Rumors of mummies kidnapping unwary travelers, talks of an ancient god resurrecting and gossip of an ancient cultist behind it, all of these attracted Tacitus Silanus, leader of a rather small clan of warriors, to venture to the "forbidden place" everyone warned him about. He and 15 of his finest soldiers arrived to the famous "Aestas Outpost", hoping to join with the pioneers and military forces that were supposed to be awaiting there. When he finally arrived, the general was slightly dissapointed… It was simply not what he expected.

If all the talk about mummies, undead, ghost horsemen and ancient revivals of ghosts was true, then Silanus expected to see a settlement full of troops and warriors, preparing a counter-offensive or some sort of thing. "Perhaps all the rumors we heard was simply hogwash, nonsense?" said one of his companions. Instead of fortified stone walls and barricades, he saw tents and benches. Instead of warriors and troopers, he saw injured people, scholars and local villagers. Was this supposed to be a line of defense, a center of operations? What sort of operation would they do with this manpower? Of course, there was the occasional volunteer, soldier and fighter… Maybe the rumors were simply exaggerations, overstatements, and therefore the small amount of armed people was enough to keep the undead at bay?

"Disperse men, ask the locals what the combined might of 15 warriors help at here!" Ordered Silanus, with only 2 of his troopers accompaining him now, as the rest scattered around and asked for instructions to the local sentinels. "Who's in charge of this mighty fortified military garrison, full of warriors and warlocks?" He asked to a crowd, with a sarcastic voice tone. "I, Tacitus Silanus himself, am generous enough to volunteer myself and 15 of my finest men to this cause… If there is any cause, of course." He added once again, speaking seriously now.

An alchemist's work was never done when there were few healers on hand and more lining up for treatment. The heat and the constant sandstorms was wearing people thin, as supplies were dependent on the routine arrival of caravans. They were getting by well enough, for now. Word of a group of armed men entering the encampment spread quickly as the local guardsmen were going about. Apparently some private militia thought to come in to join the efforts. More men at arms was always a welcome thing, provided they didn't bring more trouble with them.

Stepping outside, she was accosted by a rather brusque individual in heavy armor. "You there! Who's in charge of this camp? Our general requests an audience with them!" Prying her arm from the man's grasp, Liselotte breathed in slowly. In this situation it was best to answer quickly and get this over with. "At the moment we have several groups working together to keep Aestas running. There are a group of scholars from Iria's Mage Academy and Arri's healers under the Goddess of Life. The rest are mostly volunteers who fill in whatever roles are needed. If you want to speak with her she's busy at the moment healing necrotic rot inflicted by the walking corpses that mosey around." She conveniently left out the fact that chances of meeting the woman when she was working would be low, but so far she had given him answers.

The man left when she pointed to where the makeshift hospital was, and went to check on the storehouse when she saw a man with two others in full armor. He must be the leader of the men who had come in. The armored man expressed his disbelief that this place had real purpose, speaking as if he wanted a challenge. "The gates have wards to repel the undead. You've probably seen them on the way in. If you're looking for a real fight, I suggest waiting for nightfall. Or you could start with that stone city with the pyramid in the distance there." She then added, "Oh and I suggest you avoid taking any casualties. If any of your men were to die outside the outpost, their souls will be stripped from their flesh to feed the growing numbers of undead infesting Aysut." 

"How convenient" Tacitus Silanus thought, when he heard that the camp was protected by magical wards. A good way to defend the place without taking any casualties seemed much better than wasting guardsmen on nightwatch roles. Silanus and his companions pointed their attention to the woman who spoke to them. She seemed rather important, as she had good knowledge about the camp, and managed to answer their questions and doubts. At last, someone who they could talk with, and not the passing commoner!

"A challenge?" Asked Silanus, who seemed to be slightly dispelased by such term. "We are not here for a challenge, darling… We are here to provide our unpretentious, honest aid!" As he finished saying these words, his displeased face dissapeared, and a slightly arrogant smirk took place instead: "However, dear, if you want we can pack our spears and leave, since it seems you are already doing magnificently splendid!" Said the general, referring to the wounded people and evident lack of supplies. "Although your offer of going alone against an army of undead seems alluring, I must say we shall pass…!" As he ended speaking, he made a quite haughty pose, hiding his right arm under his elegant, red cloak, which was covered by sand; his companions chuckled behind him when they heard his words.

Now, with a serious expression, Silanus whispered to his nearbiest soldier "Where are the damn leaders of this gods-forgotten shack? They should be on their knees, thankful of our modest act!" The general suddenly walked towards the girl, then spoke to her once again: "You, sweetie, what's your name? You seem to be the only informed person of this gods-forsaken desert…! I shall present myself, I am Tacitus Silanus, leader of the professional army you see here! Do not bow or kneel, it is not needed right now, thank you though!" Once again, an arrogant grin was drawn on his face, just like before. "Is there nothing that such fine men as ourselves can do, instead of going to a certain death against some paper-wrapped zombies? Please don't tell me we came here in vain… The leaders do not even seem to attend us!" As he spoke, his arrogant grin slowly turned into an upset face. 

Business had been as slow as ever for Arannis. He was contemplating leaving back to Iria City, when he felt a disturbance. An intense magical wave radiated out from the desert. Arannis had hoped to avoid being drawn directly into any of this nonsense, but at this point he had no choice. When the military commander entered the camp demanding to see the leaders. Arannis finally acted. He stood and took down the “healing services” sign from his tent. He pocketed the meager silver he had collected from the few visitors. It was a shame, really, Arannis had thought this would have been a lucrative business opportunity. He packed the tent and all the fixings away and then walked up to the armor-clad man.

The desert was hot and uncomfortable, especially with Arannis’ fine layered garment. A simpler outfit would have been more efficient in the heat, but Arannis prefered to maintain his image. He approached the swordsman who had made a call for arms and began to speak, “I am willing to lend a hand. I am a mage of varied talents, and will assist you and your men against this threat. It has gone on for too long.” Arannis’ accent was the crisp and cultivated style of the nobility, but it had a hard edge to it. None of the softness a life of luxury would suggest, but a sharper tone that suggested a man who had seen vast destruction and death before.

Arannis stood calm and proud as he unflinchingly locked eyes with the young man. It had been years since Arannis had been in the field, but he had lost none of his cold resolve. He would end this, brutally and efficiently. He had no desire for the riches or the glory of it, but he would end this threat nonetheless. Once it was dealt with, Arannis could return to his research, to what really mattered. However, Arannis would need to play things safely. It wasn’t like when he was young and set out into the world as an adventurer. He had responsibilities now. Arannis would do his best to ensure a quick and decisive victory. Preferably with little loss to his side. The more walls of flesh and steel between him and the hordes of undead, the better.

“If you would allow me to inscribe a protective rune on the armor of each of your men,” Arannis queried, “it would greatly ease the coming battles.” The process would not take long, and it would fortify the soldiers against any. . . accidents. . . that could occur with Arannis’ plan.

The man wasn't doing much to hide his poor attempt of covering his mercenary nature. Nobody who offered 'unpretentious, honest aid' ever used that exact wording. Either way, if they desired to help then they might as well be given directions. Crossing her arms, she kept her expression non-confrontational and tone pleasant. "Liselotte, sir. Everyone who comes here generally looks to see where help is needed and applies themselves accordingly, though this might be too disorderly for an armed regiment like what you have here." Again, that tiresome arrogance. The people were already back to their jobs, as they didn't have time to stand around and gawk. "Whether you feel you have come in vain is up to you. As for the leaders, the Goddess of Life and her husband the God of Knowledge are currently attending to the injured. I doubt you'd be interested in extracting flesh-eating beetles and bandaging wounds." 

When another of the independent healers from elsewhere came up to speak with the self-proclaimed general, Liselotte took that as her cue to take her leave. She wasn't interested in continuing that conversation. Maybe acting a bit more sincere in their 'humility' would earn them more information. The medical ward was full at the moment, so she went to check on the stables. The general policy in Aestas was to help when it was needed and cover for others when they were indisposed. The outpost guards had the difficult job of maintaining order and keeping watch during the hours of the day, so whoever was in charge of inventory and miscellaneous tasks varied by the day. Fetching water for the mounts, she poured it into each of the troughs, then returned with their feed. Each were given the same amount, no more and no less. They couldn't afford to be wasteful, even with the Goddess of Life here.

"Goddess of Life and God of Knowledge, how absurd!" Thought Tacitus Silanus, after hearing her words. The only divines he believed in were the ones of his town, of his people, of his ancestry! The antique, non-existent gods… Nonetheless, for him and his brethen, the normal gods were the fake ones! Although she was doing her best to not be rude, it was quite evident that this "Liselotte" was quite bothered by his presence; however, the general could care less if she liked or disliked him and his troopers. He was here to increase his clan's reputation, to earn them a name… To claim the glory!

The mage who arrived to talk to Silanus had a much more helpful nature than the alchemist… He even offered to go with them! Finally, a valiant man, not frightened to get his hands dirty. He seemed to be of noble nature too, as suggested by his words and clothes. His offer to help and to enhance their armours was most welcomed by the men. "Go on ahead, improve our equipment…" Said the leader. After a brief moment of silence, Silanus added: "I'm a battlemage myself! Skilled with enhancing spells, mostly." Silanus saw that Liselotte left… "What a pity!" he exclaimed when she left. "A healer might help us against these mummies…! Nevertheless, no doubt such a dainty girl would be scared at the thought of helping us, am I right, fella?" Mentioned the general to the noble healer. Not only would her abilities as a healer help, but she was quite the eye candy Silanus enjoyed gazing at, to kill time…!

The swordman extended his arm, ready to salute the healer, then asked: "I am Tacitus Silanus, leader of the Fratian clan! What shall be your name, fellow?" If this man wanted to help Silanus and his companions, then he was already one of his friends! As he finished speaking, most of his men returned and reported back to him.

“I am Arannis Falone,” Arannis simply replied to Tacitus’ question. He began to calculate exactly what he would need for this spell. He knew the base rune he needed, but the base wasn’t enough. He needed to entwine the base with other runes to channel the proper powers and energies to achieve his desired effect. He thought through his library of scripts. He could mix alphabets, pull from Primordial or even Celestial, but it would likely be better to remain in pure Infernal. He thought carefully of the interplay of the angles and equations, combined with the symbolic meanings of the runes. Together they would knit a fabric of a properly woven spell. If any component was wrong or mismatched, then the fabric would be weak and tear easily. Properly designed however, the spell would hold strong. The structure finally designed, Arannis got to work.

Arannis moved from man to man within the squad. Before each, he pricked a finger and drew an Infernal rune in his own blood. A tiny breath of will into each rune charged it to the effect Arannis required. The practice would likely be considered suspicious by many, but it was necessary ritual. Without the protection Arannis’ runes offered, his plan could backfire and slay more allies than foes. With the protective magics that Arannis was weaving, the chances of accidents were next to none.

Arannis constructed each sigil with the utmost care, ensuring each line and each angle was perfect. Each rune on each of the men was identical, etched in Arannis’ dried blood. There was a certain beauty to the mathematics behind this kind of runecraft. Few appreciated the subtle sciences behind magic. Even those who cast spells in formulaic manner, with ritual and incantation, didn’t bother to understand the underlying mathematics behind those formula. Arannis had dedicated his life to this kind of study. The core of his research was the mathematics behind the magics. Teleportation magic was the most reliably reproducible when set up in proper rituals, it made the ideal test subject for this kind of work. It also lead to interesting discoveries in its own right.

As Arannis worked on his rituals, he asked Tacitus, “What’s your story? I’ve not seen many with your style of gear in these parts.” It was an odd assortment of gear and styles. It was unlike that of either Iria or his homeland, and like nothing he’d seen on the adventurers in the camp.

“I myself am a humble researcher,” Arannis explained, “I specialize more in teleportation than proper offensives, but I also dabble in healing.” Arannis punctuated his words with a minor healing spell that closed the wound in his finger and restored some of the color to his flesh. He approached Tacitus himself and opened the wound once more. He drew the rune and powered it. Finally, Arannis looked around to see if any others were also coming on the venture. He doubted the alchemist would join the expedition after the boorish treatment she received from the warlord. Tacitus’ behavior was shameful, but the man seemed useful, and so Arannis would work with him.

Because Tacitus and Silanus had few experience with mages and the like, watching Arannis perform his ritual and cast his spells was quite impressive for them. They could not understand a single thing he did. "Arannis Falone… Your name is quite similar to ours. To our clan's name." Spoke Silanus. "Perhaps your ancestor met my ancestor?" Said the swordsman, as he watched Arannis perform his rituals. "Heh, doubt it. Our clan had always been small, both in territory and population." After he ended the sentence, the general quickly added: "Small but mighty, of course!" Arannis seemed to be of noble blood, which made Silanus have a better opinion of him. Plebeians were not of his likeness.

"My story, you ask?" Said Silanus. "I come from the remnants of an ancient family, of an ancient clan! This is the armor they fought with hundreds of years ago, the swords, and the same equipment. We are their last remnants, so we must preserve their culture." One could easily look the pride in Silanus' eyes as he spoke about his noble ancestors. "I must admit, our weapons and armor is slightly inferior to the modern plate armors… But, what we lack in armor we compensate it with battle tactics, streght, agility and cunning performance!" When the general finished talking, he tapped the steel of his sturdy armor. "I am the proud leader of the Fratis, a small, but mighty and quickly growing clan." 

It was surprising to see Arannis cut himself, then simply curing his wounds. Although Silanus was learning the art of restoration and healing magic, he was still an adept battlemage. His main focus were defensive spells, so he could perform better in melee combat. "humble researcher" thought Silanus… He didn't seem too humble. The runes seemed to be done and both the general and his henchmen observed their armors. They felt… Quite different. They could not help but hope this "difference" would turn combat in their favor. "Are we done yet, Falone? It looks like you finished. I will punish… maybe even crucify whoever is behind this madness. You have to respect the dead, the fallen mortals and their forever-resting spirits… With your help, Falone, the Fratians will be honoured as the peacekeepers of this gods-forsaken desert!" 

Arannis shook his head with a chuckle when Silanus proposed their ancestors might have met, “I am doubtful out ancestors knew each other. My family is from a very faraway land, I doubt you’ve heard of it.”

The soldier went on to boast about his people. Now that Arannis looked again, many of the warriors seemed to be in gear that was very out of date. They would likely not last long against the undead horde, no matter how confident their ‘proud leader’ was in the tactics of his ancestors. It was foolish overall. At least these soldiers, once they left the camp, would serve to slow down the undead from coming near here; their deaths would still serve a purpose.

When Silanus finished his explanations, Arannis replied, “Your people sound like a mighty culture indeed, I am honored to make acquaintance of such capable warriors as yourselves. Perhaps when I publish my next tome of history and lore I might tell the tales of your clan? Spread their legacy further.”

Most of Arannis’ statement was a lie, but the words flowed as smoothly as they always did. It would take an empath of significant ability to discern when Arannis Falone was lying, and this man clearly lacked any such depth of empathy. However, he was sincere in his musings on including the tales in a history book. Such a tome could catch attention and sell quite well.

The soldiers seemed to admire the runes Arannis had drawn, and Arannis had to contain his amusement at the sight. They had no idea what function the runes performed, yet gazed upon them with wonder. If nothing else, these men would likely fight with greater confidence, so sure they were that they were magically protected.

With the protections in place, Arannis reached out into the desert with his will. He called to mind the True Name of the beast he had previously summoned, and sought out its essence. Arannis smiled as he was successful, the beast was still alive on this plane. He could call it to him at a moments notice now, without needing the power expenditure involved in tearing open a portal between this plane and the far reaches he had originally called the beast from. The pieces of his plan in place, Arannis turned to Silanus and said, “Shall we commence, Silanus?”