Traveller's eyebrows lifted at Voph's lack of information of the situation. Of course, everything Traveller knew came from street rumors and some old, rotten texts from a library. His eyes locked on to Voph. It appeared Voph didn't even have that much information, which, to him, was a warning. Voph could be a person who went head first without thinking things out first. On the other hand, Traveller appreciated Voph's eargerness to go to the source of trouble in order to figure things out.

At Rosa's words, Traveller nodded slowly, he understood what Rosa was saying. In this wasteland all supplies would be precious, especially this far into Rzail. "Thank you for the information. . . I'll talk to them later," he said, his gaze drifting off from Rosa to the caravan. He would also have to ask the caravan about their way of life when he for supplies. It might make for an interesting story.

Rosa's quick explanation hit all of the important points, so Traveller left it at that. "Others who know more might arrive, but that is the gist of it." He bowed his head slightly after Rosa's introduction. "Well met, Rosa Stoneheart."

Voph's gaze flickered to Rosa as she talked, remaining silent through her speech. When she bowed to introduce herself, Voph returned the gesture. A stiff bow, more akin to an incline of the head by bending at the waist than a proper bow. Though under the circumstances, Voph wasn't exactly showing a lesser level of respect. "Voph, at yours." He straightened back up, and scanned their surroundings again. He mused over Rosa's word for a moment, then returned his attention to the group.

Voph turned to Traveler, and said, "So the question being if this is a case of....necromancy, you call it? That or reincarnation. Fairly certain Necromancers can't bring themselves back from the dead, so this being was never truly killed in the first place, or we have more problems to worry about than some near-deity. Assuming the former, you find the individual resurrecting the deity, and kill em. Or, if there's no third party involved, you do your best to contain it while figuring out why the prior attempt to kill it failed." Voph turned to Rosa as he continued, "So yes, I might not have done my research on this particular monster hunt, but I am not entirely new to them."

In response to Traveller, Rosa said "Actually, I'd suggest having that talk now. I don't want to waste time, not with what we're up against. Unless either of you particularly want to stall any longer, I think we should get moving as soon as possible." This was entirely true. The more time spent not putting Karnorouri down, Rosa thought, the more time he had to prepare himself and to endanger other people.

So this wasn't Voph's first time on a mission of this calibre? Good, Rosa thought. They could certainly use the experience. Still, even if Voph displayed a level of intelligence in his analysis of the enemy, he wouldn't have been able to do so if Rosa hadn't explained what was happening to him. She wasn't eager to die just because of his carelessness.

"You make it sound so easy, Voph. It's probably safest if you don't fool yourself; there is a very good chance that this is more than we can handle. Pretending it will be easy will only get you, and perhaps subsequently the rest of us, killed."

Traveller looked at Rosa for a moment, his gaze expressionless. "I assumed that you would not aide me when you said it was an issue for me. I see that is not the case. Thank you." With her help Traveller decided he might actually leave the caravan with supplies, although with the way Rosa was moving, he wouldn't have time to hear about the way of life for desert caravans. Rosa was right about stalling, though. He could feel the power of the Lich. It was like a dam was breaking. . . the dam would only crumble more as time went on, further letting out more of the Lich's power.

Voph's straightforward logic was appreciated. What he said sounded solid and he said it in a confident way. Confidence meant a lot in a person as long as they knew some bounds.

Traveller's green eyes shifted to Voph as Rosa addressed him. Rosa was definitely laying it down for Voph. She seemed to be a very cautious person, a person who stood out from the average sword-swinging hero. It made Traveller wondered if she attained those scars from the mistakes of others. Of course, the caution could also be a case of having a strong sense of survival.

He motioned to the caravan, "alright, let's go." With that, he started walking toward the desert caravan.

Voph fell into stride behind Traveler. Assuming that Rosa was not far behind, Voph said, "A fair point, Miss Stoneheart, yet do bear in mind that when I set out to investigate our newfound mortal enemy, I did not expect to join a company of heroes seeking his destruction. Seeing that both you and Traveler have set your minds that we are in this together, in spite of having known each other for a collective ten minutes, I am willing to take a more careful approach to things so as not to endanger your lives. Fates know enough people have died at my hands, deserving or no."

As they walked, Voph took a sip from his canteen. Traveler and Rosa seemed decent people, if a bit....narrow minded? Voph never made the comment aloud, but their willingness to enlist him into defeating this necromancer didn't instill good feelings. He was no stranger to the concept of cannon fodder, and had the distinct feeling that's exactly what Rosa, if not Traveler, intended for him. But, what the hell, he'd made it this far. As he re-sealed his canteen, he made the comment, "Anyone sees something eatable, let me know. Game's been scarce and plants even moreso..."

@CoyoteLovely@Hekazu@EchoesofOld@Mataus@Ciaran



It was nice having a person with sharp ears around. It kept one from doing stupid stuff like walking past what was hopefully some much needed help. Fionn turned and followed Nakreyya through the small forest of skeletal grey trees. He couldn't tell if they were dead and had simply been protected by the geography or had somehow found a way to survive in this wasteland. Didn't particularly care which one it was either.

Their path took them out of the riverbed they had landed in. Eventually reaching 'solid' ground and the people they were searching for. It was a trio of heavily armed adventurers from the look of things. Although they didn't posses the familiarity of a well traveled party. Perhaps they had joined together for thus mission in a tavern just outside the wastes.

Or maybe they had all joined that caravan the mage could see a little ways off. No way to know for sure without talking to them of course. Not unless either of his companions were psychics and had failed to mention it.

"Greetings fellow travelers." He called out. His helmet attached to his belt for the moment. "Have you also come to prevent Karnorouri's unsealing? Or has your caravan simply chosen to rest here."

---

---

Arex had come to learn this of the natives. They had an unusually high fear and intolerance for the undead and anything alike, more than one would deem logically reasonable or rightfully so. They took no risks and went to great measures to prevent such things. They decapitated and bound their dead, burying them far deeper than any sane man would dare to dig. Fresh meat was left out and tethered to hooks and bells in some ritualistic superstition. Decrepit old spikes littered every wall and fence. Every measure conceivable was taken and Arex was sure their were many more.

With that though in mind, upon reflection he now understood their actions. It was a deep seeded true fear they had.
He chuckled to himself as he considered his appearance. He couldn't even measure how long it had been since he last saw his reflection, showered or changed his clothes. He most probably looked like walking death or worse. He couldn't blame them for their actions but neither would he consider guilt for his.

This land had not been too kind to him. The eternal twilight and endless dunes turning his mind into a timeless prison. Between the long dull monotonous drudgery of shambling between far distant locations, where people creatures and nature waited to try kill, rob or eat him, he did feel like like he was truly dead. It was that space in between life threatening situations that he was forced to constantly return to, that maddening solitude dragging on seemingly forever between the scarce horrific encounters, that's where he left behind his waning sanity.

Arex whispered a broken tune to himself as he sat on a pile of carefully stacked corpses. His only possessions, his heavy guns, in hand. Long since before his arrival had he run out of ammunition. Yet still his guns remained responsible for the bodies on which he sat. Equally the bodies held the responsibility for the blood splatter and grime stained on the steel which Arex scrubbed at with great futility.
Alone he sat cursing the dead and mumbling to himself. Surrounded only by a roofless shack who's walls were so damaged they now served little purpose but to mark what once was. The centrepiece of a shambled tiny temporary village. Built for a single family, now home to just one man.

“Arex, Seer of... Sand,
Whose gaze does see no end to time,
Sees not the fucking Doch Mol,
Where eternal bullshit dare rise
But the fables of Ez-Lye
Where, by false words, fools come to die.'s.”

One might grow fond of solitude in Rzail. Others grow petrified of merely the idea. To be alone proved to be quite the gift and a curse. Out of sight was not always out of mind and often when the prospect of being alone set in, it proved to be a ruse. Traversing these nightmarish lands often questioned one's sanity, determination, and grit. Despite this, Sciaac arrived voluntarily. His stance was neither triumphant nor reeking of fatigue. He had been in this exact location before.

In efforts to better understand the psyche of other individuals, Sciaac had a habit of mentally evaluating and experimenting on inhabitants of the lands. There were times where Sciaac had the intent to exchange resources for research but he is not always so charitable. He had just begun to grasp empathy, though he remained relatively obtuse on the matter. When he saw fit, Sciaac had no qualms about adding to the longstanding trend of violence in Rzail.

However, in this case, he intended to have a peaceful encounter with a particular hermit of the land. In the approach to his shambled residence, Sciaac noticed a lack of livestock. He often gave the hermit just enough to survive in the anticipation that he would eventually consume the very creatures he valued but he never did. Not once did he give into greed but apparently things have changed. Since his last visit, it appeared that the old man had finally hit his breaking point.

His travels eventually brought his lanky alien frame to a shack the hermit was known to frequent. Lowering his head to enter the archway, he became witness to a fort of bodies with an individual in the center. Immediately, Sciaac was able to piece two and two together and realize what took place. The old man was a valued subject of his but the slaying of him was not enough to invoke his wrath. Instead, he chose to focus on the individual in front of him for who he appeared to be. He was someone who was simply trying to survive. He was someone who now had his interest.

With Sciaac boldly advancing towards the armed man, Arex would become aware of his astounding height and his influx of abnormal attributes. Would he be intimidated? The alien began his interrogation process regardless.

“Fate has had it that our paths have intertwined. In the future, this may prove to have been a delightful or unfortunate thing… I'll ask you now, why are you here?”

---

---

Arex never looked up from his guns. His fingers had run raw scraping across the the surface and digging into the tiny ditches that he now clearly, yet somehow blissfully unaware, was adding to the mess.

He shook his head and let a pause of silence build between them. "Tch, Tch, Tch." He eventually responded. "I'm alive." he informed no one in particular as he stopped polishing his gun with his own blood and leant back to examine his hard work. An odd smile ran across his lips. An expression caught between two worlds. Heaven and hell.

He looked up to the intruder.
"Did you bring my whiskey?" He asked the tall creature curiously in a dry raspy voice as he looked up to meet its eyes. As he continued to speak a feint strain of desperation entered his voice.
"Karnorouri, please tell me you have our whiskey!"

@Liaison

When Traveller spoke, Rosa simply nodded and proceeded with him. When Voph spoke, on the other hand, she had to stop herself from laughing.

"You didn't expect to meet others... so you thought you could defeat Karnarouri? Alone? I'll admit, I haven't seen you in a fight, but I really doubt that. Hell, I don't know if the three of us together could beat him. I'll grant you this much, usually I wouldn't be quite so friendly, but I know I'd rather do that than die.

"And, apparently, I'm about to get another opportunity."

It was then that Rosa heard and subsequently saw Fionn approaching. Someone else come to deal with the lich, judging from both what he said and his equipment.

"A little of both," Rosa replied. "You're here for him as well?"

Hearing Voph's question about food, Traveller decided to answer: "I don't see anything we may eat in our surrounding environment, but I do see a caravan that might supply us if our luck would have it." Traveller himself wasn't too low on food, but he wanted to have a good cache of food in case he was injured and couldn't use his summoning magic.

Rosa's mention of how the three of them would fall before the Lich made him think. It was a disturbing thought. A truth that would shake any seasoned adventure. They were dealing with a powerful entity, one that would shake the balance of the world.

With Traveller's attention on the conversation between Rosa and Voph, and what he planned to say to the caravan, Traveller missed the entire group heading their way. "Pay attention, damnit," he said under his breath. He stopped walking, turning toward the new group. He thought about whether or not it would harm Traveller, Voph, and Rosa if he gave up their purpose. He decided that the newcomers shared their purpose. "Greetings, we seek to stop the Lich, or so these two with me have said." He paused for a moment, eyes moving between each one of the newcomers. "I assume you seek the same path?"

The other group seemed to be of power. They also appeared to know each other. An organization, perhaps? "With what group are you aligned?" Traveller asked, giving in to his curiosity.

Voph chuckled quietly at the woman, looking up at the caravan, and lifting a hand towards Traveler in acknowledgement of his response. "You'd have gotten along well with my father, Miss Stoneheart. Perhaps the one being I've ever known to be more grumpy than you. But in this case, I'll defer to your far superior intellect. When the time comes to fight, I assure you I'll refrain from action and be taking very studious notes as to how to properly kill boogiemen. And worry not, you haven't given me the slightest hint you even know the meaning of 'friendly'."

Naturally, Voph had no intention of actually sitting out a fight, even against this Kamarouri. He'd never been one to shy from a good scrap, even at risk of his own life. That said, Voph felt the doubt creeping into his mind. He may very well have underestimated this beast when he first began. After all, a being with the power to threaten entire worlds was nothing new where he was from. Hell, he couldn't even remember a time the entire system wasn't embroiled in some kind of war. As well as Rosa's attitude that mirrored his father, opting to grossly underestimate his own chances, rather than allow a shred of hope to be torn from him. And yet, there was something about Rosa's certainty that Voph found unsettling. He wasn't given the time to mull this over for long, however, as his attention was quickly diverted to the group approaching them. His hand flew to his pistol out of instinct, but relaxed visibly when he saw the group was not brandishing weapons. As they approached, he remained quiet, lest he incur the snark of Rosa once more.

These lands were vindictive to the soul. Even without proof, it was natural for the lanky creature to assume Arex was not always this way. If this breakdown occurred recently, perhaps he could be returned, but for now, it was in his interests to inquire about his abnormal anatomy. Arex’s bio-enhancements rivaled his own in terms of composition, though they were much less subtle. It just did not make sense how he was forced into this type of situation.

Stroking his chin, Sciaac opened his mouth to further question but within the man’s incoherent ramblings, he asked about a name vaguely familiar to the alien. That name, of course, was Karnorouri. The mention alone gave him tip of the tongue syndrome. Given Sciaac’s mental acumen, this was extremely uncharacteristic of him. His memory retention was off the charts. It was almost as if the thought of it had been wiped from his memory. He had to get answers, even by force if need be. His ship was not far. However, that was certainly a place individuals did not want to go if in bad standing with Sciaac Bonaparte.

“I'm afraid there's no "whiskey" or whatever you beings enjoy here that you speak of. That name you mention, however. In what way do you know this Karnorouri?”

@CoyoteLovely@Hekazu@EchoesofOld@Mataus@Ciaran



"Aye." The armored man said in response to Rosa's question. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Voph's hand on his firearm. They had approached in the open and without weapons. The reaction seemed uncalled for, even out here in the wastes. Hopefully Fionn's answer to the second question might get the twitchy man to relax a bit.

"I am Fionn of the Kindred. With me are the oracle Grug and the wanderer Nakreyya. We came after discovering that Karnarouri was close to breaking out of his seal. I'm glad to have finally met you. Most of my companions are busy evacuating villages and three people are far to few for the task ahead."

Nakreyya hopped down out of the trees at the mention of her name. She was an elven woman with long red hair tied back in a ponytail, and equally long thin ears. An eyepatch with mechanical parts sat over one eye, the scars branching out from it indicating that the eye was missing. Her other eye was a startling green. She wore skin tight leather in dark colors, and a placid, sober expression.

She came up next to Fionn and bowed to the others, inclining her head as she did a sign of deference and respect.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," she said the words cordially, her voice lightly accented, her native language clearly lyrical and graceful. "Though I am sure you can assume which of Fionn's companions I am - my name is Nakreyya Valheelinen Bloodivy. Though you are welcome to simply call me 'Nak'."

@Silvan Haven @Hekazu @EchoesofOld @Mataus @Ciaran

Everyone knows caravans traverse great sand flats beneath the wan light of Ecetopia’s twin satellites. Day broils too viciously and new moons mask hurdles too perilous. Within the unpopulated reaches of a planet so steeped in mysticism, misadventures are commonplace and vigilance to the ploys of fae and deceits of satyrs advised. However, for Rzail’s desert, and its sprawling expanse of blight, the pale dunes bury mysteries and whisper hazards for which no preparation is effectual and every precaution necessary.

One particular caravan realizes its destination is near when the quality of the sand sharpens from grains to fine bone-white slivers, the very air inspires retching, and the wind sings of a nameless dread with aspirations of implanting itself in and maligning heroic souls. They reach their final ascent of what seems merely of a great dune; yet, as they struggle upward in the predawn fugue amongst the ephemeral companionship of dust devils and mirages, the unnaturally titanic quality of the terrain becomes increasingly evident.

At long last, their trek plateaus. Off in the distance, they behold a monolith that rises in defiance of the first weak rays of dawn. Overhead gyres a murder of three-eyed raveina obscuras, the mockery of their caws a juxtaposition to the indistinct nature of their forms that seems to coalesce and disassociate with all the perspicuity of embers leaping from a coal. One breaks from the group, comes to rest atop the large stone spire, its white beak and eyes queerly lit, and sets its menacing gaze on the caravan. The silent, hateful, lidless leering is somehow worse than any sound it might conceivably produce.

As silently it sits, they near their destination. There, availed closer inspection, an abandoned, but recent, excavation at the pillar’s base manifests. Shovels, graphite stone rubbings, and camp paraphernalia are heaped in piles next to a tent’s ominously flapping tatters. What remains of an auger—the equivalent of satellite communication—lies nearby, its codex shattered. Markings indicate this is the property of the University of Eceterum Alacis, the body responsible for illuminating to the modern world the myth of Karnorouri that towers above them as a very real token of almost forgotten history.

Ever more the day blossoms, chasing away the carrion and defining the exquisitely horrific craftsmanship of the pillar. A massive arm, stripped of flesh, pierces the sand and clutches a stone tablet on which, they are sure, is engraved the infamous stanza. Beyond, the light exposes yet more excavations spread around the central edifice as markings on a sundial. Very well the equidistant cairns may be, had all been spared the plight of burial.

In a gesture as deliberate as it is ominous, the bird glances at a particular mound of stones and lets out a blood-curdling cry. Then, in equally jarring fashion, it ascends back to its familial shadows.

Within, the cairn reveals itself as a former abode with a set of stairs descending to oblivion. On its walls is written a message fresh in blood—over and over again the same three lines, mad, violent, undeniable, and crimson:

“Burn the bodies, scatter the bones.
Burn the bodies, scatter the bones!
BURN THE BODIES, SCATTER THE BONES.”

The transition of the terrain they marched on did not go unnoticed by Traveller. The sand became bone, aged half a millennium, split into many slivers. The air seemed almost toxic. The sounds of the wind as it tore through the land brought even more dread to the land. But alas, the monolith, standing above the land around it, came into view. His eyes tracked a raveina obscura as it parted from its murder, only to watch them, its entire existence hating the travelers. This land, Rzail, was a curse to Ecetopia. A cancer. A mark that unbalanced the entire world.

They were there to stop it. The Kindred. Voph. Rosa. Even the caravan would contribute. So many different individuals had come to halt the evil arising in Rzail. Then Traveller's eyes locked onto a tent near the monolith. They weren't the first to reach monolith of Rzail after so long and the man wasn't entirely sure they would be the last. The magic here sickened him more than the air ever could. It wasn't the strength of the magic that sickened him exactly. It was how corrupted, how evil, how unbalanced the magic was. Traveller closed his eyes a moment, taking a steading breath.

Once his eyes opened he noticed another detail which left him uneasy; there was a large arm protruding from the sand of bone. In its arm rested a stone tablet which probably held the the famous words seen in every old book about the Rzail conflict. Before Traveller could recall the stanza from his memory, a cry broke through the dreadful sound of the wind. The bird's harrowing gesture to the cairn could not, would not be missed. "Come then, Karnorouri, you have disturbed the balance of life and will now pay." Traveller thought, his head turning to survey his companions who would help him defeat the Lich. "And the harbingers have arrived."

---

---

There was a pause in Arex's reply. He stared into nothingness as he concentrated and made sense of the words. In a soft voice came his mumbled reply.
"Sh, Surely he is you, or you is he."
Suddenly his head shakes and he sits up. Focus returns to the mans eyes.
"I forget which one." He now looks over the alien creature as if seeing it for the first time with an unnerving curiosity and a hungry smile.
"If you are not waiting to dance the strings of my corpse like a puppet, what are you doing here? Or are you already doing it?" he says a little more loudly with confidence.
"Or are you already, am I already dead?"
It was with a sincere curiosity he spoke.
@Liaison

Fionn's introduction was sufficient for Grug, but the end result seemed to have caused some confusion, mainly the assumption that he would have been one of these Kindred this man belonged to. He pondered about correcting the mistake for a moment, but ultimately decided against it. For all intents and purposes, he was working so closely with then now that it mattered not whether he was part of them officially or not. And besides, simply having the excuse to stop for a second, lean on his walking stick for a while and try to catch his breath was plenty enough for him on the meeting of these new people.

Nakreyya had wondered if these people might be the ones he had seen and to be fair a few of them seemed rather familiar. That was why the oracle was not too startled by the drawn gun either, though he kept his tongue ready in case he would have needed to call upon the inhabitant of his shrivelled hand. In the end, the situation was defused and the group set back on walking, now joined by more people after the awakening darkness of the subcontinent. The old Oracle was glad he no longer had to doubt their chances quite as severely as before.

Another grim trek later, the last mile of it being of pure pain to the Oracle's joints already, they found themselves standing before the pillar that had been the centrepiece in many, many of the views the Veil had revealed to him from the grim future. The text splattered on it in blood did little to ease the Oracle, but the fact that it relayed instructions that had been left unfulfilled. To burn all bodies and to scatter their bones. Ravings of a madman to some, knowledge of how to fight against those that raise undead to the others. Grug leaned heavily against his staff, gripping on to it for dear life as it served as more or less the only thing keeping him upright for the time being. Despite great difficulty, he spoke: "We've but made it to the stage of the ruin that is to come if we cannot fulfil our quest. We need to find our way down far below."

@Silvan Haven@CoyoteLovely@EchoesofOld@Mataus@Ciaran

Arem raised his head, and with it caught the deathly stare of the individual in front of him. Sciaac’s bloodshot eyes gripping him with his unflinching stare and intensifying expression growing stronger by the second. Safe to say he was unamused in wake of Arem’s threats.

Sciaac’s upper physique tightened. In addition to being irked by the name Arem mentioned, it crossed his mind that further inspection might prove to be a waste of time. In response, he gripped his right wrist and began turning it. Whereas a normal individual would have broken their wrist, Sciaac did this over and over again with no signs of pain or then intention of stopping. His obsidian claws clanged off of each other, in efforts of tuning their sharpness.

Speaking in a surprisingly calm tone he gave the man his response. “I’m not dead, but you surely could be were you to threaten me again. I could help you find this individual you're looking for, I just need some coherence in your behavior here forward, Though, I have ways of progressing despite that.”

Before Sciaac could go on any further than that his spirits had been triggered. The unjustifiable rumblings, the influx of winds. Despite being some distance away, it was clear this was no coincidence. Should he turn and peer out of the roofless shed, all he needed to affirm his beliefs were there.