Open Chronicles Undeath Finds Its Resting Place

[Amankh Kaltar]

The Eternum reared to life in the months that passed since the day they first stepped on the Eretejva Tundra, the promise of sanctuary within its snow-touched shores providing a constant motivation. When the scouts had brought their findings back to the camp, a wave of euphoria rapidly spread among the Eternals as the leaders revealed the site of their city.

They had at long last found their sanctuary, and so, that was what they named it. Sanctuary, the Eternal City.

~-~​

Amankh walked through the Great Hall, the sound of footsteps echoing throughout the large room of stone. The citadel was the first building of Sanctuary that was constructed, the culmination of dozens of undead's labor and effort. Pillars stretched upward, holding up the ceiling as rays of light from grand windows bathed the hall. Grand thrones encompassed one end, a founder belonging to every seat. Hanging from the ceiling and walls were large banners, each adorned with the sigil of the Eternum.

As the Archmage's eyes, dark sockets filled with a small ember of magic, gazed around the room, pride swelled within him. The sight brought him back to older days; when his skin was soft and warm, when sand covered the ground instead of snow and ice. Though that time was millenia ago, it still surged back to the forefront of his memory as his eyes wandered the architecture. A sigh left him as his recollection was pushed back, his pace once more continuing onward towards the large doors that served as the hall's entrance.

Two undead flanked the doors, spears blocking the entrance. Their armor was iron and steel, ice jutting off of it as though it were an extra layer. Upon the approach of the mummy, the spears immediately raised. The doors opened, revealing a city expanding before it. Steps descended from the citadel, leading down the steep mountainside and into the main city. Even from their height, crowds of Eternals could be seen moving throughout the city. Beasts of labor ambled on the streets, sacks of building material on their backs as they moved without guidance towards construction sites. Nearest to the citadel were the training fields, rows upon rows of training dummies making them up. There, soldiers could be seen at work, honing their skills in case of attack. The Nords and Nordenfiir of the Tundra were quiet in response to their arrival. Whether that meant they were planning an invasion or were still deciding was unknown, but it was not a chance they could take.

In sight of the citadel was a large building as of yet uncompleted, made up of towers and halls. A college. It was something Amankh had been pushing for ever since the city was first proposed: a place to reinforce and teach magic, without the rules and restrictions customary to the one located in Elbion. After all, he had argued, necromancy was responsible for the beginning of the Eternum, it should be passed on. Amankh was put in charge of the management of their arcane Eternals, but he did seek the counsel of Albedo and Steve throughout the process of its planning.

Amankh stepped down from the Citadel, making his way through the various buildings, each in varying levels of completeness. Some were homes, others smiths, and a few as of yet undecided. The mummy moved towards the wall, ascending through one of the towers. As he stepped out from the tower and onto the wall walk, he saw Eternal archers and mages simply watching the horizon, guards for the city. His gaze wandered over to the wide expanse of snow that lied beyond the walls, slowly turning to sea as he looked farther off. Along the coast was a port, a road paving the way to Sanctuary. Closest to the city was an array of farms, an odd sight in the frigid tundra. Potatoes grew in the fields, unscathed by the cold that bombarded them as they were tended to by various Eternals.

Amankh let a moment pass, his eyes overlooking the city and its borders. At long last, the Eternum had a resting place.

 

[Beatrix Germaine]

It was a city of the dead, for the dead, by the dead. A sanctuary of a city that bore the name, as if simply dubbing the city 'Sanctuary' was enough to protect the place and grant it importance. For Beatrix and the crew of the Jolli Rouge, all that mattered was the place had a dock, supplies, and catered to vampires.


"Get it loaded!" she bawled over the hustle and bustle of working sailors. Beatrix hated being out and about during daylight hours, half because it made her feel sick and weak, half because the crew moaned and groaned about the same thing. "Shirk and see half rations for a week!"


The vampire scowled at her crew before crossing the narrow plank to the dock itself. She tossed a few coins to the dock master, a ghoul from the looks of it, and made her way towards the warehouses ahead. The basic supplies for the ship were done, all that was left was supplies for the crew and perhaps a little something for herself in the process.

 

[Sathirena]

Weeks were spent hauling rocks for the mountains down to the undead masses to chisel into blocks and pillars. One by one, carved into hefty blocks of stone, each a new piece in the citadel while the rubble was converted into mortar or bricks for homes. Still, many heavy blocks remained to be touched by a chisel and hammer.

Now the dragon flew high above the construction site where she could see far and wide.
Sathirena's visage has drastically deteriorated. Parts of her forebody had turned to clean-picked bone and the skin withered against weakened muscle, while the wings have been stitched together by hand.

Noticing a fleet appearing, the mighty beast descended slowly and landed somewhere near the warehouse, if not outright before it.

 

[Beatrix Germaine]

It wasn't the first time Beatrix had a dragon plop itself down in front of her, nor would it be the last, but at least each other time the dragon had been alive. The thing that now blocked her access and almost sent her hat flying was clearly dead. Or undead. Or a golem. She wasn't quite sure, but the pirate was definitely certain it was blocking her path and almost no one noticed the rotting behemoth in front of her, which wasn't saying much, she realized, since most of those around were undead and mostly mindless.


She kept one hand on her cutlass and the other on the miniature springald on her hip while she sized the dragon, or ex-dragon, up.


"Ya need ta move, beastie," she called up after a moment or two of silence. "Yore between me an' a month's supply of rum an' I'm losin' daylight."

Sathirena

 

[Sathirena]

Sathirena tilted her massive head. »Watch your step« She lifted one frosted leg foreleg to make a path. Her voice was deep and gruelling. But her head would never quite leave gazing at the Vampiress though. Perhaps it was quite ominous at how the large head trailed a path towards her.