Book of The Dead - Chapter B3C55 - A Place of my Own

As it turned out, nothing happened. Tyron haphazardly piled the bones into the recess and nothing at all occurred. He even utilised the magick-eye spell to see if there were any change in the energy, but there was nothing. Curiously, the bones didn’t appear to be taking in the ambient Death Magick either, which they definitely should have been.

Curious, Tyron took the time to purge the bones of any built up magick using a mat he had designed for this purpose. Even when the bones were totally free from arcane energy, they still refused to take anything in. Curious.

Interested to see the difference, he turned to his existing minion waiting by the door and carefully examined it. It turned out this undead was taking in energy; a steady flow of Death Magick infused its bones, joining the already abundant energy contained within. The conduit placed within its ribcage seemed to act as a doorway or opening, allowing even more of the magick to seep inside, infusing the enchantments woven into the minion, then infusing into the bones and weaving that made up the creature’s body.

Was it helping or hurting the minion? Perhaps neither? As far as he understood, there was a saturation limit for undead flesh and bone, a point beyond which they wouldn’t take in any more energy. Each of his minions should have reached that point, especially now, after such a long time connected to the conduit network, drawing in a steady flow of death energy.

Perhaps something different was happening here? Or was it a consequence of the purity and density of this arcane energy? Again, as far as he understood, energy was just energy. The richness… or abundance… or quality, shouldn’t matter. Quality wasn’t even a property of magickal energy! Yet… his skeleton was absorbing energy.

For three hours, he watched and documented the changes as more and more energy accumulated inside the bones of the skeleton, beyond the point he had previously considered ‘fully saturated’. Eventually, after about two and half hours, the skeleton no longer took in more Death Magick. It stood, as it would on the outside, not consuming energy, or taking any in. Its cores were full, its bones were full.

Once he was sure nothing more was coming in, and that the skeleton appeared to be stable, he ordered it to run laps around the chamber. It seemed faintly ridiculous, watching a skeleton run in circles. The relatively faint tak tak tak of the bones against the stone resonated against the walls as the undead mindlessly and repetitively ran.

He was attempting to drain the creature of its energy, but as time wore on, he realised he couldn’t. The array, combined with what was flowing into the bones, was simply too much energy. His minion was drawing in more than it was using.

Tyron frowned.

Interested to see what would happen, he took the minion outside of the Ossuary and back to the mountain. Standing still, the undead began to lose energy, leaking it out into the air as the bones began to seek a new equilibrium.

This was a stunning development. Several things had now occurred in succession that the young Necromancer had no explanation for. Far from being discouraged, he was elated. Whenever he encountered something for which his current understanding couldn’t explain, it was a sign that something fundamental in his model was broken. He had to shatter it, and build it up again from the ground up.

Moments like this were what he lived for. Fully unaware of the slight smile that creased his lips or the faintly glazed expression that blossomed in his eyes, Tyron turned back into the Ossuary, mind already abuzz.

Already, so many questions. An energy tolerance level of bones. The capacity to retain the energy absorbed. The behaviour of the energy within the Ossuary. Even if he could solve each of those mysteries, the greatest question of all remained: when those solutions were applied, was there a way to make his undead more powerful?

All his knowledge needed to be bent to that end.

Eager to explore more of the Ossuary’s capacities, he turned his attention back to the inert bones he had left within a recess on the wall.

They remained as he had left them, devoid of any magick at all, resting in a loose pile. Obviously, the Ossuary itself was interfering somehow, since it made no sense that the bones wouldn’t absorb energy. Even in the wild, bones would begin to take in ambient magick, slowly turning it into death energy and sharing it with other remains. Here, in this preposterously rich environment, the bones wouldn’t take in any energy? It was absurd.

The recesses were clearly intended to house a full human skeleton laid out, so that is what he did. Starting with the feet, he carefully sorted the bones and began to put them in their place, moving up the skeleton until at last he put down the skull. The bones were now laid out in the manner he would place them before beginning to work on the threading.

As soon as the skull was in position, Tyron noted a change. Carefully, he stepped back from the recess and cast the magick-eye spell, watching the flow of energy like a hawk. The influx of death magick was immediate. In abundance, it flowed from the altar in the centre of the room, or more accurately, the gap around the base of it, and into the bones.

Now this was another interesting development. If things continued at this pace, the bones would become fully saturated in a matter of hours. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing, since it would mean the remains would then begin to form into a wild undead. He frowned. Surely the Ossuary was more than just a place he could efficiently infuse remains with energy. He was already doing that a long time ago. All of his current minions had been infused with death magick and gone as close to full saturation as was possible before they were raised. If this was all these recesses did, then it was a slight time saver, at best.

Determined to learn what the end result would be, he took out his notebook and began to scribble away, trying to get some of the ideas in his head down and onto the page. All the while, he closely monitored the energy flowing into the bones held within the recess.

Hours passed and Tyron lost himself to the flow of ideas. Pages became filled with notes, theories, tests, possible solutions and many collections of sigils as he sought to use what he was sure of to plumb the unknown he was grasping for.

Ultimately, it took much longer for the remains to saturate than he’d expected, over four hours, but like the minion he’d brought in before, they continued to absorb energy well beyond what he had thought possible. When at last he detected that no more energy was being absorbed by the bones, he tensed. Any second now. Or perhaps now? Or perhaps… not?

Tilting his head to the side, Tyron beheld something that should not be. The bones had absorbed more death energy than they should have reasonably held. Even by the standards of this place, they were full, they weren’t taking in any more. Yet… the process of forming a wild undead did not take place.

The strands of magick that formed the sinew and muscle didn’t form. No light began to glow within the hollow sockets of the skull. Each individual bone remained as it was, not even twitching.

Fascinated, Tyron crept closer, still believing that something should happen. Yet, no matter how long he waited, it did not.

For a time, he paced back and forth. He examined the recess again. There were no enchantments, cores or anything that might explain what was happening. For whatever reason, a wild undead… refused to form.

Tyron ran outside, collected his blanket, threw the bones into them and waited.

Still nothing.

He took the bones outside the Ossuary and lay the blanket out on the ground. Immediately, two things began to happen. The bones began to leak energy, and they began to pull themselves into position, tendrils of magickal thread beginning to form between them.

“How?” he said, dumbfounded.

Regardless of how, he had his answer. Within the Ossuary, wild undead would not form. Before the bones could be wasted, he gathered up the blanket and ran back into his new, confusing dimensional space. Once they were inside, the remains once again became inert.

Brow furrowed, Tyron tried to make sense of it. As far as he understood it, the recesses within the Ossuary were able to hold remains in a state of perpetual saturation, without the risk of going wild. That was helpful, significantly helpful.

However, that only led him to the next mystery. Within the Ossuary, the bones were reaching a point where they held more energy than they could sustain on the outside. Something in here was allowing them to take in more than they normally could. If he were able to somehow increase the tolerance level of the remains he worked with… then perhaps they would be able to retain this energy? More death aligned energy was, from what he’d learned so far, always a good thing.

There was an interesting wrinkle, though. When he infused bones to use with his bone-forging, they took in a huge amount of energy without leaking it. What was the difference? Was there a qualitative change that occurred when he was forging? If he was required to invest that much energy into each and every minion… the process would become far too inefficient. There was no guarantee the supply he had access to here would be bottomless.

Frustrated, he scrubbed a hand through his hair and began to pace back and forth once more, hands folded behind his back. There were so many questions. Each step forward only opened more possibilities, each of which would need to be explored if he was going to be thorough. He needed to test how robust the supply of death magick within the Ossuary was. That was, perhaps, simple enough. He already had tools that gathered death magick and purified it. All he needed to do was alter them to store it, so that none went to waste. For that, he would need cores. Many, many cores. Thankfully, the supply of kin through the rift was functionally endless. In enough time, he would have the cores he needed.

Next, he needed to determine the difference between forged bone and regular bone, especially pertaining to their saturation levels. What would happen if he brought forged bone into the Ossuary? Another test for him to conduct….

Of course, he had to try and raise minions within the space as well. There may be a difference between those raised within and those raised without. There was only one way to find out.

If only the Unseen were a little more verbose in its descriptions. It wasn’t the first time he’d had this thought, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. Although… he might be able to learn more when he reached level forty five. With access to another ability selection and the full list of feats, he may be able to shed some light on the capabilities of the Ossuary. He wouldn’t get much, he knew that, but something was better than nothing.

Filled with ideas, he left the bones where they lay on the floor and stepped out of the door. Placed above the ritual circle, a constant drain of power was required to keep the entrance in place, but he made sure to keep it topped up, he had no fear of it vanishing before he was ready.

Dove intercepted him by the cave.

“Worked out what’s going on in there?” he said shortly.

Tyron shook his head.

“Not even remotely. You aren’t the only undead who can absorb more energy in there, but it starts to leak out of my skeletons the moment they leave. For whatever reason, they can’t retain the power.”

Dove placed his hands on his bony hips.

“The same thing happened to me. Whatever extra juice I pulled in was lost when I came out.”

“That’s… interesting. The additional energy my skeletons took in was stored in their bones, which are a natural repository of that energy, but you don’t have any bones. The only part of you which is undead, is your soul. Which would mean…”

“What? That my soul can act as a container for magick?” Dove asked.

The skeleton grew still.

“My soul can be a container for magick,” he said slowly.

Tyron nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted. There was only so much inspiration a mage could take.

Excited, Dove grabbed hold of his shoulders and shook him.

“Do you know what this means?! You get it, right? You fucking get it?!”

The Necromancer endured this exuberant treatment.

“Yes. Yes, I get it.”

“If there’s magick mixing with the soul… then… then…!”

“Then a status ritual should be possible. Stop shaking me please.”

Filled with energy, Dove leapt away, dancing an absurd little dance as he flung his bony limbs about, cackling like a madman.

Tyron only sighed, then grinned. An irrepressible urgency was building in the back of his mind and he’d felt it enough times now to recognise it for what it was. It wouldn’t be long now until he lost all sense of time as he threw himself into the work, reaching that obsessive state which had led to his best and greatest breakthroughs. With so many paths in front of him, who knew what he would come up with by the time he was done?