After the two entered into the city pretending to be visitors they wandered around aimlessly with the myriad other refugees. As I later learned, their aimlessness was simply to shroud their quest to map out weak points along the imposing sand golden walls towering higher than the pure-blooded giants of the basin patrolled by the altered dead of the Black Pharaoh.
I quickly recognized the scent of Umvraoths lingering on the undead guards who silently patrolled the walls spreading their maddening aura all over the sand filled landscape. Fear gripped my heart as I kept my vigil while following the two in the soft shadows, expecting one of the Nightmares of the Almodo to appear to devour me like in the dream before.
Thankfully this event never unfolded as these umvraothoy were fabrications of the land of Oneiron, though that only registered into me much later after I woke up. For the time being I attached myself to the ethereal robes draping over the hulking frame of Augermil.
To calm myself and gain back the excitement which roared its head in my heart as I entered with them, I diverted my gaze onto the strange buildings of many different shades. There were cubicle shaped homes hewn from obsidian and with crimson plates engraved with unfamiliar glyphs with powerful maghaikas inscriptions woven into them which both I and them felt as Terrianis stared at them quite coldly.
Unlike the traditional imperial architecture, the edges of these intermittent structures were hewn quite bluntly and with surreptitious design emitting strange shadows which I quickly learned were simply offered shading against the cruel rays of the Illius while also protecting the walking dead, or to be precise slowed their decay in this warmer climate.
Though in hindsight I realize it was a small part of why the locals tolerated the walking dead, with the bigger part being that they themselves were not that much different from our Host of Dusk, seeing the various other spirits as nothing more than misunderstood beings.
Still for little me they were still weird folks draped in shining garments of velvet and silken of the highest grade as the source came from the terrifying worms of the south who lived beneath the scorching sands of the many colored deserts. It was quite the dreadful experience at the time seeing one float in the air by strange, gloomy maghaikas crystals embedded into sand stone columns as tall as Augermil himself.
While the cadaver of the chitinous beast was terrifying to me, the arkhruine symbols invisible to the naked eye dancing joyfully around the large cadaver shrouding much of the market square in hardened shadows. What surprised me most was the cinnamon like scent permeating the air which I first attributed to the sweet bakeries in the making of ceramic wombs hewn into the side of certain sand golden structures, yet in truth the scent originated from the hovering corpse.
The whole market was a strange event to witness as living and undead guards patrolled in the thick crowd of people who showed no fear at the walking, rotting corpses adorned in silvery and dark armor with an open helmet exposing their horrid visages. People simply ignored them as they went on to their business’s, children laughed and some even waved to the emotionless guards.
Terrianis and Augermil on the other hand veiled their disgust quite well as they carefully maneuvered between the colorfully dressed while also hiding in the shadows of wide alleys where only the downtrodden and homeless dwelt. Strangely Terrianis kept watch while Augermil inquired them on the maze-like routes of the humongous city, specifically asking about the ones leading towards the temple as the palace itself was quite easily findable.
The pyramid shaped palace of Khadrath itself – in my own estimation at least – was large enough for one clawed hand of Nightscale himself to fit upon its flat top. The palace itself was hewn from the finest of obsidian, resulting in a polished, lavishly glassy surface reflecting and converting the rays of the Illius into a cooling light as I inspected it with my blessed eye.
From the market itself I discerned that the pyramid itself was segmented into at least three vast floors with each top and bottom edge ornated with lavish silver engraved with strange, weird hieroglyphs imbued with strange maghaikas inscriptions just like with the other structures of the city. Though I could deduce these runes prevented unwanted eyes from peering beyond the thick, stiffly sloped walls, which at the time I thought how exciting it would be to slide down from them. To be honest to myself, I still think it would be a thrilling experience.
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But these thoughts were pushed away as me and them heard the strange thrumming coming from the center, the palace itself. At the third thrum the people of the market, the whole city stopped with whatever they were doing, those seated rose from their chairs, sofas and each in a perfectly artificial manner turned towards the pyramid and marched towards it as one.
Like them I was filled with curiosity, not knowing what awaited, what beckoned the people of Khadrath. And I was quite excited to find out strangely, not knowing the fateful encounter awaiting me at the end of this dream.
**
It was true that the Vesgeriath Woodland was a swathe land of legions of trees once blooming with ethereally ivory and onyx foliage. Though the latter still appeared occasionally, most of the trees withered away as centuries passed since the leylines beneath were overflown with nekrotic energies.
Which led to certain areas devoid of shadows, allowing a wicked brightness as the light of the Illius filtered by the clouds mingled with the muddy yet still glistening snow. In one such clearing, the mix blooded giants wandered when the Solemn Shepherd loomed behind their steps, where they often dug their own final resting places.
Orhadin himself stood in the shadow of one such barrow of snow and frozen mud. In the vast clearing he stood alone as living, dozens of revenants circled around him as they felt the scent of life emanating from him. But they stifled their desire to torn him apart, to force him amongst their own herd as he also emanated a combined scent strangely familiar yet distant.
The scent of the ophidian Aydvroegh, Jaurmandr who once the chief of minor deossos of finality refurbishing parts of the soul chiseled off from those passed to the Beyond. Yet this was not the one keeping the accursed dead away, but the one much stronger and older belonging to the Elder Dragon of Dusk itself whose first roar birthed the cycle of day and night in all realms of existence.
“Do not sulk my friend.” Orhadin swiftly turned around and with a clean motion was bending his knee, pushing his sloped forehead of scaled ivory epidermis onto it as the familiar voice of Grimslaukh entered his ears hidden beneath his hood.
“Nothing that can be solved. Just need a little time.” He said while still focusing on the runes placed around the rotting cadaver resting beneath mud and snow. While the most of the lost could not be prevented from rising into their accursed state, the Empire still made sure that the peaceful giants of the north remained undisturbed. Many of their vicars called upon the Obtryllia and constructed inscriptions keeping the deceased giants in a faux sleep.
“Let me help with that. Keep your eyes truly open.” At his words Orhadin straightened his stance and channeled mana into his arkhruine point situated approximately at his head from which the now shaped mana flowed into his ophidian eyes revealing the faint outlines of particles.
In his almost childish curiosity, his attention diverted onto Grimslaukh who appeared completely engulfed in dark energies, as if he was wound in reality. Just looking at him he felt awe and had to force himself to stare back at the radiating inscriptions circling around the mound, pouring ethereal whirlpools into the hill like grave.
Grimslaukh stood still yet the darkness which engulfed his whole being spread around the barrow mound, tendrils rose from the ground and nibbled the inscriptions like starving wolves, tearing and shredding the protective wards with ease.
A deep coldness washed over Orhadin, his knees trembled, his grasp on his staff tightened while his teeth pressed against one another while he felt the whole world tremble for a short moment. Then instinctively he stepped back with Grimslaukh as the whirlpool of aethereal energies stopped flowing and dissipated, the hill-like grave trembled before it blown to a thousand parts showering the revenants still circling around.
Many revenants tumbled over as their rotten and frozen carcasses were hit with snow and frozen mud, yet they swiftly rose back as if nothing happened. “Follow his words my children.” Grimslaukh’s hollow voice echoed through the clearing as he pointed at the half-rotten giant no bigger than the trees surrounding them afar.
Warped, distorted words poured from the mouth of the revenants and followed after the once livelier rotten giant emanating a wicked mauve glow from beneath his exposed bones. “Is it alright to let them wander off?”
“Of course. Now come, time to meet with the strongest of this land.” Reality tore itself apart revealing a hole occupied by vicious darkness towards Grimslaukh beckoned Orhadin. Without saying any word, Orhadin complied even happily and two departed to meet one of the dreaded lords of the Vesgeriath Woodland.