Long ago, in a great valley to the west today known as Connlaoth, there was the Nosferti, and in this time millennia ago, they were supreme among all.
Mighty was their reign, theirs was a bastion of mortal achievement over engineering and magics, they could not be contested, and few would dare to even attempt to.
Past their height, fat in a debauchery that always came to such places of sovereignty, their hubris grew as tall as their towers that loomed so great that it was said even far away Essyrn fell under their shadows.
It wasn't until the unexpected power of Angsar rose, that threat was finally given to them.
With the hearts of many supporting his great culling of those of arcane attunement, Angsar's Crusade had finally come to the Nosferti, to cull the corrupted wizened that held dominion of so much of the land.
In their final days, the once proud empire knew so tragically little of their impending doom, for how could but one man pose so much a threat to those who were nigh unto gods?
"Master Dhalekar, forgive the intrusion upon your preparation, but you had requested to be informed when the visitors from Essyrn arrived to the city..." the voice of old Girn cracked dryly across the room from the threshold. A scribe for the Collegiate, however attached into the service of he who he called master, Girn was an excellent valet, and though a slave he was in all technical sense of it, his was a most glorified position among his kind. He had but a single, baleful eye that missed hardly a detail that came under its gaze, and he made up the lack of a second with a third hand, attached at the end of an atrophied limb from under his heart, supported by long bronze instruments that aided his control over the otherwise deathly thing; it held a quill surprisingly well.
Dhalekar had been busy studying his newly reshapened flesh in a mirror upon stone wall, gilded in copper and gold filigree. His age was catching up to him, but fortunately, being a seated councilor in Nosferti's governing host of mages and scientists, known by all simply as The Collegiate, he had come into the access of an impish man by the name of Lecre, who knew the patterns that living skin would cling unto the meat beneath, and now Dhalekar enjoyed such labours, free of the many wrinkles his station and personal works would curse his form with, though it was only so long before the illusion would reveal him; when age would claim his life as it did with all men. A problem that Dhalekar personally spent himself into correcting. "Girn," he called to his servant in a voice that rang as if almost part of a song; the effects of the mage's own dabbling in sonimantic study. "I am certain I need not ask you to make their accommodations beyond satisfactory; you know how they think so highly of their little sandcastles." he smoothed his hands over the fine silks tailored for his form; a gift of tribute from a recently enslaved village of particularly talented silk farmers. He turned to the ancient scribe with a grace that pulled his attire in an almost otherworldly perfection. "How did their daughters catch that eye of yours? Tell me I have no need to call upon Lecre for them."
Girn fumbled at his cracked lips. "Well Master... There
is a woman with them, but-"
"
A woman?" Beautiful as it was, the emphasis in Dhalekar's voice rose up as if it held back a sinister tempest. "I was specifically to understand that the Vizier had at least
three youthful maidens to present to me for my inspection...! Surely word of explanation was given for this insult?"
Girn bowed his head, to where Dhalekar viewed upon a mass of sickly white curtain of hair over the scribe's gray and yellow robes. "There was. To his words, three of his daughters had originally traveled with him, but were eventually turned back out of fear of safety. It appears-"
"Their safety?" Dhalekar gave a mocking scoff. "No land's roads are as safe as Nosferti's; even our dead still make constant patrol! What a timid fool; and still he dares to arrive to arrange such an important marriage?! No, certainly his daughters are so ugly even the skinweaver cannot aid them. If he thinks he can trick me into marrying so poorly, to move all the way to his wretched dunes only to find a trio of cross-eyed
cows, I shall make his dreams realize in such wretched form that he will beg me to end his days in my experiments!"
Finding a pause in Dhalekar's graceful outrage, Girn spat in a few more words. "They feared of Angsar and his men, master."
Dhalekar's eyes fluttered to close, and light fingertips touched upon his brow as he let out a most annoyed sigh. "So he
is a coward then... Angsar; the brute from the east. Is Essyrn so weak in these days that they fear such bothersome barbarians? Perhaps moving there would be a great mistake after all, either that or a great boon... If they hold so much fear in their hearts, it may prove an easy stage for my own ascension. If only I could learn of their methods without having to achieve familial ties; would this be so difficult?"
Girn's head remained bowed. "I do not know, my Master."
A scowl "Of course you don't know- begone of you, Girn! I've yet even more cowards to attend to. Tell that sniveling sandcrawler that I shall send summons within the week."
Dhalekar did not wait for acknowledgement. He knew Girn would carry out every suggestion to the letter, and with trusted discretion when the situation called for. In comely stride, the wizard carried himself to an arched alcove etched with a myriad of icons in his chambers. Along with a small amulet around his neck, the runes began to glow as he neared the alcove, and as he passed the threshold, light made a dance of chaos as he found himself in an entirely different place. Young servants already kneeled down beside a table, a set of tea and fine, delicate foodstuffs awaited him in his personal interior balcony within the council chambers. Their greeting was silent in contrast to the great din of blathering mages in the impossibly enormous hall. His was but one of forty-two other stone balconies that dotted the walls of the cylindrical court. Dhalekar eyed the individual banners that hung languidly below each one. Forty councilors, one balcony for the scribes, and then one for the Head Master; currently Chakedri of the college of enchantment. Dhalekar popped an engorged and altered grape between his teeth, already bored of their magically enhanced flavorings as the juices exploded in his maw. Herazril spoke now, no doubt having already turned a lengthy introduction into some plea for support of his House. He watched the illusionary image of the man speak in exaggerated size and volume in the center circle by the court's dais upon the floor.
"- and it is by this urgency, my fellow lords, that action
must be taken! How are we to function with the perfection that we all demand of ourselves, if we stand by to allow uncivilized
raiders to simply take our lands? How can you benefit from my contributions if I am constantly forced to mitigate from my losses? I have already lost two holdings, one of them prized for it's learnings of metallurgy to our archives!"
"Oh yes, your new wondrous 'iron alloy'" the image, and voice of Herazril had shifted to match that of Nebratos, a known political enemy of the former. His tone was deliciously mocking. "Such contributions, good Herazril, are still far from proper testing - we've seen far too many 'discoveries' of new metals crumble once their enchantments fade. If your holdings held such grand achievements, surely you would have done something about these 'uncivilized raiders' you and your friends groan about. Clearly you are simply seeking for others to dip into their pockets in order save your own - as you've done before no less! I say none of us should suffer for your inadequacy of economics, Herazril! Kill your treasurer, and have him more wisely replaced!"
"No, these are no mere barbarians, councilmen, but something far worse!" Another image, another voice, this one was Ataren, whom earlier had annoyed Dhalekar with his bleating concerns. As he spoke, Dhalekar gripped a bronze rod at the lip of his balcony, which hummed to signal to the Head Master that he wished to speak. "They say that this Angsar rides in crusade!" Ataren continued. "That this man and his army wish to make our lands his! All of our lands! They had breached the Bone Wall as if it were nothing!"
Dhalekar felt a tingling in his palm around the rod, and quickly his essence took a projected form at the dais in place of Ataren as the others had done. He called out. "The Bone Wall has been unattended and without support for over fifteen years. Had the council listened to prior concerns, this Angsar, crusader or otherwise, would not have had so much success against it. The college of necromancy stands that Herazril's failure to take proper care of his holdings are at no fault of ours. I propose that Herazril funds the expenses of what aid the council deems worthy to send against this Angsar, and push the army back beyond the Bone Wall. With proper support, the Wall will put an end to these upstarts' crusades; let them starve themselves into disbandment then!" He looked upon the Head Master's balcony as he spoke his faction's proposal. He noticed a strange figure standing by the elderly Chakedri, someone the necromancer did not recognize; and he knew all of the Head Master's advisers. Dhalekar felt his hand let go of the bronze rod back on his balcony, and he returned to his body as another image took to the dais.
The next speaker spoke on about some concern of this Angsar possessing some ability that overcomes magic somehow. Dhalekar had heard the same. The Bone Wall, the masterpiece of his college, a shifting barrier of spirits that wailed at the coming of unexpected guests to the valley of the Nosferti would suck the souls right out of those who would pass through it uninvited, and add it to their expanse around the mountain passes. It was told to him by another necromancer that Angsar had not only passed through the Bone Wall, but even stood within it, pushing it back somehow and allowing his army to pass by him through it. It was shockingly alarming to him, but he would not dare to admit such to the council, who would eagerly take advantage to turn some of his hard earned favor to their own doorsteps. No, this was a time for a more careful plan. Marry into the Essyrn houses, learn from their bizarre 'mummification' ritual of what he could for him to add to his studies of the nature of immortality, and let this mess with Angsar blow over in his absence.
More echoing prattling went on; one councilman after another. Some even called for a more liquid union between the colleges, but they were quickly struck down in mockery by the more affluent members. Dhalekar mostly just stared at that stranger by the Head Master. Surely the others thought it's presence was strange as well, but no one would make such an obtuse question of it in this setting. Eventually, it was decided that neighboring lords by Herazril will help bolster his defenses in order to more fully observe Angsar's conquest in order to see if further reaction is warranted. Observance, of course. All the more reason to find prompt egress for a pleasant stay in another kingdom. A warm one with beautifully dark complexioned women. Dhalekar stepped back through the runed alcove, and found himself once again in his chambers. Girn was nowhere to be seen. Finally alone again, Dhalekar returned to his mirror, inspecting his new skin again.
"No daughters... This is going to be a very dull meeting..." He spoke in a drawn out, noble's complaint.