Trivantis

It had been a quiet enough day. The usual coming and going of the dead. People needing his services. The human was new to the city. He had come with enough accreditation and when asked, had surprising knowledge of all sorts of funeral rites for various cultures, including the more obscure ones. All in all, he had a pleasant disposition, smiling kindly and offering words of kindness to those who had lost a loved one. There was no doubt when they saw him handle their dearly departed that he revered their remains.

Bodies were made ready for pyres, remains sorted out carefully and packaged if needed. All this was done with loving kindness and care, a gentle word, a touch. All of it was calculated for the man. He always wore a smile, nothing too overt but he removed it when the situation called for it. The observant would notice that it never reached his eyes. Some of the initial customers had been put off by his eyes, for they were milky white, but when he showed an innate knowledge of funeral rites and reverence, he won them over slowly with his tone and warmth.

When questioned of his school, he'd mention that he is a student from the Litharge, a Necropolis, trained in handling rites and he sought to bring his expertise elsewhere. He kept his blank book with him always, with words that appeared only to him and his eyes.

Of course those were for the paying customers.

Those who couldn't pay, paid in other ways, a bone here, energy taken from there. He ensured their remains were still taken care of. He still revered them but a little differently. Not enough to cause others to suspect him, but enough that those who could pick up such energies might suspect.

Still he was slowly getting the reputation as an undertaker who was willing to help inter anyone, regardless of their ability to pay and was always pleasant and knowledgable, putting the hearts of the loved ones at ease.

Wilbert held a candle as he walked along the libraries of the funeral home, running his fingers along the spines as he searched for a book on certain deities to update his own knowledge of how to handle it, should the chance come. A newly brought corpse laid on his table, awaiting to be wrapped up or so as per the family's request. A paying customer, so he wanted to be sure he knew what he was doing.

There was something else that his funeral services offered that others didn't... or few perhaps, a guarantee that he would ensure that the dead will be allowed to rest properly, some form of insurance against dark magics due to his training, although such a guarantee came with a hefty enough price that only the wealthy could afford.

Word had spread through the underground around a new caretaker for the deceased. Of course, to those sensitive to such things, the subtle ripples in the ether of the city were significant enough to notice long before the rumor mill could reach them. Such was the case with the feline Warlock, housed in his den in the slave markets deep beneath the city. Even sequestered as he was in the stone and brick of the city's deepest levels, the arrival of the magic newcomer had not gone unnoticed.

Whereas scrying for information on this new arrival would have been a simple matter, his attempts proved frustratingly fruitless. A more personal approach was needed. The lantern outside of his own shop went dark as he emerged into the usual bustling black market. He followed after his own inner senses, like a bloodhound tracking a ghostly trail.

His arrival to the funeral home brought a slight frown to his lips. In such proximity, he could discern more clearly the nature of the magic this one wielded predominantly. Necromancy, a useful art and popular among many for its obvious appeal to those of a darker nature, but one the feline found not so much to his liking. Never the less, he entered the establishment and wandered towards Wilbert, his eyes looking at the books and other errata that could be found.

"Hmm... a bit cleaner than I had expected", he said aloud. Not shouting but just enough to be heard clearly as he would come closer to the human. For now the feline wore his hood and covered his eyes in shadow. "...It seems I've found a true professional. What good fortune for the city", he continued with the sound of a slight smile hidden in his words.

The human was running through the books, searching carefully before he pulled one out. This was the one he wanted, the death rites of the Egypti. He had been instructed to follow them well, and the customer's family had paid a decent sum. He would ensure that it was properly done. The man's senses were not so sharp in the dim lighting and he looked up when he heard a voice. Milky white eyes glanced over the Warlock as he studied the feline, trying to ascertain his origin.

"Many thanks, it does well to keep the place clean for it dissuades those who might seek to feast on the dead. One has to ensure that the body is treated with proper reverence and it would do me no favours if rats and their like came. I'm afraid I'm tending to a customer at the moment but if you have a client that needs interring, I will be more than happy to help once I've wrapped things up here."

It was never urgent in his business. The dead were never in a hurry to go anywhere and it was usually awhile before the parasites found their way. His voice was light, wispy and pleasant, in an off-putting kind of way.

"And I assure you sir, I am a professional in all manners of rites and matters relating to the dead. I am Wilbert, Master Undertaker from the Necropolis of Litharge. How may I assist you today?" He asked as he placed the book at the side. His client could wait a while more while he dealt with this one. Wilbert leaned against the table, smiling gently.

The feline lifted his hands to clasp them together, causing bangles and bracelets to rattle as he did so. As he spoke, a subtle red glow shined in his eyes beneath the brim of his hood.

"A minor inquiry, I promise. To start, I have a question for you: do you handle the, ah... unclaimed dead? No next of kin, no given name or identity, that sort of thing..."

He reached up and pulled back his hood, revealing his face in full. He offered a smile as another faint flash of red shimmered in his eyes and pulsed in the markings on his face and neck. He let the hood fall behind him and allowed his hands to fold in front of his waist patiently. He glanced about for a moment, ears turning briefly as if to look for others nearby.

Wilbert glanced at the feline, listening quietly as he spoke. He was always silent and his movements still as if he was a statue or some sort of mechanism awaiting instructions. The white eyes blinked once in awhile, an indication that he still used them. The red glow was noticed but if it made him uncomfortable, or off-putting, he kept the placid smile present on his expression.

"Of course, it is a service I do for the people. There are those who cannot afford a funeral but their deaths should be treated with dignity they deserve. Allow me to finish up here."

The man took a cloth and covered the body on the table after muttering a quiet prayer. He went to gather some cloth to take along with him.

Volgun remained where he stood as Wilbert continued his work. He allowed his eyes to wander amid the stacks and shelves of tomes, books and other assorted codices. A few of them caught his eye, prompting him to crack a slight smile and nod to himself. There were a few familiar volumes in sight, though many of them lied outside of his preferred disciplines. Still, he was never one to turn away from knowledge. He walked to the shelves and plucked a book that he hadn't read yet, and cracked it open to one of the middle pages.

It seemed to be another tome on burial rites, with accompanying prayers. "Hmm... interesting", he murmured to himself as he flipped through more pages. He would continue to peruse the random book until Wilbert returned from his duties.

Wilbert finished up where he was. The way he handled his client was with care, talking to the body gently and informing it on what he was going to do. Soon the body was covered up and a slight protective spell was in place to deter pests. He made note of the feline's interest in his books, but they were just books. The more important ones were kept out of sight.

The man then wore a cloak about his shoulders before he went to fetch his hand pulled cart. It was covered in protective runes, etched with skill into the wood.

"And where might this client be sir? And how would you like me to address you?" There was no askance for a name. He didn't need one, but a way to address the other was needed.

"Oh no, I don't have a body with me. I was more curious if you had any with you at this time", he clarified as he closed the book. "...Not a bad read. Reminds me a little of some old book I found in the mage college. Crazy local scholar 'Al-hazred' or something like that...". He placed the book back before continuing. "...I am seeking discarded remains for the creation of essential salts, an important reagent for a client of mine. Their creation is a tad, well... gruesome, but they are vital to this particular work. When I heard about you and your own services, you sounded like you might be able to help".

He then paused before giving a wide smile, "Ah, but where are my manners? My name is Volgun. I am an enchanter and ritualist by trade, situated in the undercity market. If these books are anything to go by, you seem to practice the art a bit yourself. 'Tis always a pleasure to meet another who can comprehend such things". The feline offered a hand out for a shake.

Wilbert sighed and placed the cart away. "And here I was thinking I had another client in that sense," he said laughing as he shook his head.

"Perhaps... the name reminds me of places... I believe Babylon or Baghdad was their name. Very impressive libraries. Although I might get their names wrong. Very complicated rites depending on their class," he said as he took off the cloak.

When the feline spoke about the essences he needed, the man raised an eyebrow as he shook the other's hand. His own was cold to the touch. "A pleasure to meet you Volgun. I see. I thought I had hidden myself well enough... although then again I wouldn't expect myself to be hidden that well from what I've heard. Come then," he gestured to the other as he headed into the deeper parts of the home regardless if the feline followed.

He'd walk to a bookcase, where he rummaged through several books, pushing them aside before a 'click' was heard. A bookcase slid to the side revealing a doorway and he gestured to the other to step through.

Once in, it led to a small room, containing texts of a less savoury nature, detailing the uses of bodies and entrails and such, along with other necromantic books. On a shelf at a far end, stood a few drawers, with blank labels on them. There were wards placed about it, strong ones to ensure that no magic could be done in the room. There wasn't much of a collection really but he had something. He was starting after all.

"Now what do you need?"

Volgun took note of the man's frigid touch. One of the undead himself, perhaps? Curious, and appropriate for such work. The dead would naturally treat the dead with utmost respect. Until he could confirm such, he'd remain mum on the subject.

He followed the human to the hidden room, taking note of the meager stock. Made sense, with Wilbert's recent arrival. It would only be a matter of time before this place would be filled to the brim, the feline would wager. "...At least enough for a full cadaver. The process of reducing the body is lengthy, and what salts can be extracted are often scant". He thought a moment longer, "Hm... but, I can work with anything you have that isn't quite so fresh. The usual procedure involved mummified remains, but it's all the same to me". His eyes wandered as he spoke. He would have quite a day in here, even with his currently lacking understanding of Necromancy.

Wilbert was pretty much alive. He had a pulse but when one spent too much time around them and practiced such dark magics, some traits were inevitable. Some of the older masters of his looked like one of the corpses themselves at some point. If Volgun pulled a book out to look, the pages would be mostly blank, although their edges looked well worn and referenced. The main text was absent but there were scribblings in where the margins of a book usually laid. Those were written in common but were generic comments:

Refer to chapter 2.
Ignore, tribe has died out.
A cancelled line along the way, a name replaced.
Those sort of things.

"I suppose. These would be on the pricier range though. Rest assured I am an honest business man. One does not lie when dealing with the dead," the necromancer said. He'd pull open a drawer and select a few vials, the labels on them detailing the age and kind of person it had been, and a date. "The funds would go towards what they owe for a funeral."

Had to grin when he saw the vials. Time saved indeed with such things. "Ah, so you have some already prepared. Very well, but for what I am paying I might need something more specific. The best would be the remains of one who possessed magic in life. Scholars, sorcerers... but then, if we had that luxury, we wouldn't be able to barter them, would we". He paused to scratch his chin,

"Hm... quite a conundrum. Is there anything you might be able to tell me of these remains? Surely they were not complete mysteries to one such as yourself".

Wilbert looked at the other gesturing to the vials. "I'm afraid you're out of luck on that for these samples. At the moment these are those who were vagabonds, people whom no one cared for. For those of magic or scholars... I usually do not touch them unless they have no means to pay for the rites by their means. I do not deal with souls Volgun, but bodies... yes. The dead deserve their rest no matter how they have lived."

He held one up. "These are the remains of a child, abandoned by her mother at birth for reasons unknown. I found her in a sack in the river. She desires more in life."

The remains for that were small but the innocence it held was definitely worth a price.

"This is from an old man, who has seen much. I know not of his life but I sat with him during his last few hours, he told me tales of war. His hands were scarred and his eyes were familiar. He was alone and afraid. Perhaps you could be his friend for a while."

Wilbert picked another vial.

"This... this one... I do not know her. She was found beaten and bloodied in an abandoned woods. Her soul sought revenge when I revived her to hear her story. But for a chance to get back at her murder and assailant, she asked for my help... perhaps she might help you if you agree to help her.

Wil glanced at the other vials he had. "I do not seek to manipulate the dead, but certain paths have to be walked to bring peace to them... do any of these three possess what you need? And are you able to give them what they desire? I will not seek to turn my clients over without some form of assurance to their wellbeing."

Volgun's lips pursed as he listened to the tales of the souls captured in the small vials. The child was unfortunate, but she would not suffice. The old man, a possibility, but he was still not quite enough. The third one, the woman, however... she could be useful.

"...The girl. The third one", he replied as he reached into his robe, producing a bag of jingling coins. His smile endured as he opened the bag, producing a few silver coins in his paw. Not yet enough to cover the cost, but then again they hadn't discussed the price yet. "She's not quite what I sought, but I think she has potential. Violent deaths are tragic, but to the right kind of person such trauma can be a potent catalyst...". He paused a moment, lifting his eyes to the Necromancer. "...And with a little luck, we might be able to satisfy her final wishes".

Wilbert handed the third bottle over, keeping the rest back where they belonged.

"A lot of potential, yes, but the question is if it can be managed. Now her soul has crossed over, although there's still remnants in her body. Her assailant's blood I suspect. Or something of him or her. I'm afraid I'd have to decline the sale if it was on luck. The assurance I gave her was that she will be helped to be avenged and I intend to keep my word on it if you intend to use her. I deal with the undead or the bodies of the dead, not vengeful spirits. I am no medium nor priest," Wil said with a chuckle as he looked at the feline. He was a necromancer but he was definitely a guardian of the dead, albeit one who dabbles in the dark arts but he had quite a strict moral compass.

"Although I would be happy to come along with you on the hunt for her assailant. There are... certain things that can be harvested from this expedition should we undertake it. There would be something poetic if she is animated and killed them... but it is yours to decide."

He held the bottle out to Volgun. "What would you offer as payment? The only terms I'd have to stress on is that her last wishes be fulfilled of course."

The feline seemed to frown briefly as he listened to Wilbert stress the importance of honoring her final wishes. After a moment, he pursed his lips and gave a quiet nod. "...Well, if that is what must be done, then so be it. Not the first time I've had to do something of the sort...". He reached into his pocket for a decently sized coinpurse. "...I trust you take your payments in silver? As for the matter with the girl, I will see what can be done. I might not have the means to directly bring her back through her essences like this, but it may be enough for other methods. There are many roads to speaking with the dead, after all". He'd open the pouch and pull out a few silver coins, pressed into the local currency of Trivantis.

"...I surmise this means I will be speaking with you again soon, once this woman's final wishes have been met. It might help if you were to tell me exactly where you encountered her before her reduction into this vial". He held up the glass bottle. An entire life condensed into a bottle; he had to marvel at the gravitas of the object.

Wilbert smiled when Volgun agreed to it. It was part of his services that he promised the dead at times. Especially those who he knew whose essences held strength.

"Of course, payment is always welcomed," the necromancer said. "As for talking to the dead, my good friend, I handle the dead and I'm their gate keeper."

"I can tell you where I found her... but she can show you more."

The man walked away before he pulled out a device from the corner of the room. It was unassuming and clearly hand made, cobbled together into a contraption. There was a location where the bottle could be placed. If Volgun knew about things, this was a foci, a manner by which magical energies could be channelled to a single point at minimal effort.

"Now... this... this doesn't speak to her soul directly, but it draws on the memories stored in the essence itself. We will see her last few moments should you wish. This of course is free of charge... part of the service to my client."

He nodded his head to the bottle and gestured.

Volgun had used a number of foci for his own rituals, and recognized the device for what it was, though he would have been hard-pressed to discern the precise function of the fixture.

"Interesting... the intersection of divination and necromancy. I will have to pick your brain about this later. Figuratively, of course...", he said with a smile. He held the bottle out to Wilbert, his eyes remaining on the foci curiously. He would have to see it in action to get anything useful beyond its mere craftsmanship.

The man broke into a laugh when Volgun mentioned picking his brain apart.

"I'm afraid it's part of my training my good friend," Wilbert said before he took the bottle and placed it in the centre, adjusting a few knobs here and there.

Then the skeletal looking fellow took a deep breath and fracked his knuckles before focusing. Dark energies swirled about the man as he summoned forth his magic, channeling it into the contraption. The machine eagerly lapped up the magic, which manifested physically as dark mist as it swirled about the contraption. The mist fed into the pipes that covered it, directing it towards the centre around the bottle and amplifying its effects.

Soon enough, there were sounds of heavy breathing though nothing could be seen. But it was clearly a woman's breath as she ran. Her own footsteps could be heard. Far off somewhere, more footsteps, and a male's voice.

"Come out come out to play," a sinister voice spoke.

In the centre of the contraption, the mist shifted to show the night time in the slums of the city. It was hard to make out the details.

More running noises and then a thud noise. In the darkness, the only things that were seen were the eyes and teeth of her assailant. It was hard to make out further details. But it was a buff man, with an eyepatch. The smell of the salt and disease filled the room.

"Why must you run? They always run..."
There was a piercing scream, cut short by a hand.

The sounds became muffled now, as if something was covering, although they could still hear the girl screaming. Nothing could be seen but there were unsettling muffled sounds. Sounds of thudding, bones breaking, the woman gasping for air. Then silence.

Wilbert was silent as he studied the memory.

"I think that's it," he said quietly as he glanced at the cat, waiting to see his reaction.

Volgun's face darkened somewhat during the conjuration of the dead girl's last moments. His brow lowered and pinched as the smile faded from his face. As the magic faded and the bottle was returned to its original state, he sighed. "...There isn't much to go on, but I have worked with less in the past. I have a few methods of my own I might try, though I will need some time in my own shop to do so. For now, I will keep you informed of my findings".

He would take the bottle back, tucking it safely inside of his robe where it seemed to vanish entirely. "I have an inkling of where this might be, but as for who did the deed that is a challenge. I'm not entirely prepared for the prospect of hunting down and interrogating every dark-minded male in the poor quarter, but I know someone with a talent and predisposition for such cases like this...". He offered a smile to the man.

"Now I should take my leave. Much work to be done, and I will have to inform my client that his order may take a little longer to be filled. Still, I am sure they will understand the due to the dead".