Awakening 2:
The air was stale and fog surrounded her. Gretel could smell the cloying scent of the dead and the sharp scent of the black roses that suffused the Garden she set foot in. Gretel was familiar with this place. After all, she held dreams of it so often that it would be an abnormality for her to not remember. She was a Morrite after all, and she heeded her dreams.
What exactly her dream was telling her, she was not sure. Gretel practiced lucid dreaming extensively to be able to better hold memories of what happened in these dreams of her, but she wasn't sure how to interpret the Raven gracefully perched on the singular visible gravestone within this Garden. Her head tilted as she considered the bird, it's head moving to match hers. It's glistening feathers moistened with the surrounding condensation and its bright red eyes simply stared unblinking.
Ravens were Morr's holy symbol. They were his messengers and omens, and meant a great deal of things. She would be remiss to dismiss this omen, for she clearly felt something was amiss.
…Drat, she was thinking in rhymes again. Something about this place did weird things to her.
Her brief contemplation was interrupted by a sudden croak from the Raven (it was commonly thought to be a caw from those who didn't know Ravens, but it was almost certainly a croak, not a caw) as the bird flew swiftly from its perch. Gretel knew this to be a sign. Of what, she wasn't sure. She braced herself for what was coming next.
As expected and foretold by a pattern of her previous dreams, Gretel was subjected to a litany of noises. It was a chorus of dolorous voices that wailed to represent their sadness, railed against the injustices of the world, and regaled her with tales of woe.
It is believed that all those who die (at least for humans of the Empire) are laid to rest within Morr's realm after death if given the proper rites. It is also believed that all those who dream find themselves within Morr's realm, if only for a brief moment, which is why He is also the God of Dreams. It stands to reason then, that those who dream might come across those who have passed to Morr's realm.
That is not quite true.
Gretel was privy to a few notes and secrets of the Cult of Morr that most lay worshippers did not possess. The benefits of being a curious kid raised in a Morrite convent who perhaps sneaked where she shouldn't have. Thus, she was well aware that there was a clear line delineating the Land of Dreams from the Land of the Dead, and that line was not so easily crossed.
There was a scenario in which that line could be crossed. Those who are close to death thread the boundaries of the two Lands, and that makes them a ripe target for possession. The recently dead also thread this line, but they hold no more dreams beyond the endless slumber.
One could argue that a person suffused in so much Shyish as Gretel threaded this line by virtue of her very existence, but Gretel knew better. These were not the wails of those who have already died and found eternal rest within Morr's Garden, but those who hold great pain and anguish, never given a proper burial.
One of the cardinal sins in the eyes of any Morrite, of which she was one.
Gretel closed her eyes and let the voices wash over her. It was not an easy task, for they told of much suffering and agony they had gone through in life such that she could not imagine. Gretel needed to let this sink in, to be a reminder.
Gretel did not act entirely in her self interest. Heedless hedonism was not all that she lived for. She was also a Morrite, and the duty of any dutiful Morrite was this:
To put the dead to rest.
—--
"You're awake? I can never tell with you anymore, but I assume open eyes are a telltale marker." Gretel was greeted with the amused and cheeky tone that she found herself pleased to hear in the morning.
She looked over to the side of her bed to find her friend (and bedtime partner) fully dressed and wearing her leather armor, her right hand on her hip and her painted lips tilting upwards slightly. Perhaps she would have enjoyed a few less clothes in the way, but Gretel could not rightly say she did not enjoy Isabella's immaculate look.
"Where's Lucas? I'm pretty sure I remember him being somewhere around here. Don't tell me I accidentally kicked him over the bed again?" Gretel could stand to be a little groggy. It was quite the exhausting dream, so she took her time getting dressed. Isabella was looking of course, but Gretel couldn't say there was many pleasant things to look at. Gretel was confident over a lot of things, her gawky, stretched out body was not one of them. Hard to be proud of the results of a miscast.
"Ah, don't you worry about that. He woke up early to get a few things done, and left me to watch over you. You worried us severely, you know. I'm never sure if you're sleeping or you just croaked in your sleep. Your body's cold, you barely move, and your heartbeats and breaths are way too slow! If it wasn't for your pupils dancing around underneath those pretty eyes of yours, I'd be even more worried!" Isabella's tone started off amused, her usual lighthearted self, but even Gretel could see the strained tension underlying her words.
"Ah, sorry about that. I guess I should have warned you a little more. My slumber isn't exactly,,, normal."
"What about you is?" From someone else, that might have been very rude. Yet, Gretel could sense the fondness and admiration behind it.
It was very hard to say how exactly Gretel ended up with two beautiful, understanding people who were willing to not only put up with her, but even share a bed with her.
"W-well, anyways, I can tell you all about it later. Let's get going." Gretel tried her best to hide her reddening face as she pulled Isabella along, the both of them fully dressed and ready for a new day.
—----
Gretel had a lot of time to mull things over. After all, she wasn't the one driving the coach, she was just sitting alongside the cargo, keeping an eye on it. Horses didn't like Gretel, they hated the stench of death surrounding her. Well, not literal stench, but animals could be sensitive enough to feel Shyish anyways. At least when someone was suffused with it. She had long since given up on driving vehicles.
Sometimes Gretel wished Mathilde had created some sort of magic carriage pulled along by Shadow horses. She saw the effects of that horse with her own eyes, and she was impressed. Heck, why not also make the carriage fly too? Shadow horses and magic carriages didn't need to obey the laws of physics. Gretel firmly rejected the part of her that told her that would be too much like a Black Coach. Ridiculous, those horses were Undead, and the Coach had a Vampire soul in it and was driven by a Wraith. Nobody could possibly mistake flying magic carriages pulled by shadow horsies for a Black Coach!
Gretel's musings were interrupted by a sudden stop. Startled by the sudden change in pace, Gretel stood and approached the driver.
"Ah! Is something the matter? Why'd you stop?" Gretel asked.
The drive looked troubled, as if he didn't know what was going on. The horses were neighing and pulling against their reins, and Gretel could feel the trepidation dripping from the horses. Gretel had a sense of when things could go awry, call it intuition, or more accurately a sense of Shyish foretelling doom, but the alarms were sounding.
"Uh, uh, I don't know! The horses just started panicking, and they won't go any further!" Came the panicked voice of the driver, clearly unused to such behavior from his steeds.
That was when the ambush was sprung.
Gretel had her suspicions, and perhaps she should have had them the instant she began to see the road narrowing around the cliffside leading to the small village she was making a supply run towards, or perhaps she should have felt the Shyish and Dhar exuding from the undead earlier.
Except, she hadn't.
One second, she only had suspicions, the next, about a dozen skeletons popped up from the bushes surrounding the road for an ambush. Perhaps if she wasn't here, the skeletons would have been successful.
But there was a reason she was the only one guarding this coach.
It was over in a matter of seconds. It wasn't even worth boasting about, after all, it was just a dozen Skeletons and she was an Amethyst mage. She would be a disgrace to not only the Amethyst College, but to the Duckling Club and her teacher, Mathilde, if she couldn't handle this with ease.
And yet, it left her disquieted.
Who was controlling these skeletons? An errant Necromancer? Then where was he? Gretel had tried, but she struggled to locate the thread of Dhar and Shyish signifying necromantic control and where it originated from. The Skeletons were feeble, but they were stronger than the average skeleton. And now that she examined them, she could see some oddities. The bones were old, very old. And they were clad in bronze armor, the insignias and markings for identification either worn out by time or rubbed out deliberately.
Deliberation could wait until they were back to camp however. She had a mission to complete.
—-
"Hmm, quite strange." Lucas observed the bones of one of the skeletons in the command tent. A table was set up containing a map of the surrounding area for the Howling River operations.
"You're not the first to report these disturbances. They've been felt all across our borders, and I hear, all over the Howling River. Skeletons appearing out of nowhere to attack coaches, carts, travellers and more. Never more than two dozen at the most, and never less than half a dozen, and they only attack small forces. No ambushes against caravans or heavily armed forces. We've been looking for traces of them, but they seem to simply… appear, and when they're done, if they succeed, they simply vanish." Spoke Ruprecht Wulfhart the Younger, representing the Winter Wolves of Ulrikadrin.
"Somma boys came 'cross these fellows on the road and said they didn' recognise their garb nor their 'quipment. I reckon either those bones are older than time can tell, or they've been scrubbed out. They use bronze though, so that shortens the list. Haven't seen much of that since Sigmar's time." Came the slow, heavy Mootlander drawl of Lumpin Croop.
"I'm not so sure about this, no? Skeletons appearing and disappearing without a trace by the dozen, attacking our forces? Doesn't sound like a Necromancer to me. Unless He's come back to screw with a bunch of mercenaries and vagabonds laying claim to a stretch of the Border Princes, I say we have a Vampire on our hands, no?" Said the sharply accented Tilean representing the Marksmen of Miragliano, Flavio.
"Or a Tomb King." Gretel would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy the way everyone's head turned to her in surprise. Waiting for the opportune moment to disclose important information in the most dramatic manner was definitely exciting. No wonder Mathilde loved it so much.
"I've had a little time with the skeletons in my possession. My interest was in examining every little detail. Determining whether the skeleton was male or female wasn't all that relevant, because Necromancers used what they could get, so it doesn't matter to them. However, it should be noted most of the skeletons were male. My belief is that they were soldiers.
"You might be wondering why I'm making these assumptions. Well, I've been able to observe these skeletons in combat firsthand. Knowing what I know now, I highly doubt that the Necromancer was coordinating these skeletons personally. Not only is it a monumental task to micromanage undead across such a wide area in multiple places, the motions demonstrated by these skeletons were too uniform and rigid. It lacked the unpredictability of a living, or in this case, unliving mind. Some skeletons, once revived in the appropriate manner, retain a measure of their capabilities in life. Not as much as a Wight would, but enough to instill basic formations into them.
"That is what I observed. Whoever has resurrected these skeletons was drawing from a predominantly male pool of primarily soldiers. Considering the age of these bones, instilling basic discipline into a corpse whose soul has passed on so long ago… Not even the mightiest Necromancer could do that without Nehekharan magic. Ancient Nehekhara has long practiced the ability to draw the souls of the dead and bind them to corpses, and sometimes objects. While a Necromancer could theoretically learn these secrets, I ask that you keep in mind the possibility that Nehekharans are behind this. Some of the Tomb Kings did reach this far under Amenemhetup the Great. I hear some of their ruins are around this area, but I haven't been able to find them."
A murmur rose around the tent as the council absorbed the information. Gretel could feel a weight lifting off of her as she finished her speech. She had no idea how Mathilde could go on for so long during their meetings back in the day. She felt tuckered out already. Gretel smiled a little to see Lucas giving her a brief thumbs up in approval.
Still, Gretel wasn't sure about this. She definitely felt something weird when her coach was attacked, but she couldn't pin it down. She couldn't rightly say "I had a weird feeling, and it might be related to the dreams I was having". There were enough people who respected Morr in the tent for serious consideration to be given… were she an actual Priest of Morr. But she was not. She was just an Amethyst Mage.
As the impromptu meeting reached its conclusion, Gretel couldn't help but mull over the situation attempting to find any more clues. By the fifth time she repeated the scene in her head, she found Lucas' arm around her shoulder.
"Hey chica! Still lost in thought? I know a thing or two that can help lighten you up, if you're down." Lucas was not nearly as smooth as he thought he was, and the eyebrow waggling did not help. Gretel couldn't help but consider him fondly. She had briefly suppressed her urge to kill him after entering her personal space, an instinctive response, and was glad she didn't go through with it.
Gretel finally took in her surroundings, and found that she had unconsciously moved towards the room Lucas and Isabella rented out in the "Blue Skies" inn they were staying at. The room she was frequenting more and more as of late.
Gretel made a quick show of her thinking about it.
"Hmm. I'm quite the busy woman you know? But I suppose I could spare some time for Isabella. You can tag along if you wish." Gretel couldn't quite hide the edges of her smile under her hand.
"I'd be delighted. Well, so long as you don't kick me out of the bed again"
"That happened one time! You don't see me badgering you about that time you…"
Their voices faded as the two entered the room, Isabella joining them soon after.
AN: If you're confused, read the first part that I titled "Awakening" which I wrote some time ago. I wanted to make a sequel for a very long time, and lo and behold, I've finally done it. Could have been better, but I'm still getting the hang of continued narratives. My mind works in phases, and not in a serialised, continuous fashion. Makes it hard to stick to things instead of jumping around to whatever interests me.
