Open Chronicles Worn Soles

[Abjurer]

Thump. The butt of a hardwood stave drove itself into the barren, wintry ground of the Eretejva Tundra. A pair of boots came next, wearily stomping into the ground. Thud.

How does one greet a dead man? Do you compliment their health? Seems a bit risky, but perhaps it could be taken as a compliment towards their necromantic prowess? Their appearance is under their direct control...

Thump thud. The boots and the stave continued their off-beat rhythm across the frost scoured plain, joined by the soft rustle of blue-green cloth as the wind picked up and tugged at the cloak - robes? - of the traveller.

No, no, too risky. It would be much better to stick to the stick to the standards. 'Oh, how has your day been? Oh, mine has been fine, same old same old, y'know how't goes. Is that a new table leg I see? I say, it looks wonderful, hardly any leakage!'.

He paused mid-step to snort, shaking his head slightly. A mistake. Upset by the sudden movement the veritable shelf of snow that had accumulated along his wide-brimmed (and conical!) hat rained down on the poor fellow beneath. Thankfully a large and bushy white (now whiter) beard stopped the snow from infiltrating his neckline, but the rest of him was not so lucky.

Thump thud. The traveller reached with his free hand up to adjust his now-crooked hat and shake some of the snow off of his outer layer of cloaks and robes.

Curses. That was what he got, he supposed, for being flippant. Still, perhaps there was something to the idea of going in to the situation with a bit of shock-and-awe. The undead would know nothing about him, did know nothing about him. He was certain about that; after all, he was scarcely known outside of Elbion and little known even within it. Perhaps if, stars forbid, a member of the College had both taken up with the Eternum and beaten him to them they might know of him. But surely that was an impossibility? At the very least he was sure. In any case with his capabilities and motivations uncertain or unknown, he had the advantage when it came to bluffing. And he was sure he could press it for all it was worth.

Thump thud. The traveller's thoughts carried him through the tundra, through the wind and the snow and the frost, and as he walked a plan took shape in his mind.

Image. That's what would be important here. He had to look the part he was going to play. Only, what part was he going to play? Hm. Shock-and-awe had already been decided but that was more an aura, an attitude, than a role in and of itself. It would depend on who he needed to interact with. Best to keep the image general and flexible, then...

In the distance the gates of the Eternal City loomed large and Ambroz Baros smiled, blue-grey robes flapping in the wind, hardwood stave in one hand, smoking pipe in the other, a wide-brimmed hat on his brow, and a bushy white beard on his chin. Yep, he certainly looked like a wizard. Now it was time to pull off some magic. It wasn't every day that one got to convince a cabal of necromancers to give up their secrets, after all.

Thump thud.

 

[TTamark]

Suddenly from a distance the sound of cow bells could be heard ringing as they drew nearer. Accompanying the ringing was also the sound of a man laughing openly and freely. Eventually, form the snow, a shape came into view. It was a flying sleigh being pulled by undead cows that had massive wings attached to them. While the cows flew by flapping their wings, they also moved their feet as though they were trying to mosey on forwards. Also the sleigh was just hanging sideways behind, which caused the pair of cows in the back to basically just be flapping furiously basically having to support the sleigh all by themselves to keep them all from falling. Hanging with his arms onto the bottom of the sleigh with his feet dangling was a man plastered in snow, from which the sounds of merriment originated.

"HOHOHOHO, down Axen, down Vomet, down Basher, and Lancer. Land Blitzing, land Putrid, Danger, and Cancer, Get the Fr*ck out the sky Rancor!"

With that the man fell into snow quite chilly. There was a large chance this man was quite silly. Then out he popped all covered in white, perhaps almost as much as he was covered in delight. With a laugh and a skip he closed the distance,

"Hello there friend can I be of assistance? What is mine is yours, I welcome all. That is of course unless you are made of fire and 8 feet tall. Mind you even then I could make an exception, and still forgive that man and give him a warm reception. HAHA would you look at me I'm a poet!"

Well at least until he'd blow it. The cows came on over as they had landed, a lot smoother landing then this odd man did. Suddenly the mans face became one of he who might cower,

"Oh dear let me get you a flower. He are obviously quite cold, don't you worry."

He dug in his satchel in a large hurry.

"This will help, keep it close and it will keep you quite warm."

Even from a distance the gentle heat made it through the snow storm. On the sleigh was a large pot full as could be, well as full as one would after the that flight you would see. In it was stew filled with the spud. One whiff and you could tell it was far from a dud. Offering a bowl Steve said:

"Go ahead, don't hesitate to try for, take it from me, this stew is to DIE for. HEHEHE. I'm Steve by the way."

Steve said with a smile. Within it he showed nothing that one'd even considered as vile.

 

[Abjurer]

Well that was quite a din,
but he could bear it with a grin.
Mayhaps some gin.

The bowl he looked in
and found warm soup within
fit to be served in the finest inn.

"Thank you for I am quite thin,
and I did not bring a buck-skin,
to warm my own skin."

The man took the bowl in his hands
and planned what to do sans
his carefully laid plans.

He had thought with his bluff
he could overcome sure enough
but this would be rough.

For quick talk and empty shocks
do not rock those blocks
crazy as cuckoo clocks.

But maybe rhymes
three times in three lines
can preserve the designs.

"So Steve,
do you believe,
my curiosity you could relieve?"

Ambroz seemed like he was about to continue but broke into a fit of coughing, his bowl of soup sloshing dangerously. Oh, wait, no, that was laughter. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I can't keep a straight face saying that stuff." The man's fit of laughter continued for a few more moments, to the point where he had to dab a few tears from his eyes. Still he eventually managed to right himself and began speaking once more. "Pipesmoke, I felt like an idiot saying all that. How do you poets do it?"

Ambroz paused for a second, seemingly realizing that he had just insulted the poetic profession after Steve had professed to be one. Even if he was pretty sure that Steve had said that in jest.

"In any case," he said quickly, "I'm Ambroz. Absolute pleasure to meet you Steve, blessings on you and your-" Ambroz eyed the conspicuously undead, winged cows that were nearby. "-cows and your house, et cetera, the usual. Thank you for the soup too, of course, pretty sure I worked that into the poetry somewhere but I'm going to be honest with you I'm repressing those six lines from my memory. I do know I mentioned having a question, though, and since you seem like a solid man I'll get right down to the bare bones here: I was wondering if the Eternum would be willing to do some consulting work on a project of mine. I assume you are with them, yes? Be mighty embarrassin' if I trekked all the way out to the wrong city."

 

[TTamark]

Steve loved this jolly fellow, and laughed along and openly with him.

"HAHAHA, Well let me give you a tip from one who obviously has spent years refining his speech craft: Just own it. You are fabulous, and should never be ashamed to be having fun. Nice to meet you to I Am Bros, honour be on you face and your hat. I will be honest with you I think we both should have more than two rymes before we call what we just did poetry, HEEHEE. But yeah, I am with the Eternum, the founding member even, I would have been very surprised if you had found another undead city almost anywhere in Arethil, much less up here. As for your consulting I think we can both agree it would be better to talk of such things inside. Come, hop upon my sleigh, I promise we travel by land this time."

Steve hopped upon his sleigh, and threw his hand back towards Ambroz.

"Do you trust me...

Anyways I am so glad you have a good sense of humour, it may be the whole dark magic thing, but I swear most people have forgotten how to not take everything so seriously. I mean if you are blessed with great power why does that suddenly mean to so many that you can not be happy, and have a good time? I mean I refuse to believe everyone was a stick in the mud before they learned to be badasses. I mean dark and sulking isn't a character trait. I mean I get that with great power comes great responsibility, that is a normal reaction to great abilities, but I mean have some fun, why save the world, but make it a dark and dreary place in the process. I mean I swear pyromancers they can create such beautiful abilities, but they are all, 'All I do is destroy, everything I touch turns to ash!' Why do they not focus on fr*cking launching themselves with a sick ass fire trail? Do you have any idea how much I would love to just stick my hands behind myself and fly?

So this is going to be a bit of a trip yet, tell me about yourself! You are obviously a wizard, what kind? Did you also train at Elbion? You ever get banned for two years trying to save someone's life? You ever realized that yeah drawing magic from oneself is dope, but have you ever considered walking around with buttloads of magic batteries because, well duh? HAHA"

 

[Abjurer]

"You're speakin' the truth my newly-found friend," Ambroz said jovially even as he took Steve's outstretched hand, having shifted the soup bowl to his staff-hand, "Though you'd be surprised at how many undead cities there are out there. I mean they're supposed to be rare, what with necromancy being one of the darkest blackest most dangerous forbidden highly illegal mistrusted prosecuted schools of magic out there. There seems to be necromancers around every corner. Now, now, that's not necessarily a bad thing, obviously most of those adjectives are just trumped up clutter but still the bad publicity's got to be bad for getting people into the business."

As he talked Ambroz somehow hoisted himself up onto the sleigh (he was hoisted up if we're being honest; the study of magic is incredibly rewarding, just not in the department of physicality) with Steve's help, which more or less answered the other man's question about trust.

Of course before he took Steve's hand Ambroz had quietly activated one of several wardstones he had secreted within his clothing which generated a discreet, low grade ward on his person. Nothing special, just standard mental protections and a form-fitting layer of force that sat beneath his clothing, meant to blunt any physical attacks. Steve almost certainly could, would, sense the wards if he had any sort of external magic sense at all, but that was fine. As they say, trust a dragon but let someone else stand in front of the maw; he was just being prudent.

"If'n you're askin' me," Ambroz said after Steve finished speaking, "I think the whole 'too-serious' issue stems from the realist trend in storytelling. For whatever reason people seem to think that only stories for children can be whimsical. Ridiculous, really, but that's how it goes. I suppose it's a way for the individual to reassure themselves of their maturity and grit, though I personally don't see how reading or listening to depressing tales does that. In any case, the real world copies the narrative world, which makes sense when you think about it. The narrative world is written by those in the real world, so it's influenced by it. In turn the denizens of the real world study the denizens of the fictional each time they absorb a story, so it's not a surprise that those denizens are viewed by role models as some.

From there the behaviors of those influenced, especially if they're influential people themselves, gets carried by popular momentum throughout society. After all if one kid grows up hearing stories where those in power act all angsty and conflicted and then goes into power himself he's going to be angsty and conflicted when he gains power himself. By dint of having power odds are he'll be historically notable for some reason or another, and thus'll add precedent and weight to the angsty attitude. Repeat enough times and pretty soon you've got what we've got."

Ambroz paused at this point, taking the break in his verbal stream of conscious to take in and appreciate Steve's sleigh as it slowly carried the two of them on to the Eternal City in the distance. Yep, it really was a sleigh. Nice wood. The undead cows were amazing, of course, he was more than a little curious where Steve got the wings, but that was a question for later. He still had to narrate his backstory!

Instead Ambroz chose to appreciate the surrounding tundra next, idly setting down the soup bowl that he had emptied at some point so he could rub his throat as he watched the landscape go by. He could even start to make out what must be small groups of undead patrolmen or workmen as they got closer to the city.

After a small amount of time Ambroz started speaking again. " 'Pologies about the pause. Promise I didn't forget your questions; much as I love the tundra the cold isn't exactly the kindest on me. Anyways, I'm sorry to say but I don't have much of an interesting history to narrate to you. Elbion native, went to the College for Abjuration, with a focus in wards. I've dabbled in a little bit of everything since then, no reason not to really, but those are the two things I've got on my First Order certificate. Can't say I ever got banned, but there were certainly a few run-ins! Would you believe that people wouldn't believe me when I said it was a practical exercise in counter-warding to steal all the doors in the men's dorms? Ha!"

The undead city continued to loom larger and larger in the distance as the sleigh approached. It was hard to judge, but it looked like there was an even bigger amount of undead around the city than he had previously thought. A fact which Ambroz saw in an new light, considering Steve's comment about using the undead as portable mana batteries. That would be a nasty little factoid for anyone planning ill towards the city.

"Y'know, though, I always wondered if necromancers could use undead as portable mana batteries. The First Law can be kind of finicky when it comes to having others picking up the tab, and I've never been able to get anyone to confirm one way or the other if raised souls ran afoul of that fussiness. I suppose this explains why people are continually drawn to necromancy.

But enough about me talking about me. What's your story, Steve, if you don't mind me asking? You're clearly not magically disinclined yourself. And, if your comment is anything to go off of, you seem to have a history with Elbion to boot."

 

[TTamark]

"HAHA, You are too kind to call some of those settlements cities, there are many forces actively working to make sure of that. Still I hope that one day Sanctuary, The Eternal city will be on the world maps a permanent and unignorable landmark."

Steve ignored Ambroz's wards, only acknowledging them with a small roll of his eyes. Steve instead focused on listening intently to his words on edginess, he really brought some interesting thoughts on this matter. It is always good to hear a fresh perspective.

"Huh, an interesting theory, though I would have expected a greater backlash from those who would be troubled from the sternness expected of them. Unless of course sternness isn't really a character trait as I had thought and rather is something learned, but to what end. There should still be those who would not enjoy it, but from my sample sizes the number who do does fit the expected outcome a fair bit better. That and it fits me better as an outlier as I never did learn to read till my second year at The College of Elbion. You might be on to something. Still I was always more interested in a cure, HAHA."

Elbion native, went to the College for Abjuration, with a focus in wards. I've dabbled in a little bit of everything since then, no reason not to really, but those are the two things I've got on my First Order certificate. Can't say I ever got banned, but there were certainly a few run-ins! Would you believe that people wouldn't believe me when I said it was a practical exercise in counter-warding to steal all the doors in the men's dorms? Ha!"

Steve through his head back in laughter once more,

"Oh, you scamp, you. But I wasn't much better I snuck a potato onto the profs chair, When they sat down it was supposed to let out a flatuatory sound as well as an unpleasant smell. I did not realize that I had overdone the smell part. So this all cumulated in the first two rows kind of passing out, and an investigation into a potential attack against the school. Guess how many people were suspects when the weapon was a potato... one! HAHAHAHA. Still the real trouble happened just recently when I brought a girl back to the city trying to get her the proper magical medical care. Care she only required because she had not provided critical info that threw off a spell I had cast already fifty times that day. Also I think I was also in trouble for giving medical care to a rat, but that part was kind of vague.

Returning back to your words, I have a deep respect for Abjuration. It is one thing to be able to help those who have been injured, but to be able to protect someone from harm is truly something to admire."

Steve looked at Ambroz with horror when he mentioned using undead as mana batteries. Steve quickly calmed down however. Letting out a sigh of relief and a few light chuckles.

"HAHA, Sorry I... So uh, there are many ways to do undead, yes it is possible to infuse ones own mana into an undead puppet, and it is also possible to drain an undead's soul energy, but... I at least find that sort of thing to be completely morally reprehensible. I mean there is the odd time one will be willing to allow their body to be used as a puppet after death, but I never use them long since I am sure their families would want their body back as soon as possible, and there are just better things to use as puppets if need be. As for draining one's very soul... *Sigh* That is basically killing them. Souls are limited, and to do that is basically stealing their life from them. No when I talked of mana batteries I was talking about these."

Steve lifted his robes to show that he was absolutely covered in potatoes.

"And the stew you drank, you didn't think it being able to feed your very soul, and heal your sorry ass was just from my skilled cooking. It is from me pouring life energy into it, I find nothing tastes better than life itself, even if it can be a touch bitter. Add some potatoes and a touch of meat... oh there is no other taste nearly as good.

Uh real quick, you said you were looking for some consulting help. Is this of a political nature, a academic one, or maybe more of a free fold one. Let me word this differently: Do you want to have this talk in the city hall, the college, or at the job posting board?...

As for my story in Elbion the short of it is I was just a weird farm kid who obviously didn't belong only there because my village had piled up the necessary money to teach me and they wanted to make sure I was a Elbion wizard and not a dreadlord. So at sixteen I began training being the weird kid using potatoes with a chicken familiar for roughly twelve years. Then Leroy died... That night... I don't really know, but somehow I had wished him back to life, but he was just bones and didn't remember his life, but it was still him. I knew then my time there had come to a close. Besides the earlier incident that pretty much was it. Ah, here we are!"

 

[Abjurer]

"Well I'd say you're making headway towards unforgettable if nothing else," Ambroz said, gesturing at the growing city yet in the distance. "I certainly won't be forgettin' it, that's for sure."

He leaned back in his seat in the sleigh, stave cradled in the nook of one arm while he rested his head on the other, alternating between looking at Steve and the scenery. Really, Eretejva was beautiful once you had a warm meal in your stomach and got your boots off the ground.

"I'm glad you find my theory interesting! I've been working on expanding it, actually, to encompass a wider selection of phenomena. More specifically, relationships! Not the steamy sort; the social sort. I've been noticing more and more as I grow older that people tend to fall into familiar narrative archetypes, usually a 'The Noun' coupled with one or more adjectives tacked on to differentiate them from the, well, archetypal form of their archetype. Similarly, the interactions of these archetyped folk follow and obey narrative tropes. Perhaps I'm falling victim to a spot of confirmation bias, but I'm not so sure. I'd love to talk more with you about the subject at some point; somewhat understandably people tend to think it's a crazy theory so it can be hard to get good peer review.

But enough about me talking about all things me, lets get back to you. I've to say, I'm honored to finally meet the famed potato person who made Professor Windhaufen blow his top, literally 'n figuratively. One of my greatest regrets to this day is that I was out of Elbion when that happened. Man was always a bit self-important and a little starch-deficient.

Though I am sorry to hear you got in trouble for givin' medical care. I tell you the state of the College just isn't what it used to be back in my day."

He might've spoken too soon about the effects of a hot meal in his stomach. It had helped at first, but if anything the frigid air had grown sharper now that they were moving at an appreciable speed. Those darn undead cows. Too industrious for his own good. They should slow down and appreciate the... Well, the roses were dead and non-existant this far up north, but they should slow down and appreciate the something! Ambroz pulled his hands into his thankfully fur-lined sleeves, disguising the motion as him leaning forward to focus wholly on Steve. No need to make his host feel bad. Cold air and a stick-like constitution just didn't mix, no matter how much soup was added.

As a rather unintended benefit of this well-meant deception, Ambroz caught Steve's momentary horrified look at his mention of using undead souls as mana batteries. Of course moments later the man admitted to despising the idea, but it was easy to say things; harder to fake an initial reaction especially when the swing in topic was wide. The man's evident morality put the last of Ambroz's lingering doubts at ease. This was still a dangerous trip, but at least while he was with Steve he wouldn't have to worry about soul mutilation. What would happen once they reached the city was still up in the air, however.

"I've'ta confess, I'm relieved that you consider the idea of draining souls immoral. Like I was sayin' earlier, most of the bad reputation that necromancy's picked up over the years is trumped up in my opinion, but there's always a bit of truth among the detritus. That said, the idea of using potatoes as a magical battery is fascinating! I knew some of the Alterationists back at the College were experimenting with generating a wordly force using potatoes and lemons, but I didn't imagine that they could also be used for magical generation!

...Unless, I suppose, you use them as a kind of refinery for processing the nature-intent essence that permeates most of the land, they'd be suited for it by being predisposed to natural essences, but how would you preserve the requisite runic workings? Obviously you carve them onto the food-stuff, but natural decay would ruin them within a matter of weeks. Unless you added preservation ward? You could do that, even tie them into the stored and refined essence within the item. But even so you'd still need some kind of hardening ward to prevent the food-stuff from being damaged and releasing the stored energy explosively, unless you also had some kind of run-off to channel the energy in case of failure but then you'd need multiple redundancies in case those were damaged too and now you're starting to limit the effectiveness the generator with all the additional workings..."

Ambroz trailed off into a low but-still-animated mutter, risking a hand out in the cold to rub at his bushy white beard while he thought on the practicalities of a potato battery. Wizards, am I right? In any case Steve had continued talking at some point, a fact which Ambroz eventually realized.

"Um, sorry about that. Anyways, life essence, eh? And here I thought you were just that good of a cook," he said. "But no it's good you mentioned nurturing souls. To answer your question I'm here for some academic consultation on a few bits of soul magic pertinent to my work."

He was about to respond to Steve about his past, too, but before he even knew it they were at the gates of the Eternal City, the (soon-to-be, he was sure) fabled Sanctuary of undead and necromancers of all walks of unlife. If he hadn't just spent the last while conversing with the refreshingly un-self-important Steve he might've even be able to do the place justice with a fittingly sweeping and grandiose description. As it was all he could think of was: Thank the stars we're going to be inside soon. Hopefully undead have fireplaces.

 

[Albedo]

Albedo stood upon the ramparts of the city, checking with her latest run in experiments that the skeletons among them had agreed to. It wasn't anything that destroyed their body, but rather kept their body from being destroyed permanently.

Stones that harvested power from death. Something that had stuck itself deep into her memories of a life that another had lived. Something that someone before her had made only in prototype, rather than in the numerous quantities as Albedo had. Refined the stone past it's limitations.

Fighting would exhaust them in any standard manner, the stone did enhance their ability to fight. But as they fought and killed the enemy, the stone would rip the soul from the enemies body. It would reanimate any of the skeletons that had these stones embedded into their bones. The souls were collectively shared rather than kept in the singular stone that Edmund had made in his past.

They also didn't have such a limited range of draw as the other one did, it needing to have visual sigh of the soul while these just had to be on the same horizon.

She was quietly asking one archer and a swordsman how they were feeling after having the stones inserted when she caught sight of the sled that Steve had taken off in the other day. It seemed though that he had a guest with him, as she spied the thing coming closer.

She nodded to the pair of skeletons, having them report later as she took the stairs down to the gate, her red hair poking through the cloak she wore over her clothes. It wasn't like she could actually be harmed by the cold anymore, but keeping her physical body for as long as possible was something that she hoped to achieve.

She was still rather fond of her human body.

She would greet the pair upon coming into the gates, the skeleton guards knowing Steve well, while keeping a metaphorical eye on their guest. It wasn't a concern of him being alive so much as him being new. Albedo waved to Steve with a small smile, her tired features somewhat lessened by the building of the new place to study.

She had been recuperating, not so hung up on trying to replicate things from Edmund's memories since all of the bodies involved with it where ones she was asking to help with her experiments. It was pleasant, and her inner cat thanks to the infused bones of Rigor the familiar had made her sunbathe while napping.

Delighting both her and Rigor as he spoke in her mind.

"A guest, a guest, oh who'd of guessed?" Rigor chanted in her mind.

"Steve, we have a new face I see, mind introducing before we go into the city?" Albedo spoke softly, wearing a smile as she looked at the old wizard. It was always hard to tell intent by outfit, and less so by looks when magic was concerned.

 

[TTamark]

Steve laughed at Ambroz's starch-deficiency quip, and shrugged at the sympathies, after all it happens.

"I mean with soul magic, and this is obviously a huge over simplification, but it is wrong to steal something like a sword that is not really yours, but the whole thing is different if one gives their sword to you. Just because you have the power to take something from someone doesn't make it right.

Oh, yes my potatoes! Now, how can I explain this? So to start you were kind of overthinking many parts for the most part all most need is a preservation spell, on that I found extremely useful with my newly found company of less lively friends, HAHA. But yeah, potatoes are suited for nature essence slash energy, but they also hold life energy superbly, plus their form is naturally rich in how much energy they can hold and provide. Man can not live off bread alone, but he can live off of potato alone. The main thing I need to do is covert other energies into life as I infuse them into the spud, and then I have energy on my belt. Potatoes are naturally durable so I have to worry very little about them breaking, and my preservation keeps them from rotting. On the off chance a force does break them it is alright since all that escapes is life energy, and not in dangerous amounts.

Mind you I can and have used runes, but spuds can hold a large amount of energy without them, and runes can be limiting, especially when I only am aware of the basics so best not if they are not needed. Also when I am making potatoes that have specific purposes before hand I tend to turn the outside to more of a stone consistency for safety, and to contain all the energy.

Honestly though, I tend to just draw on the energy a spud already contains, like others draw on the energy from anything else.

Oh, Albedo!"

Steve smiled wide as he looked between the pair,

"You are in luck, Albedo's... Ed was a... experimental man who loved... learning more than... much else...

*Cough Cough*

Anyways, Albedo, Man Bro. Man Bro, Albedo. He's here for some academic consultation on a few bits of soul magic related to his work, and he doesn't suffer from Eilasandree syndrome"