Book of The Dead - Chapter B3C6 - Fumbling

Tyron stepped out of the backroom and came face to face with Cerry.

“Oh, hel -,” he began.

“Oh good goddess!” she gasped, a hand flying to her chest. “Master Almsfield? You look like death!”

The Necromancer blinked and noted that his eyelids felt as though they scraped over sand as he did so. He blinked rapidly a few more times, trying to moisten his eyeballs.

“Do I really look that bad?” he croaked.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say… you look… yes. I’m sorry!”

He waved her apology away.

“No need to say sorry. I got caught up with a few things. I haven’t slept in…. I think… what day is it?”

Cerry stared at him for a long moment.

“It’s Selene’s day,” she said slowly. “I think you might need to have a rest, Master Almsfield. Respectfully.”

“I’m fine,” Tyron said, then paused and really assessed himself. If he were honest, he felt like shit scraped on mouldy bread. Five days without sleep… and he’d been working essentially non-stop. That wasn’t a good habit to fall into.

“You’re right, I think I will get some sleep. Can you do me a favour and pass these onto Flynn?”

He handed over a case of cores and Cerry took hold of it with wide eyes.

“Alright, I will!”

She toddled off, the padded box clutched tightly in her hands. Tyron watched her go before he stepped into the backroom once again.

He should go straight to bed. That’s what he should do…. Working any further in his condition invited disaster. He had no reason to be pushing himself this hard. He’d spent years constructing his position so that there was no need for him to furtively experiment in the middle of the night. He had the luxury of being able to take his time, consider his steps, make careful and thoughtful strides in advancing his craft.

Instead, he’d thrown himself into it like a drunk finding a new bottle, to the point he was barely keeping up with the demands of his shop. If people noticed he was short on goods for sale, they could reasonably be expected to start thinking about what he was doing with his time. Necromancy wouldn’t be their first or even fiftieth guess, but any undue attention at all was to be avoided, no matter the cause.

“I’ll just take a quick look,” he muttered to himself.

After another five days, the saturation of death magick within the skeletons had become too strong for him to suppress. To even get them to last this long, he’d had to devise a method to draw out and disperse the energy to prevent the bones from assembling themselves into wild undead.

Between that and working on his lens, there hadn’t been much time for further experimentation.

As he stepped into the basement, he quickly walked to his bench and picked up the lens. The craftsmanship wasn’t anything special. In truth, the frame he’d installed the glass into was ‘workmanlike’ and ‘functional’ if he was being polite, and straight up crude if he wasn’t.

But the real prize was the glass itself, the enchantments scraped into the cores embedded in each corner. The network of cores embedded into each corner.

Getting the lens to filter Death Magick so he could see it had been hard enough. Having it focus in and make it easier to see the minute levels of energy he was searching for had been a level beyond. It’d taken him three whole days to crack it, but he was exceptionally pleased with the results.

Of course, by that time, the level of energy in the bones was quite high and it’d been no trouble at all to see it, but even that inspection had proven fruitful.

Mapping the movement through the various bones had been an interesting exercise. There was sure to be a reason behind the particular, almost consistent paths the magick took, but he hadn’t been able to divine that. Even more important had been the moment he’d witnessed the transfer of energy with his own eyes, seeing the Death Magick vanish from one skeleton and reappear in another.

Naturally, he’d known it was happening already, but being able to see it as well as sense it gave him another avenue, another sense he could use to discover how and why it happened. He’d been buzzing ever since and probably spent too long poring over the bones with the lens, examining each and every little detail, even if he was confident they weren’t important or relevant.

“May as well do another pass,” he muttered, as he picked up the lens and began to peer through it.

He moved slowly about the room, checking each of the slabs carefully, scanning every stone, every cubic metre of space, until he was satisfied no Death aligned Magick remained in his workspace.

The bones themselves had been too dangerous to keep, so he’d disposed of them the night before. Of course, even dumping them in the sewer wasn’t safe, as the possibility existed they would find a way to pull themselves together, so he’d gone a step further and ground them to powder before tossing them into the sewage.

With a little luck, those bones were many kilometres away. The sewer connected to the river, after all, and the river went straight to the ocean. His only remaining concern was that no trace of arcane energy remained for a passing Mage to sniff out.

Measures had been taken to suppress and dampen the emanations of the Magick he performed down here, but nothing was foolproof.

When he was satisfied nothing remained, he reluctantly put the lens down on his bench and picked up his book of notes, idly flicking through the early pages.

The feverish scrawl that greeted him brought a smile to his face. When he had just been starting out, every idea he’d had seemed as good as the next. Frequently, he’d found himself chasing multiple hares down multiple burrows, and the scrawl he’d packed onto these pages reflected that. Half-formed ideas, partially baked sigil sequences, one after the next.

He flipped forward and, gradually, some sort of order began to exert itself. Long hours on the back of that cart, scribbling away in this book, trying to find a way forward, had forced him to be more rigorous and focused. The influence of Dove also helped in that regard. As a person, the Summoner had been careless, frivolous and unreliable, but as a Mage, he had always taken his craft very seriously.

With a sigh, Tyron put the book down and made his way upstairs, being careful to ensure he wasn’t seen as he emerged from the basement and then went up to his room.

For now, his experiments would be on hold until he was delivered his next set of remains. It was frustrating, but he needed to be patient. If he dedicated himself to his enchanting work, then he should be able to build up a supply of goods he could draw on when he inevitably lost himself in his research again.

When he finally collapsed into bed, he was almost instantly asleep, and only awoke twelve hours later, in the dead of the night. He rose, scrubbed and dressed himself before he went hunting for something to eat. He was ravenous, and suddenly couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten.

He raided his pantry and found it limited, but devoured whatever he could find. Fed and rested for the first time in almost a week, he decided it was time to sit down and perform the status ritual.

Since he’d resumed his Necromantic activities, he hadn’t checked his progress, so he hoped to see some gains in the key areas he was trying to develop.

Despite it being the depths of the night and the shop being locked up, he wasn’t comfortable performing the ritual outside of the basement. He walked through the empty store, taking note of the immaculate conditions his employees had left it in.

I really need to be a little more careful….

Less reputable people could have robbed the place blind, given his erratic schedule and infrequent appearances. Leaving Cerry to lock up the store every night, a young girl who hadn’t even Awakened, seemed like putting a little too much on her shoulders.

Once in the basement, he grabbed a fresh piece of paper, nicked a small cut in his thumb and pressed it to the page.

Soon enough, the familiar text began to appear as his blood crept over the page. He leaned forward eagerly to see what progress he’d made.

His eyes ran down the page until he found what he’d been hoping to see.

Your use of and experimentation with Corpse Appraisal has raised proficiency. Corpse Appraisal has reached level 14.

He’d hoped for two levels, but he would settle for one. That meant the things he’d learned likely had practical applications. He simply had to discover what they were.

Interestingly, there was another payoff as well.

Your use and exploration of Death Magick has raised proficiency. AdvancedDeath Magick has reached level 13.

More good news. His experimentation with the lens and observation of death aligned energy in the bones seemed to have taught him something. Hopefully after the next set of remains, he could push both of these Skills higher.

Only when he was confident he was on track to reach level twenty in each would he begin to work on Corpse Preparation.

Several of his Enchanting Skills had also progressed due to his new and innovative application in developing tools. A welcome development, since they were notoriously hard to advance.

Name: Tyron Steelarm.

Age: 22

Race: Human (Level 19)

Class:

Undead Weaver (Level 36)

Sub-Classes:

• Forbidden One (Level 24)
• Focused Enchanter (Level 40)
• None (Locked)

Racial Feats:

Level 5: Steady Hand.

Level 10: Night Owl.

Feat Selections Available: 1

Attributes:

Strength:

38

Dexterity:

99

Constitution:

122

Intelligence:

237

Wisdom:

156

Willpower:

110

Charisma:

43

Manipulation:

59

Poise:

59

General Skills:

Arithmetic (Level 5)(Max)

Handwriting (Level 5)(Max)

Concentration (Level 5)(Max)

Cooking (Level 4)

Sling (Level 3)

Swordsmanship (Level 2)

Sneak (Level 3)

Butchery (Level 5)(Max)

Engraving (Level 5)(Max)

Skill Selections Available: 4

Necromancer Skills:

Corpse Appraisal (Level 14)

Corpse Preparation (Level 13)

Advanced Death Magick (Level 13)

Bone Mending (Level 8)

Minion Commander (Level 6)

Undead Control (Level 4)

Minion Modification (Level 5)

Bone-Soul Melding (Level 5)

Bone Weapon Sculpting (Bow) (Level 4)

Death Infusion (Level 1)

Anathema Skills:

Abyss Tongue (Level 4)

Arcanist Skills:

Expert Magick Scripting (Level 29)

Channelling (Level 10)(Max)

Pliance Control (Level 10)(Max)

Expanded Sigil Formation (Level 15)

Core Linking (Level 10)(Max)

Advanced Fine Motor Control (Level 14)

Expert Network Formation (Level 23)

Advanced Conduit Magick (Level 17)

Advanced Core Sense (Level 15)

Expert Power Control (Level 24)

General Spells:

Globe of Light (Level 5)(Max)

Sleep (Level 5)(Max)

Magick Bolt (Level 5)(Max)

Magick Eye (Level 5)(Max)

Necromancer Spells:

Raise Dead (Level 14)

Bone Animus (Level 14)

Commune with Spirits (Level 6)

Shivering Curse (Level 6)

Death Blades (Level 7)

Empowered Bone Armour (Level 5)

Minion Sight (Level 6)

Spirit Binding (Level 3)

Death’s Grasp (Level 5)

Anathema Spells:

Pierce the Veil (Level 5)

Appeal to the Court (Level 4)

Dark Communion (Level 1)

Suppress Mind (Level 10)(Max)

Repository (Level 6)

Fear (Level 3)

Glamour (Level 10)(Max)

Invasive Persuasion (Level 10)(Max)

Crone’s Shade (Level 1)

Bewitch (Level 10)(Max)

Necromancer Feats:

Skeleton Focus II

Magick Battery II

Bone Mastery

Spirit Mastery

Undead Specialist

Anathema Feats:

Repository

Wall of Thought II

Drain Life

Arcanist Feats

Magick Thread Control II

Compact Sigils II

Conduit Seal II

Core Networking II

Mysteries:

Spell Shaping (Advanced): INT +20 WIS +20

Words of Power (Advanced): WIS +20 CHA +20