even if she could really understand speech all that well. Not even all the bones she could gnaw on would satisfy the alliran hound.

But recently, Lillian liked Steve more and his eccentricity than the discanced husk that Magnan had become. She'd part from her master to greet Steve with a sniff, jumping up and down like a bouncing ball.
She demanded headrubs. Steve, headrubs. STEVE
HEADRUBS.

 

[Magnan Smithson]

Eilasandree's anger flared at the necromancer before her, as pink energy and light began to wind and wander down Steve's arm, twisting and winding. She'd show this upstart just what it meant to threaten her. Unfortunately, before she could rip the insolent upstart's soul out screaming, she felt her will and magic be blocked by Magnan. The warrior agreed with Steve. What she was doing was wrong, and while she may feel it was necessary for the majority of undead, the chickens she controlled had been his originally and had never been a problem before. Try as she might, she couldn't move any further without being willign to expend some of her very little power at the time, and with a very unladylike huff she gave up.

And that lie would have worked on anyone but Magnan, who knew her thoughts as well as she did his. The titan's fist had reared back, but as Lillian approached Steve for cuddles and headpats. Magnan would not allow his dog to come to harm, and certainly not from his own body and its unwanted parasite of a guest. That being said, however, their jaw clacked open as the steel of their breastplate melded back together in blue light. "Steve." Magnan's voice rasped out. "While you are correct, I would recommend you never do such a thing again." They advised as Eilasandree's voice joined his own once again. "Or you will be broken." The two warned, Magnan advising him whilst Eilasandree promised. Suddenly, it felt as if a few of the strings of necromantic power connected to them had been cut, and the chicken monsters that had been placed next to the demonic transformations on guard duty began to look around, cawing hauntingly. "They are free. Do not make us regret this."

 

[Amankh Kaltar]

Amankh watched the two bicker with silent amusement, taking a step away as the skeletal staircase coalesced out of the nearby bones to raise Steve to eye-level with the fused pair-in-one. A hint of intrigue appeared in his mummified visage as he listened to their words, noticing the thinly veiled threat within Steve's accusations. He truly was firm in his desire for free will among his creations, a trait that Amankh was sure would come into conflict with Eilasandree'desires time and time again.

The mummy shifted his skull over to Magnasandree as the two made their response, their own personalities seeming to wrench control from the other as they spoke to Steve. His gaze traced the swirls of magic that began to form before them, carrying the characteristic pink hue of Eilasandree, only to vanish soon after. "There are more important matters at hand to discuss than who will be at the other's throat first," Amankh uttered in a finalitive tone as a solution was reached between the two. Giving each a look, he continued: "The ships seem to be arriving orderly. Do we have any specific plans for when the Eternum makes landfall on the Tundra?" He turned his gaze to the coast, watching the ships drift into their makeshift dock, ready to soon accept their undead passengers. "I would recommend dedicating our efforts to establishing some sort of base of operations, we have the manpower to construct one or perhaps take control of an existing settlement. It is time for our long march to end, I feel."

 

[Magnan Smithson]

Magnasandree turned away from Steve, their attention being drawn towards Amankh, one of the very few beings that both had a positive opinion of. They turned their heads to look towards the ships as the first began to dock, ramps being slid down as the horde of Undead began to board. A host of this size required a fleet to carry, and the cost was exorbitant, but it would be worth it once they made it to their destination. "Indeed, a base of operations was the first thought we had." They agreed, nodding towards the undead sand elf. "But in order to be able to construct a base that would serve as anything other than temporary, we must..." A flash of pink, as Magnan's voice stopped.

"Subjugate or crush any who would pose an immediate threat to our people. March inland until we find a suitably defensible position, 'recruit' any nearby settlements into our borders and begin construction. I have a grand vision, Amankh, and I will not allow our first settlement to be some cave." The body shuddered as the runed shield pulsed a blue light, and the pink receded once more. "Once that is complete, we must begin on our defences. The organisations of the world will not stand for out existence. A war is coming. We must prepare." With that being said, the duo turned away and made their way aboard the closest ship. A thrum of excitement could be felt by the necromancers as the Undead masses teemed. After so long, they were so close.

The Eternum had almost arrived.

 

[TTamark]

Steve missed pretty much everything that had happened after he fell. He had an extremely important task before him, and could not afford to be distracted. Therefore Steve threw himself completely into the task of making sure Lillian knew she was a very good girl. He gave he headrubs such a great girl such as her deserved, giving extra time to make sure he gave the space behind the ears the attention it needed. His hands slowly working their way towards her chin and jaw, so that they might receive some love as well. Steve looked her in her eyes, while smiling ear to ear. Steve was so absorbed in the moment he was caught by surprise when thirty colossal bird beasts tried to also fight for affection from Steve.

It took Steve a number of seconds to realize that Magasandree had really released his birds. He shook violently as each sob ripped through him. With a wave of his hand he pulled his birds' with their original bones out of the titans, the giant forms collapsing on the ground, no longer powered, nor controlled. With arms open wide he welcomed them all back, trying as best he could to embrace them all at once. Finally he was able to choke out,

"I missed you guys"

Now was the time for celebration, his children had come home. Steve ran off immediately to make the best potato stew he could, he would spare no expense on their behalf, and he would welcome all who would join him, and instructing the orcs to bring the best ingredients they could. So he ran, shouting out the good news to all who would listen, while being chased by thirty little animated chicken bones.

 

[Amankh Kaltar]

Amankh listened to Magnasandree's words, nodding in understanding. "The lesser mages could be of use to construction efforts. I'll work on teaching them more utility magic that might be of assistance both in setting up the base and operating it. The apprentices will prove useful in sieging any territories we may find that seem to already be occupied." He cast a glance towards the rows of mages practicing their magic, flurries of elements bursting out of thin air before being dispelled by their casters. He made a mental note to inform them on the ship of what type of magic they should hone to be of the most use to the Eternum. Looking back to the body-of-two, the mummy continued. "My empire fell victim to the sands of time. I do not intend to let this one do the same." The glory of the old Sand Elves may be lost now to the dunes it once stood brilliantly upon, but with him, perhaps it could live on, so long as it is the will of Abtatu.

It was with that thought that Amankh turned to leave as well, returning once more to the group of spellcasters, the blasts of arcane magic quickly dissipating at the sight of the ancient undead. "That is enough," he called out, surveying the rows with a subtle satisfaction. "You may continue your training later, with further instruction and tutoring for the promising among you. For now, we set sail for the Tundra." He paused, casting his gaze out to the sea. "We set sail for the site of an empire. An empire that you shall help build." The undead glanced at each other, some setting their eyes at the still lingering wisps of smoke that trailed from their fingertips, a reminder of their newfound power. Despite not having a connection to their emotions as the necromancers of the Eternum do, the rise of confidence and excitement among their ranks was evident even to him. "You were all many things in life. A thief, a commoner, a noble." He paced around them, his robes swaying in the chilling breeze of the Blightlands. "Keep your history in your mind, but know this, and know this well: As of now, you shall be the mages and high mages of the Eternum."

He tapped his staff against the ground, setting off a slight swirl of sand. Beckoning them with a skeletal hand, he ordered, "Now, come. It'll be a long journey ahead of us." He turned and began to walk towards the boats, the large gathering of spellcasters following after him.

 

[Sigmund Sigvatsson]

"The augurs were true."

"They usually are."

"Why would they come here? Do they think the north defenseless?"

"Possibly," answered Sigmund, the wind tugging at the furs he wore. "Possibly not. Who is to know the minds of the truly corrupted? All we know is they are here and a threat."

"There are far too many. We haven't the warriors," stated the warrior at his side. "We're outnumbered three or four to one, easily. Maybe more."

"The Halls of Valor open for the worthy come victory or defeat," the chieftain stated plainly, his eyes on the magical display in the distance and the faint outlines of ships. The seers had warned of a great danger in the south, a growing darkness along the coast.

"I would rather victory precede me to the Halls than defeat," came the snorted reply.

Sigmund only grunted in response as he gazed a moment longer. The odds were not in their favor, at least according to numbers. The few seers they had could only blunt the magic he could see, not match their fury. Their only strengths were surprise and the quality of his warriors. Seasoned and trained, they were experienced raiders and sailors, but how would they fare against an army of the undead?

"We'll wait until they hit open sea and then strike. Until then, keep us out of sight, use the mists and the Seer's scrying to keep an eye on them. If we're lucky, our calls for aid will be heeded and we'll see any allies or mercenaries."

With that, the orders were given and the small fleet of longships began their ambush preparations.

 

[Harrier]

"However, a large portion of the small fleet were instead crewed by the living. Pirates and mercenaries with little qualms about ferrying the abominations across the sea."

_____________


In the captain's cabin of one such ship, two barnacled skeletons braced their feet against each other and served well as an impromptu rack.

"The name on your payroll, Captain," said Harrier. "The undead knight they talk about, the magical colours, the shield."

"Sandrey! Magnus! Ellis! There's no need for this - mmf!"

The mercenary leader almost swallowed his tongue as the skeletons gave him another yank. They stretched him tight between them with his back suspended over their feet. Harrier turned to the chest of gold he'd received, and let him marinate for a moment.

"You've seen the leader, the death knight?"

"Mngh. Yes. Once."

"And this gold came from him, for this transport job?"

"Yes."

"So does he have three names or one?"

"I don't know! I don't! Look, mistress, the gold's all yours, just-"

Harrier snapped her fingers. The skeletons crumbled into constituent bones. The mercenary captain's back and boots hit the deck. The bones rolled into a bag, which Harrier slung over her shoulder. "I'll take a few pieces for your life," she said, "but I'm not here for your treasure. Back to work, Captain."

He hurried for the door. Maybe he'd get brave and send men in to kill her. She let him go, scooped a handful of gold coins into her patchwork bag, and pulled out something else in their stead.

A shredded, bent, threadbare, and much-abused gryphon feather.

Harrier stepped out onto the ship's deck, into view of the living crew and the undead cargo - the Eternum horde beginning to march aboard. She raised the feather to the sky.

Velaeri

 

[Magnan Smithson]

Magnasandree watched passively as the Eternum shuffled forward, moving slowly as they boarded the fleet of mercantile and ghost ships. Their encampment was quickly packed up, the useful materials loaded aboard the final ships and the less useful just left where they lay. Eilasandree found herself, not for the first time, musing at the efficiency of an undead army. Very little to actually feed, and sleeping wasn't a necessity. Magnan, on the other hand, watched to make sure none of the soldiers wheeling their heaviest resources were hurt, urging Eilasandree to allow more resources wherever he recommended.

Eventually, every member had boarded, and they set off. The trip was set to take a few days, as even when boosted by magic the straight between the mainland of Arethil and the Tundra was an expanse of some magnitude. In the meantime, the duo found themselves alternating between helping prepare for battle (such as managing to gather some blood vials from a few flesh crafters) and conversing with Amankh about the immediate actions to be taken upon storming the beach (Magnan) and establishing the chain of command amongst the living and dead members that had just joined the Eternum (Eilasandree). They were so close, the entire horde could practically taste it. The multicoloured sea of rotting flesh and magical lights seemed to teem with energy that wasn't usually attributed to the dead. After so long, their goal was almost upon them.

 

[TTamark]

Steve was tending to a whole bunch of different pots of stew, each one a conglomerate of various wildlife, be it flora, or fauna, that were editable in the area. As a new thing there were now some fish, Steve had never raised fish before. So he found himself having to run and toss the newly raised fish into the sea, or ask one of his helpers to do so. He had his own little crew of orcs who would bring back fuel for the fires, and who would stir the soup, or prepare the ingredients, and there were a bunch constantly running onto the ships to distribute the stew among all before the Eternum set off. Steve when he was not busy enchanting the stew or running the kitchen, he would quickly dictate to a crow he had raised, and named Edgar Allan Crow, what to write on notes for people to go with the stew. Most got generic, but genuine well wishes, but for others they were more personal.

To Amankh he said,
"I have seen how hard you are working, and just wanted to say good job, and I am proud of you. We really appreciate having you with us. Don't forget to also pursue your own goals along the way. I hope you can find happiness. I have made no money. Edgar wants to share poem I hope you don't mind: I am as poor now as I ever was in my life - except in hope, which is by no means bankable."

To Magasandree:
"magnan, Be strong i have seen few who can compare to you: in chivaLry and heart. I hope you Never lose those traits, nor you Kindness. iT takes more an insane amount of strength to stand up for What one belIves in. i Can not hElp, but look up to you because in you I Feel YOU carry aN Emotional strEngth few can match. Do wHat you think is right, Even if it Looks Problematic. Everyone is getting some poetry from Edgar, but even though I keep telling him it is not poetry just a quote if anything, he insists. anyway here is yours, "The scariest monsters are the ones that lurk within our souls..." I care and worry about you big guy.

Elisandree, you beautiful soul. I respect your drive, it is a rare thing see among many these days. If I were to describe you I would have to say you are a real go getter, always one to take the initiative. I honestly see a bit of myself in you. So I am willing to take you under my wing, pun intended. I sure that after a few years we can set you up as the regional manager over the Eternum. I really have high hopes for you. Somethings I think you could really work on are your communication skills, and remember positivity is infectious. You don't need to be afraid to ask questions or try working together with the team. I am sure you find that you can accomplish a lot more as a team than you ever could alone. Remember team work makes dream work. Your Edgar quote is: They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night." Don't sail this ship into its own doom Eilisandree.

To Lillian the dog:
"You are a dog, so I doubt you can read, but here is a bone, and just incase you can you are a very good dog!"

The stew Harrier would receive if she remained top deck would say, "Thank you for being part of the team, I appreciate all the help, I hope you can find some happiness with us. Your life is sacred! (There is no exquisite beauty... without some strangeness of the proportion)- Edgar Allan Crow"

 

[Amankh Kaltar]

The sound of rustling pages and ink spreading across parchment was rampant in Amankh's stateroom. The mummy sat at his desk, scrawling intricate designs into his notes before turning to a set of old scrolls, referencing them silently before returning to his own paper. Sand was idly swirling in the air around him, pulsing as though it shared his breath and heart beat. Occasionally, a chilling blue mist would appear in the cloud of dust before fading away. Once they made landfall, the ritual would be able to be fully completed and done. He had referenced a great many texts to calculate the precise materials needed, and a great amount of time had been spent in quiet meditation in the hopes of better attuning himself to Abtatu. In bookshelves laid dozens of scrolls and volumes detailing not only necromantic magic but also regarding the seemingly forgotten empire of the sands he hailed from. Frustratingly, it was all vague and mere fantasies, none of which contained any single fragment of it which was fact. Instead, it was mere tales, even more aged by time than he was. The Abtati themselves, it seemed, have forgotten their past, thrown it away even.

His time on the boat had been rather busy, what with the many preparations that had to be undergone before they made landfall. Many a late night had been spent with Magnasandree, discussing both of its half's ideas and adding his own. Work was being done on establishing a chain of command with Eilasandree, both among the inner circle and to lead the masses. He had offered suggestions on how to best coordinate the mages as well, utilizing the more knowledgeable ones as teachers along with the unexperienced who still showed great aptitude and understanding below them. Quickly, he asserted himself for the role of head archmage and advisor, a role that seemed to have been assigned to him albeit without direct name. "The position of Archmage is one I am equipped and experienced to handle. Those with some magical talent beyond the realms of necromancy may be within my influence and direction. There are already some among them who show greater talent then their peers, I believe a chain of command could be established easily among them."

With Magnan, they discussed at length their immediate plans upon reaching the Tundra's shores. While they had long-term goals, those being establish a formidable empire capable of holding its own territory and expansion, they were missing the short-term. Bringing some of the collected maps to the chamber and with the help of the navigators, he pinpointed where they were likely to land and the surrounding materials with which they could use. "The mages can help establish a temporary outpost without much need for construction while your forces search for a suitable permanent and defensible location. Though the map is old and vague, there do seem to be a few directions available." The map was placed on a center table, with figurines atop it to represent key players and locations, which they moved as they discussed. "I will need time to begin the ritual needed to shift my connection to the sands as well to better suit the area. I have already gathered the necessary design, we simply require the new environment so that I may be closer to Abtatu."

While he did not have as much to discuss with Steve, the spudmancer often saw the mages under his tutiledge coming down to the kitchens with a personal request for soup by the ancient mummy. It was done out of a desire to remain in his chambers with his work, yes, but there was also something... vulnerable about eating now. It brought him to a simpler time, perhaps, even one partially covered with sand and forgotten. It returned him to something that he was distinctly not anymore. It was an odd state, and one he preferred to occupy alone and away from judging eyes.

The rest of his time was spent tutoring the mages and guiding their learning. They showed promise, yes. He felt a special sense of pride as he looked upon the quick progress they had made in the beginning of their voyage, the prior embers and snowflakes turning to brilliant pillars of fire and ice. Those he saw that had more inherent ability were followed more closely than the others, as potential suitable mage commanders. One thing he noticed as he taught them was that they did seem a bit more loyal than the day to day footmen or workers of the Eternum. He supposed his more direct role with their learning and growth aided in them gaining a bit more loyalty to both him and the Eternum as a whole, even besides the inherent factor of being raised. He kept that notion in mind. Having a group of followers with personal loyalty to him could prove useful, depending on how their future turned out.

A sudden tapping came at his chamber window, a rapping, tapping sound. The mummy resisted the urge to look for a few moments as he continued to write out his notes, although the noise continued and continued regardless. With a sigh, Amankh glanced up, locking eyes with the undead avian messenger. He stood up, opening the latch so that the bird could enter, picking the letter at its beak. A dry laugh started to come out of the undead, sunken eyes reading the words. His own goals? When they lie miles below the sands, tossed and turned by the desert until only ruins surely remained? His own goals, when he cannot remember his old ones? The dry laugh continued as he set the letter down on the desk, looking back to the crow. With a hint of rising anger as he thought more on his lack of goals, he said, "Worry less about my own goals and more about your own. " He paused, letting out a sigh and saying, "Thank you."

He left his chambers upon uttering those words, venturing up to the deck. The busy nature of the voyage had made his days quite eventful and void of much rest and time for personal thought. He walked over to the edge of the boat, putting skeletal hands on the railings as he looked out over the sea. It was similar to the desert, in a way, shifting and turning constantly. He rested his eyes on the waves, watching them as his mind wandered, the bustling sounds of the Eternum behind them as their long voyage toward the Tundra continued.

 

[Loremongrel]

The fresh air was almost pleasant for the face of Zel'ur, a disgusting vision of macerated and falling meat. As an elf born on a mountain, the waves of the sea were more akin to a torture, which was twisting his withered bowels and making him throwing up a black substance.
Maybe that was his guts.

"Damn... sea." the words rattled with that strangled voice were the beginning of a lament that would have lasted for gods only know. "If it weren't for my stocks... my souls... I could've staied in my catacombs, to experiment and... study, but instead... "
Another retch made him puke outboard. For an undead it might seem strange, but at this point it could only be an unexpected effect of being a relatively fresh undead.
"At least there is this air. Ah, Endoss, thank you at least for this. My wounds thank you."

While enjoying the waves, Zel'ur heard someone arrive, and quickly put on his brass mask. Looking behind him, he glanced a figure, wrapped in bandages and a very old robe, from which crystals of ice continued to mutate form. Zel'ur wasn't yet very good at seeing someone's magical aura, but he felt that, whoever that figure could be, he was very powerful.
"How much life essence in such a decaying body." he whispered to himself. "If he wasn't a member of the crew ... if he was just a nobleman, or another wretched wizard ... oh, I could manage to recover centuries of beauty."

While his hunger for life essence made his livers boil, those same organs made him throw up that foul smelling black substance, too bad this time he had the mask on his face.
"Oh, wha... Ah, for damn sake!" he shouted angrily as he took off his drenched and oozing mask, then began to wrap himself in a strange black smoke while something purple glowed from the now fallen and open skin. "I hate this sea, I hate this ship!"
But before making a bad impression, Zel'ur took deep breaths, calming his nerves and retaking his composure again, and just in time.
"Look at this mess It will take me days to clean it, ah ... if only I had my ointments ..."

 

[Amankh Kaltar]

Amankh was torn from his thoughts by the sound of shouting, the mummy slowly turning his head to the source of the noise in curiosity. Standing atop the boat near the edge was a masked person, their undead nature becoming apparent quickly as they took the mask off, revealing decaying flesh. He watched them continue to shout without response, taking in the elaborate pantomime both out of curiosity and entertainment. The undead was unfamiliar to him, although that wasn't too surprising; there were hundreds of undead aboard this ship alone, and he was far too busy to meet all of them. Still, this one did seem different from the regular raised footmen and highway bandits or orcs that they had received along their march.

"I was unaware those of undead could suffer from seasickness," he said, the raspy voice sudden in its appearance. A moment passed where the mummy looked the undead over, clearly trying to place them but to no avail. "I do not believe we have met. Tell me, what is your name? How did you come upon the Eternum?" if they were not raised by the Eternum, then they had to have joined on their own volition. The reason for doing so varied greatly from individual to individual, with some doing so for protection from mortals to others wishing to gain more power, while some had different reasons entirely.

 

[Loremongrel]

The undead elf gasped as he heard that voice. Then, he stood up, still ashamed by all that situation.
"Eh, friend, I couldn't predict this too… I never traveled by boat, maybe is a echo of my mortality…" the rotting necromancer was trying to find an excuse for that, he liked feeling sick as much as falling into a pit of fire. "But now you mentioned that… no, we haven't met already. I must admit that I managed to get onto this vessel just in time, at the very last minute, had to fill this soul gem with enough life essence to sustain me. This pretty face doesn't regenerate by itself."

A smirk formed onto that face, a wide smile full of rotting teeth stiff as leather, as he pointed with one of his fingers covered by a metallic protection that visage of horror, marked by that eyed tattoo. The undead elf tried to appear as friendly as possible, he wasn't sure how that guy would've acted if he found that he was a clandestine in search of some nourishment, a leeching lich that only felt a voice in the air guiding his actions rather than a soldier or else.
By whatever god was watching upon them, he was more akin to a sellsword than an actual mage.

"But let me introduce myself: the name is Zel'ur, or Zel for short and friends. Expert in the art of life draining and shadow walking, scholar of the now ruined Acdaemy of Saamak, and adept of the Eyes of Endoss... at your humble service."

Words, words and other meaningless words and titles, followed only by a cracking bow. He knew that that wouldn't mean a lot, he was almost as a ghost to society, but he hoped that the curiosity of his ragged, iced interlocuter could help him take a position. A small, slightly elevated position.

 

[Amankh Kaltar]

"It will be a long journey, let us hope you have enough within the soul gem," he stated matter-of-factly. He did not return the smile, although that was more likely down to the fact that his skeletal jaw was devoid of lips to smile with. At the mention of being a late arrival, the mummy commented, "You are lucky to have made it in time, then."

Amankh nodded, a low hum of acknowledgement escaping his decrepit mouth as Zel'Ur listed off his titles. "Amankh Kaltar. Archmage of the Eternum, and the old Herald of the Sands of the lost Abtati Empire," he proclaimed proudly, tapping his staff against the wooden deck as though it were an exclamation, a wave of ice crystals shooting up the rod before evaporating into mist. Considering his decaying form and the Gilded jewelry which hung off of him, the age required for such a title seemed fitting. It was not often one could claim to have spent longer in a tomb than alive and be truthful.

"A scholar, you say? And one with arcane knowledge at that," he commented, his interest piqued at the mention of the title. "As archmage, I am responsible for all Eternum members who possess talent in the arcane. If you are as much of an expert as you say you are in those fields, we may see each other often. The Academy of Saamak and Eyes of Endoss are unfamiliar to me, tell me more of them." From the state of Zel'Ur, he was old, but younger than him. If that was the case, the academy and eyes were likely after the mummy's death and thus beyond his knowledge.

 

[TTamark]

"You are responsible for ALL Eternum members who posses talent in the arcane? Does that include me and Eillasadree? HAHA. You know, I hope so, I feel like we someone need to rein us in. We live in the forbidden, which is why it is so important to make sure people are restrained. We are all already criminals. We are thieves of life, but how do we differentiate those who stole for their families, and those who stole for themselves? Anyways please excuse my thinking aloud. If I didn't know any better I might make the mistake of thinking I just witnessed Amankh feeling proud.

Now who is this being that was worthy of witnessing Amankh in such a state, or do you show off to everyone on these ships? Hmm, might I suggest some potato stew, dear friend. Not only is my stew to die for, I hear potatoes are also great for ones... complexion, hehehe.

I came over because I had a matter to discuss with you Amankh, but meeting a new friend can always come first. Even if you make me jealous, seemingly showing more interest in his academic background than my own. So forgive my asking, but who are you, and what have you done that's so interesting to earn mister archmage himself's attention."

 

[Loremongrel]

That was clearly… unexpected. Last time Zel'ur saw an Archmage, it was the one of the Academy, but never he could immagine to meet with a elder one.
"You surprise me, kind friend. The honor to speak with you honor me two times more." again, he spoke as he bow. "But I'm afraid that the story of my home will disapoint you greatly. Saamak was a relatively reclused group of scholars and people interested in study the nature of magic, be it of darker or benefical nature. However, with time, from a small fortress of knowledge for few Saamak growed to become a small city, an Enclave of its own, where those born in it could easely access to any book and spell they wanted.

But with time, comes fear… I was born in the last days of the Academy, where the Scholars were merely testing and recycling known spells and dared not to try something less… let's say unorthodox."

Lies.
Zel'ur was using the ignorance of his home to create his own story, to spit onto what was once the Sacred Academi of Arcane Magic and Ancient Knowledge, but something was too much slitering, too hateful for been true. However, his nature helped him, finding the right words.

"Then, I was introduced to a more akin society underneath the Academy, willing to test and experiment. Yes, it was more of a sect, but I helped them finding a way to archieve higher knowledge, and getting in communion with…"

As he spoke, a Young man appeared almost from no where, interrupting his blattering words.
The man was kind, looking also like a good mage, but for the undead elf he was merely a competitor… and one who needed a better dress.
How could he dare interrupt his tales ?
Was he… was he mocking him ?
This man was really that good in making a potato stew ?
Zel'ur was trying to contain his disrespect and rudeness, even if his eyes could barely mask that, as his glowing skin.

"Oh, another mage, fantastic… yeah… well, I was just telling kind… uh, Amankh, a bit of myself !" Zel striked a noble pose, patting his chest, smiling. "No offense, but… did you said "thieves" ? Bah, such things are for apprentices or desperates." He knew he was a desparate apprentice, and stealing life was his greatest skill. "Anyway, are you the cook of this vessel ? Because I would really like to taste this stew of yours… maybe I can make you a favor too, Hmmm ?"

 

[Amankh Kaltar]

"To not wish to tread through the sands is to wish to fall beneath them," Amankh stated, the words an ancient Abtati proverb that still lingered in his memory. There was a slight sliver of disbelief which entered the mummy's mind as Zel'Ur regaled the story of his Academy, a doubt that all he had stated was perfectly factual and void of his own distortion. Still, it was the type of academic background Amankh was familiar with. "The Eternum is an innovation in and of itself, and as such, magic beyond the traditional boundaries of academies and colleges could prove to be useful."

A voice suddenly spoke out, immediately being recognized as coming from Steve. "Necromantic talents such as yourself and Eilasandree are not quite under my jurisdiction," he corrected simply, turning his gaze to the necromancer. Of course, he wouldn't be opposed to such a level of control, but for the time being he was content with managing the Eternum's mages. "Those who would prefer to steal for themselves rather than family tend to reveal themselves as the weak link in due time. They can be properly dealt with then, although once suitable people are placed into leading them, I expect their behavior to change," he mused. The chain of command they were establishing would do well to prevent such selfish behavior from going on unnoticed for too long, so long as they choose the current people to put in such positions of power.

There was a strange look from the ancient mummy as Steven mentioned his shown pride. "If one cannot carry pride in their past and in their home, then they cannot carry pride at all." It was not a pride expressed loudly or aggressively, perhaps, but he held a great pride in the old Empire of the Sands and his place within it. The fact he was the only one alive to tell its tale only bolstered it. "And I was not aware you had an academic background," he stated, largely having assumed Steve was a farmer before he was a necromancer-farmer.

At the mention of stew, he nodded, a testament to their taste. "If you could please prepare another serving to deliver to my quarters, I would appreciate it," he added as a sidenote. "They are not quite the food I would typically dine on in life, it is an impressive dish, especially when considering the many... limitations," he said, gesturing to his ribcage, which was characteristically void of any stomach or digestive system.

 

[TTamark]

"Oh Amankh, I do believe you underestimate the strength ones greed can be. You can accomplish great, and terrible things for, or with greed. I hope you are right though...

In response to your pride: forgive me if I offended you Amankh, I merely was saying that it was a side of you I have rarely seen. Maybe I had only seen from you the sorrow of its loss and not the pride of what had been. Maybe we do not know each other as well as we should. When you get the chance to discuss my matter maybe we can talk on more than just business, but that is for later... later. For now I believe we are learning about this strapping fellow...

Alright, first let me get you some food before we go any further."

Steve clicked his tongue three times, and soon three skeletal chickens came waltzing over, each with a bowl of the stew. Steve bent down, petted them all before taking his and continuing, speaking around each bite, continuing to bend down and care for his chickens, even giving them some bites as well.

"So my friend let me begin by explaining something to you: you are surrounded by thieves, and desperates, because everyone is both of these. Life is desperate for life, otherwise it would simply cease. And the laws of magic forbid us to be anything other than thieves. You seem to be undead, so let me put it this way, by what magic did that happen? The process requires energy to do, it requires energy to maintain. So the energy had to come from somewhere. Some day that energy will be spent and you will require more to sustain yourself, just like a living body requires eating food to maintain energy within itself. It was off the basics of this theory that I... well, pretty much do anything. I suspect life to just be a complicated magic, one that allows using food to act as energy to maintain the spell. In that regard I suspect there is little difference between ones birth into life, and being raised again into undeath. So I decided what if I create edible life so potent that it fills the undead with life itself again. So potent that it can heal, and sustain their bindings, not through necrotic or holy magic, but simply through pure magic energy. So in short, yeah I guess you could call me a cook, but Grom Longbottoms is the official cook of this vessel.

My role is... uh... um... h-head... archfarmer??? I don't know I mostly just make sure Eilasandree doesn't get to be unnecessarily evil and ruin everything. You know, Make sure it is place where people can live, and not a place that people want to destroy. Which I am sure you can understand is not very easy with some of the people here, not naming any names though if I were it might start with an E, and end with asandree."

 

[Loremongrel]

"I know the rules of magic, you…" Zel'ur's reaction was anything but calm and composed. As he screamed those words, the gems attached on his mask brightened of a crimson light, as his eyes glowed purple. Then, he grunted, and used a simple spell to dry out that black, foul smelling substance from his mask, but as he did that, something… happened.
His skin stiffed and rotted more, exposing his teeth and letting some skin fell, before hiding it behind that graceful mask.

"I know too well what this powers, what… this energies are doing to me. I had to sacrifice a lot, and at this point of my life… or unlife… I'm reduced to a starving husk for souls. And for your question…" The undead elf took his soulgems out of the mask showing them to the Archfarmer. "... the magic that keeps me alive is almost unknown to myself, but know this: it was thanks to my Brothers and sisters that I'm here. I don't know how it happened, but I became… this… after my-"

Zel'ur gulped, before taking the gems back on the mask.

"Our plans were done, as well as their sacrifice. And before you start to speak again with that tell of "stealing life", I don't want to be compared to a lowly thief… a scum of society… I'm not. " The elf was showing his true face even behind that mask: a veil of pride and fear could be perceived in his voice, as his eyes expressed rage and disdain for that simple mage.
As he repeated that he wasn't a mere thief, he walked toward the stars for the lower decks, letting the two behind; his stomach was quiet alive for an undead. "Now, I hope that stew is as good as you described it… I'm starving."

Every step down that stair was full of thoughts, obsessions and paranoias that tormented his life since the day he trapped and slowly consumed his companions with that lowly trick.
"I will never die…" thought to himself. "I will never turn to...dust… I will find a way to… beat Death itself. The laws of magic… I broke so much laws in this centuries, I don't want to belive that those laws are any different… I'll show them… I'll show them, somehow..."

 

[TTamark]

Amankh Kaltar

Steve watched as Zel'ur descended the stairs out of sight.

"I am worried for that lad. I fear that he is tormented by his past. The defensive way he reacted to the rules of magic, and them being compared to stealing... I know I jokes about you showing your pride, but I fear that his might become his downfall if he is using it like a crutch as I suspect. Amankh I am well aware you are a busy man, but I would appreciate it if you could keep an eye on the lad. It is always a sad waste to see one get consumed by darkness, especially if it could have been avoided.

Anyways speaking of guidance, that is the reason I sought you out. As you are now aware I was educated at The College of Elbion, the greatest magic school in all of Arethil. They have one large problem though: they forbid certain magics, as though the field of magic itself is evil, not the user. So what I would like to talk to you about is creating a new school, The College of Eternum, where all learnings are welcome. It will provide a good chance for us to help guide those who are learning magic on a good path from the start. It will also help bring people into the Eternum, show them that we only wish to help the world. Education is extremely important, in my opinion because it shows we are focus on improving people, teaching them important things for them to be able to live in the world. Maybe most important, it shows that we are not afraid. And I want your help to create this dream mummy boi."

 

[Amankh Kaltar]

Amankh would have raised his eyebrow if he had one, a subtle look of curiosity and confusion apparent as Zel'Ur left their vision and returned deeper into the boat. That was all rather sudden, he had to admit. He nodded, still looking at the stairs the undead had descended in thought.

"We were all raised by different means. They all have a price, and some require their payments more frequently than others. Let us hope he is not late with them, for his sake." He turned his gaze back to the necromancer, continuing, "I will, it would do us no benefit to have a dead talented spellcaster after all."

The mummy listened intently to what Steve proposed, interest entering his admittedly rather emotionless skeletal visage. "An academy, you propose." A moment of silence passed as the ancient mage mulled it over. "The idea holds promise. My pupils would require a place of study and research to accelerate their learning, and I could do well with such a place as a way to house knowledge of arcane matters as well. I will bring it forward with Magnasandree, building such a facility would certainly have its benefits," he said, making a mental note of it.

"As for your claims about it making us seem more... diplomatic with the rest of the world, I see what you mean. However, we may attract those who were denied by the college and unafraid of those who come from the grave, but the wider people would stay as far away as they would if this academy wasn't present. Still, it holds value. So long as you refrain from uttering the words 'mummy boy' in my presence, I would be willing to aid the construction of such a place when we arrive."