The cities are the odd pockets of life within the Vast Dust. Almost every town without walls rests around cities, relying on them for protection and support in case of equipment failure. The relationship between cities and towns is an odd one, even within the Vast Dust, and most do not marvel at it due to how widespread it is. Towns give cities food, raw resources, manual labor, and an extra layer of security while cities give towns security, tools, and expertise outside the usual skillset of a townsperson. It’s a bit of an odd trade, if you ask me.

-Quote from Gelnak during a casual discourse on the ways of life in the Vast Dust

 

*=====*

 

Mori, looking around after a few minutes of walking, realized something, ‘I don’t know where the bazaar is, do I?’ She shrugged to herself, content with wandering around the city until she found whatevers she was looking for. 

The city was beautiful, she decided. The sandstone paths that were swept clean of any loose sand gave the streets a sort of ancient Egyptian feeling to the city. While her previous life was not one filled with interest in ancient Egypt, she must have preferred ancient Greece instead, Mori felt as if she would see a pharaoh parading down the street at any moment. The buildings, too, were fascinating to Mori. She was able to catch vague glimpses of ottoman domes mixed with greek-style columns and egyptian-style buildings that had a wider base than roof. 

As she enjoyed the sights of the buildings, she noticed how many gave her odd looks. Some simply took a glance at her and went about their day while others gawked and stared at her. It was very different from the reactions of the people from the docks she had told off a couple of days ago. It did not spoil her mood, however, as she was well aware of how odd a lich walking down the street must have been to others. 

After a while, she realized that she was well and truly lost. The buildings became a bit more run down and there were fewer people milling about, going through their daily lives. She thought for a moment that she had stumbled into a sort of slum, but there were no thugs ready to mug her, so she simply assumed it was a less well maintained part of the city. Unsure of what to do, she continued on her way for a while until she found an older man, an elf with platinum blond hair and in an oversized poncho, sitting in a rocking chair on the side of the road and in front of his house. His eyes, old and wizened, tracked her as she approached, “Um… do you happen to know where the bazaar is?” she asked the man. 

His clean, shaven face broke out into a smile as she spoke, “Heh, so you aren’t here to take me, huh?”

Mori tilted her head, “Excuse me?”

“You know, the angels of death!” he said with fervor, “the servants to the Great God of the Death Tides who take the souls of the soon-to-be-dead and brings them to His endless embrace.” 

Mor shook her head, “Sorry, old man. I may serve Him, but I am not an angel, nor do I send souls to him. Sorry to… disappoint?” she apologized. 

He waved her off, “Don’t worry about it, kid. Now that I think about it, aren’t you a lich?” he asked, pointing to her exposed ribcage where her crystalized soul was.

Mori shrugged, “So? Most people don’t seem that worried about it, oddly enough. Why is that?” she asked curiously. 

“Dunno,” the man said, “If you were some bloodthirsty monster, only I’d be left, awaiting His embrace. So, what’s it like, being a lich?” 

More made some non-committal gestures, sitting on a box to his side, “I don’t know? What’s it like being alive?”

“Ah, that old conundrum; how do you describe something if it’s the only thing you’ve ever known, huh? Well, to answer your question, I would say boring…” he replied. 

Mori giggled at his words, “I don’t think that’s a problem with being alive, more of a problem with having a boring life. I, for one, find my unlife exciting. I mean, I did revive only a week ago, so it’s not like I’ve had long to think about it too much. Maybe it’s just that I’ve already had three fights during this entire time. What do you think?”

The man gazed up to the rolling blue sky, “Meh. Seems like you need to take a break.”

“Why do you think I’m sitting here, talking philosophy with some random old man I just met?” she giggled.

The man’s mouth went wide with a grin, “I suppose so!” he laughed, “You caught on, didn’t you?”

“A friend of mine mentioned it in passing, said elves were pretty scatterbrained or used the stereotype to have some fun,” she said, grinning. 

The man matched Mori’s grin, “I suppose they must be pretty smart, then. If you want to go to the bazaar, then head down this street,” he said pointing the way she was going, “Then take a left, take the fifth right, then keep going straight until you hear a lot of noises. That’s the bazaar. Thank you for the discussion, young lich; most don’t want to talk to the old nutcase sitting in his rocking chair.”

“Not a problem,” Mori said, her grin still wide, “It’s nice to just talk with strangers once in a while. Thanks, old elf!” she called out, making her way down the street. She followed the old man’s instructions to a tee, passing more and more people as she walked. Soon enough, the streets were crowded enough to have traffic jams when someone’s metal cart broke down in the middle of the street. For whatever reason, most refused to come close to her and those who were pushed by the crowd near her gave off a feeling of anxiety. ‘Maybe it’s that I’m just too weird for most people? If that’s it, then why did everyone in Hard Sand barely care!?’ she thought indignantly to herself. 

While she found the desperation with which most avoided her annoying, she did have a large area around her where she could walk normally. After a long time of crowd-wading, she finally came upon the bazaar. She was stunned. A vague impression of Arabic markets came to mind, with brightly colored cloth strung up on metal poles. It also had the most clockwork machinery she had seen in one place. Large machines with grinding gears and glowing runes were placed intermittently, in about every fourth stand, and cranked away at whatever process they were built for. Apart from machinery, there were stacks of cloth, clothing, labeled boxes, metals, bullets, guns, swords, books, paper, tools, writing utensils, and so much more. “A shame I forgot to bring money,” she muttered to herself as the crowd, inexplicably, became much less reserved about coming near. The stares and odd looks persisted, but she could hardly fault them for that. 

After a while, she began scanning the buildings surrounding the massive square. It took a few minutes of walking, but she soon saw a three-storied building with a sign hanging above the double door. Music flowed from the building and it seemed to sink into her soul. ‘Mana,’ she thought. It was an odd mana, but let her soul devour the strange mana as it entered her ribcage. She noticed the words ‘Hunter’s Guild’ were written across the sign in red letters and the door was open. Without hesitation, Mori strode through the doors. 

The hall in the large sandstone building was richly decorated, with wooden floors and carved columns. The large hall she walked into was lined with stone tables and similarly sourced benches. Many people, whatever form they took, were sitting around, talking and laughing while a woman stood in the corner playing a melody on a stringed instrument. She tore her gaze from the people and noticed how the far wall from the door was dominated by a long line of iron boards, pieces of paper attached to the metal surface by magnets. To one side of the room, a counter stood with a few receptionists sitting behind it while the other was a large bar manned by a few bartenders.

As she took the room in, the room quieted and eyes drifted over, gazing at her. Mori, now thoroughly used to the gazes, ignored them. She walked up to the counter and stood before the receptionist, “Am I allowed to just take a request or is there a process to do so?” she asked. 

The young kobold man behind the counter shook himself from his stunned silence and looked at her up and down, “You need to take a basic proficiency test to be able to take tasks,” he began, “Seeing as you are… as you are, can it be assumed that you will be using necromancy to complete most of these missions?” he asked.

Mori nodded, “Yep. So far, I have eleven death knights, and… seventeen other zombies,” she said, looking at her Minion Page, “So, what do I need to do?”

The kobold did not answer, riffling around a stack of papers on his desk and pulling out a folder from the stack. He quickly went through the folder and pulled out a single piece of paper, which he then scanned, his eyes moving fast. After a moment, his jaw fell, “Wait, you mean to say that you have Eleven death knights?” he asked, loud enough for the now-silent hall to hear.

Mori nodded, “I did say that, didn’t I? We were planning on taking a few tasks to raise some money while our skiff is being upgraded. Is there something wrong with that?” 

The kobold leaned behind him and looked at his co-workers with a pleading look. They shrugged while he sighed, “I think this one is above my pay-grade. Let me go talk to the manager,” he said, quickly standing and running up the stairs. 

Mori could tell that the people were beginning to stir as they waited, but at that moment, a few of the hunters shot their gazes at the door as a cloud of blood coalesced into Aerolat. He took one look at Mori, then to the crowd of staring hunters, and rubbed his temples, “Mistress… was it really necessary to leave without Mr. Rilig. You are causing a scene…” he groaned, floating over to her. 

Mori shrugged, “Hey, I’ve got to stay busy!” she retorted, “Besides, if not now, then when?”

“When Mr. Rilig is ready to bring you here… he is running late due to a comment he made to Ms. Fara. He will be a while,” Aerolat explained. 

“I see… Is everything else going well?” Mori asked.

“It is. When I left, Ms. Fara was beginning preparations for the skiff upgrade while berating Mr. Rilig,” he said.

“Must’ve been amusing,” Mori snorted with a grin.

“It most certainly was. It seems that someone is here for you,” he said, pointing at the kobold receptionist speed-walking back to the counter. 

He nodded to Mori, his gaze lingering on Aerolat, and gestured behind him, “The manager is waiting for you,” he said. He began walking away and Mori jogged to catch up. Mori bitterly noted that Aerolat could simply float over the counter. After a short walk, they reached a wooden door, quickly opened by the receptionist, “The manager is waiting for you,” he said. The two entered the office and Mori immediately found it lacking compared to Buvich’s, as she expected. It was a small place, perhaps as big as a bedroom, and only had a single bookshelf, a desk, a chair behind the desk and two in front of it. The man sitting behind the desk was a large orc in basic working clothes.

The man, his blue eyes seemingly blazing, peered at them, “So, you’ve arrived. I do not like to waste my or your time, so let’s begin,” he said as Mori tooka seat. For whatever reason, Aerolat decided to stand behind her with his feet actually touching the ground. The orc’s eyebrow rose, but he continued regardless, “I was going to offer for you to prove that you have made a death knight in exchange for a necrohunter’s license, but that won’t be necessary, will it?”

Mori shook her head, “I don’t believe so, no. Aerolat?” 

He nodded, “It is nice to meet you, Mr. Manager. The mistress gave me the name Aerolat,” he said, tilting his head to the man. 

The manager nodded, filling out a few lines on his paper, “Alright, that’s that, then. What might your name be, miss lich?”

“Mori Athantos. Lich extraordinaire,” she said with a grin, the facial expression she realized was becoming her default state.

The orc did not look up, nodding, “Good then,” he said, handing Mori a blank sheet of clocksteel, “Head to the back and get your details stamped. Welcome to the hunter’s guild,” he said with a handshake and a bit of shooing. Mori and Aerolat found themselves outside of his office before they knew it, the door shut behind them.

“Well, that was easy,” Mori commented. 

“Be careful, mistress. One of these days, luck will run out and your skills will be tested,” Aerolat chided in a polite voice. Mori laughed as she walked further into the building, looking for wherever she could get her metal sheet stamped. Before long, they found a room with a medium-sized clocksteel machine. A man was sitting at a desk near it, reading.

The human looked up and closed his book, “If you got this far, then give me your sheet and we can start,” he said, prompting Mori to hand over her metal sheet, “Alright, name?” he asked.

“Mori Athanatos.”

“Age?”

“Um… a week?”

He looked up at her, then looked back down, “Occupation?”

“Lich extraordinaire!”

“Species?” he asked, ignoring her enthusiasm.

“Monkey.”

He looked back up at her, “Please be serious. Monkeys are shorter.”

“Lich.”

“Lastly, skill set?”

“Necromancy, Sigil casting, some mechanical stuff, rune casting, and- no, that’s all.”

He nodded, writing all of her answers on a sheet of paper. He stood and walked over to the machine, quickly fiddling with it before runes flared and he pressed it down on her blank metal sheet. He handed it back to her after retrieving it from under the press, “Please do not lose it. They cost twenty chips to replace.”

Mori nodded, looking at her new license.

Necro-hunter Permit

Name: Mori Athanatos

Occupation: Lich Extraordinaire

Species: Monkey Lich

Skill Set: Necromancy, Sigil casting, Mechanics, Runic casting

As she left, she stared at her species, “Seriously?” she asked no one in particular.

“Always respect the office workers,” Aerolat said in an enlightened tone, “They hold a great deal of power.”

Mori rolled her eye-flames, “You’ve been listening to Zubov too much,” she said, “Keep doing it.”
Aerolat smiled, “I will, mistress.”