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[Morvale Barrows]

35th Of Fall 513 AV

It was another gloomy day in the workshop for morvale as he was left with so very little in the way of bones. He had a vertebrae and the fur and that was all that was left, aside bits and pieces and other odds and ends.

Morvale was collecting each piece of the creatures spine, pressing his thumb through the marrow to clear the path that made its way through the items core. It was a meticulous process, one that he needed to be repeated over and over again as every last piece he had left was necessary to complete his project. As time past a little clump of that meat like clay piled up into a nasty mess.

This was one of those first come first serve workshops where aspiring meat puppets would one day prove themselves as being worthy initiates to be cast into the political hierarchy. Where they were most likely ground into hamburger at the whim of there undead masters. But Morvale whom had spent a majority of his time on the island had become something of a recluse, shutting himself off from everyone. It wasn't that he didn't want to be bothered but rather not to many people seemed interested in just another lowly pulser fresh off the boat.

He felt comfortable working on maledicted items, but as of late his patients had grown thin with it. Hard work for nothing more then wonky items, never anything that seemed useful or applicable to his needs or wants. Of course this was a set back, he'd sacrificed a lot to get to this point and his arm pulsed with pain. The outline of the creatures teeth embroidered his flayed flesh, sometimes it was a dull ache and others it was sharp and dreadful. It made him think of his life a lot more, if what he was doing had been worth the risks. Dying after all seemed like it would be detrimental to his health.

But there he sat with his monster bones toying with his bits and pieces figuring out the odds and ends of his final projects with that particular corpse.

[Pandaemus]

Three. Three was the number of ships that had made their way across the depths of the ocean to settle against the water decayed planks of the Harbor docks in Sahova. And three was the number of ships that had been all too happy to turn and return to the treacherous seas after unloading their cargo of cadavers. Pandaemus had taken to watching the wooden beasts drift away to the distant horizon. Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to have survived where his master had fallen. What it would be like to be alive. But only sometimes. Mostly he just liked to watch them leave.

But now was not the daydreaming time. Now was a time for action! Now was a time to finally start that damnable construct he had been planning on showing the judges. He could not, however, show the judges a golem that did not exist. He made his way up from the misty Harbor and into the depths of the Gug Adjak itself. He thought of the pillar of workshops and labs as a sort of beating heart of Sahova. It was where the entire purpose of this place's creation had originated. It was why the oldest undead here had come to be immortal.

He was so preoccupied with his own thoughts of the looming judgement that when he entered the lab he almost didn’t notice the man standing in front of him. Pan turned his eyes up at the last moment and stopped dead. This was a stranger. And he thought he knew all the apprentices in Workshop 23B.

The human was a pulser, and one he had never seen before. Pandaemus looked him over suspiciously. The man seemed build, which was rather rare on the island of dead scholars. Especially in the midst of the Gug Adjak. Pan frowned at the man, confused bewilderment upon his pale, dead features.

“Are… you in the right place?” He asked.

[Morvale Barrows]

A sudden noise came from behind Morvale, it surprised him in such a way that he had jolted into a cringe. Morvale to be honest believed he had a right to be there, but had not received anything concrete to solidify his hypothesis. When he came to island he'd been tangled in a web of guess work, and found himself repelled like a bird hitting a window on more then one occasion thanks to those invisible barriers that segregated those that wished to be a part of the citadel from those that were on fact part of the institute,

As he turned to face this stranger, Morvales expression had become grim. Like the olive tan of his skin had flushed a shade of pale that rivaled the Nuits. He seemed to stumble back, not because he was afraid of him. But because he was afraid of who he thought he was, an apprentice or perhaps a wizard or even a master. And that he'd been caught breaking some obscure rule he had no knowledge of.

"I believe I am, although if I am in a private lab I'm terribly sorry. I was under the assumption that these were labs for everyone, although I'f I am mistaken I can take my project and leave. There's no need for hasty actions, I can't afford a demerit."

It's all morvale could muster from his mouth as spewed his words in a frantic utterly apologetic tone

[Pandaemus]

The man began to speak very rapidly about his project and leaving. And the look he had given Pan upon seeing him. Well. No one on Sahova was lowly enough to give Pan that kind of look. This man had clearly mistaken him for someone important. Then the man, who has slightly shorter than Pandaemus, but infinitely more sprightly, mentioned he could leave and do his work elsewhere.

“Ah no! No, no. I think that it is I that is in the wrong and not you.” He looked around the lab, realizing it was definitely not the place he was supposed to be. It was a room that had a different focus than the gadgetry and animation he had come to be used to. And the man here was apparently a practitioner of this form of magic. Pandaemus felt his interest spike. “See, I’m new here and I think I walked into the wrong workshop.” He forced an embarrassed laugh from between gritted teeth. A fool. This man must think him a fool. Partly to change the subject, but mostly because he could not contain his interest, Pan pointed at the materials splayed out in front of the pusler. “What are you doing here, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Pan liked to think himself relatively knowledgable when it came to magic. He had studied Animation, and had a somewhat passing knowledge of voiding. And when he and his former master had traveled the long road from Ravok to Zeltiva he had seen the University there and knew of many more disciplines they discussed within those high walls. But he had the feeling he was going to experience something new here. Something old. Something with an ancient power behind it.

[Morvale Barrows]

Morvale could physically feel the relief the moment he realized he was ok, he took a moment to run his hand through his chocolate brown hair. He listened to how the undead spoke, it was not what he expected. Morvale was thinking that this guy would be horrible, he seemed rather pleasant and he was also interested in what he was doing which made him glow with a sense of pride and accomplishment. Even though for the most part what his hands touched turned to garbage in the world of Legacy.

"Don't worry about it, come in come in.

I'm working on my latest project, im gonna call it the shroud of the wolf."

His hands moved across the table, stopping at each kit he was going to use in the creation process. Of course his magical implements consisted of paint, threads and needles and some carving tools. Morvale felt like an idiot after that, the power of sewing that was sure to impress this guy as he lowered his head and wrapped his thumb and middle finger around his temples as he shook his head in shame.

"The bones yes he thought show him the materials

This is the wolfs pelt I acquired, and the vertebrae's that I took apart and cleaned out."

His hands went for a leather cord, and began sliding each individual piece of spine through the holes. The clattering of bones klacking into bones helped him forget about making himself look foolish as his mind was concentrating on his grim work. He hoped to impress the Nuit as his fingers weighed and sized up what was going to be strung.

"The names Morvale
What's yours?"

[Pandaemus]

After inviting him into the lab, the character seemed more than eager to show him his craft supplies. The sewing material was not what Pandaemus expected to see but he had done some interesting things to craft his animations in the past. But once he saw the bones and the wolf pelt Pandaemus became seriously riveted. He stepped up and bent to examine the items, careful not to touch them.

Upon further scrutiny the man seemed a bit out of place here. Perhaps almost as lost as he was on the island of the dead? Perhaps the Pulser, like him, felt his humanity slipping away between the skeleton fingers of the all powerful immortals of the citadel. Pan wanted to know. He wanted to understand.

“I am Pandaemus. Never have I experienced this art.” Pan replied quickly, eager to watch the pusler begin his work. Here, he thought to himself, is my first foothold in Sahova. Acquaintances build ties, and ties built roots. Pan would have to have roots in Sahova if he was to survive. “I’m rather new here on the Island, but have been open to magic from an early age. I am interested to see this Shroud of the Wolf come into being, Morvale.” I quick smile showed dead, white teeth and dark gums. The grin of a corpse.

[Morvale Barrows]

It wasn't the immortals that made Morvale feel like his grasp on humanity was slipping but rather the injury across his left arm that had been received on his first outing to the prairies. He'd left the citadel filled with vigor, but somehow all that had changed when the animated monster latched hold of him. There was a depression that manifested each day as his gnawed arm grew grimmer each day. And with each passing brightening, he became a little more dark as that cloud of ominous grim seemed to follow him like a shroud.

He felt better actually being in the presence of someone, people were social and sometimes the silence in these walls were maddening. Even if that someone was a corpse, it still allowed him to cling onto his morality. A sense of kinship, between him and the one that called himself pandaemus. Although he did not know if he could trust him, or even could begin to trust but he was over all agreeable. Perhaps a lab partner or someone to study with when he became a shining apprentice with that shimmering ring. He did delight in that lofty daydream from time to time.

It's a pleasure to make your aquaintance.
Malediction is a pretty old type of world magic, it's primary focus is to tap into the remains of a creatures Djed source and siphon it out.

It made him think that If he had better tools to spot the most concentrated source of this energy he would be able to draw out more potent magic from the item.

As the cord was finally strung, Morvale collected the hide and poked two holes were the creatures shoulders would have been. It would allow the wearer to drape the creatures face over there own like a hood and it allowed the tail and hind corners to sway capriciously.

The next part of the task was to thread the cord through the hold and then carefully string the cord into a tight knot. He did a few knots at each end to really solidify the item. Although looking back he could see how those pieces of spine alot hat embroidered the cord could be viewed as uncomfortable. But no matter, this was nearing the final stages of the creation process.

This went a little faster then usual, I've had time to prepare the items and figure out what I wanted to do with them. In this case you've arrived nearing the end of the crafting session. It looks easier than it is, acquiring bones sounds easy until you got to go out on your own

[Pandaemus]

Pan watched the man work. As he did so he looked him up and down with a shine in his undead eye. To the outside observer it would look like jealousy, and it was. Pan had not really been this close to a pulser willing to give him the time of day in a long time. And since then his body had become more… macabre. He still clung to the remembrance of life and warmth, a man in the darkness grasping at a light forever more out of reach.

He had been given a destiny, but life was not on his path to it. The Morvale fellow though, was. Perhaps through him he could find some remembrance of his life? Pan listened to the pulser make claims about the antiquity of the art. Malediction.

It irked him that he had come in to Morvale in the latter parts of his project. Apparently he had missed out on some vital components in the magic and as such, would not grasp the entire concept. But realistically the nuit thought it would be a stretch to find a way to divide his time between two world magics, and bettering his voiding and gadgeteering. He simply could not find the time to attempt to learn this art at present. So he contended himself with a purely academic knowledge.

The man was sewing the rather vicious wolf pelt into some sort of cloak. So this was the item of magical significance. Somehow Morvale would craft this fur into a relic of power? Would he infuse the thing with his own djed? Would he leach the djed from somewhere else and transfer it to the dead wolf? Pan watched closely.

”This went a little faster then usual, I’ve had time to prepare the items and figure out what I wanted to do with them. In this case you’ve arrived nearing the end of the crafting session. It looks easier than it is, acquiring bones sounds easy until you got to go out on your own.”

“Oh believe me, I do not contest that. I have had a bit of experience acquiring bones in my day, but not for something like this.” Pan did not want to think about what it took to acquire the pelt of such a savage beast. He had never been a hunter. The urge for violence had actually stayed mostly well away from the boy’s head, except for a few grisly memories.

“So you use the dormant djed within the corpse for it’s enhancements. That does seem rather… ancient.” Pan exclaimed, his voice soft with fascination. The pale nuit reached a hand out to touch the fur of the pelt ever so lightly. Almost as if he was trying to feel the hidden power. “Are there limitations?”

[Morvale Barrows]

Every once in a while he looked at the Nuit while he worked his magic into the item. Pandaemus seemed to give him this look. He wasn't sure what to make of it, and he didn't feel compelled to make light of it as his hand reached for the his quill. He dabbed the fountain a few times in quick succession tapped the table to remove excess ink.

He began to weave his circle on the central piece of spinal column the largest part the circle would be the center piece. His feathers tip glided across the bone carefully, the intricacy of the weave that wove around coiling into a circle with lines that riveted across the empty legacy marks form.

Pan seemed to ask many questions even a few that made him curious.

"Yes the dormant Djed within the item is what we wish to draw out, extending the power of the individual there legacy unto the possessor of the item. As far as I know like most magics your only limit is imagination, I've always wondered what might happen with animated things like skeletons. Even Nuit like yourself are supposed to change hosts every now and again, I've often wondered if they were capable of self Malediction. A theory unproven although a very real possibility. The only downside that I've come across is that nothing is guaranteed, and when you mess with sentient creatures the game of steering the object becomes more difficult. Things like animals have similiar traits to work with, rodents are quick and agile, cats like leopards are stealthy. It gives some ability to predict the route you wish the item to go. However once steered you don't know what your going to get."

He took a deep breath and paused before asking him a question. He hoped he wasn't boring him with his indepth explanation on how he viewed this particular craft.

"What kind of property do you wish to try and tap into? What do you think would be proper?"

[Pandaemus]

The nuit was just trying to wrap his head around the pulser’s words when he surprised him with a question. Pan had not been expecting to be asked his opinion. He was a mere observer. Not even an apprentice as of yet. His knowledge of magic was passable at best, and this magic was completely foreign to him. But he was beginning to grasp an inkling of what the man meant.

“What me? Oh, let’s see.” Pan rubbed a cold finger across a dead chin. Though subconscious habits were hard to control, he quickly moved his hand away with a grimace. The feeling of his own undead touch still made him uneasy. “Well a wolf is historically an idol or what? Strength, Endurance, Cunning? Are these the types of aspects you imbue in the crafted items?” Pan asked, unsure of his reply.

“Or is it more a than that? Night vision perhaps? Or a sense of smell?” Pan realized he was asking more than answering. He walked around to the other side of the workbench Morvale was crafting at and leaned in close. His eyes traced the fine lines of Morvale’s ink, the dark iris’ searching for the mystery. This is the key to the art here? The drawing of these symbols, it draws out the djed?” Pan pointed, not wanting to touch anything lest he ruin the fellow wizard’s hard work.

“I cannot decide, Morvale. You are the crafter, and this is your art.” Pan relinquished the pressure of such a vital decision back to the man. His had drifted up towards his face, but the nuit clenched it and forced it back down by his side.

Excitement was splayed clearly across Pandaemus’ face. The wizard was eager to see another in action. He hadn’t had much exposure to even his own craft practiced by another. This new, fresh look on the manipulation of djed was indeed quite different. But it could be just as fascinating. What sort of power did the bones of the dead hold? Pan found his thoughts drifting to the man’s mention of self-malediction. But who would be mad enough to try that, the wizard had even said he could not determine the outcome with certainty.