Opening my eyes I look out onto the gray cloth of the tarp I set up. Thrashing my cloak a few times I spin it around onto my back. No alerts from the alarm spells and familiars. Feeling the brisk cold of the creek from washing my teeth and face I sit around the renewed fire. Perched upon my leg and shoulder are the ravens. The one perched upon my leg with blued steel feathers will be called Camillo. Pressing a finger upon the head of the raven I finish the final strands of magic that creates it and imprint the name. This will completely bind the newly created creature to me.

Petting the raven I feel the fineness of its feathers as it then starts to almost nibble on the fingers of my other hand. Bidding it to move over I move the one on my shoulder down and imprint it as well with the name Teige. This one immediately starts to peck at the cuff of my sleeve before hopping up my arm to return to its perch. Stirring the pot with the light meal I continue practicing the language. I have a route to travel, I should first get some more supplies and familiarity with the area. The identity of an apothecary first will be appropriate, then once I have finished my cover story I will be a mercenary.

Having finished eating my meal and cleaning up I take out the map and start plotting a course. It should only be a two day journey to the nearest town by foot. Perhaps a little less though I will need to make sure on the trail. Looking through the manual of medicine I see that things are quite primitive, a minimal section on hygiene and the absurd overuse use of bloodletting and body parts. Both the blood and body parts require special preparations with herbs to be effective, sometimes only parts with special considerations such as a specific mana density can be used. Well there is no use without such parts, I will have to be a mundane for a time then. The minority if still sizeable in the homeland, the majority here. The lack of implanted mana crystals will be of trouble to me, but the countermeasures will be for later. I will need time to get used to my new body, a few scant hours practicing the mannerisms and speech is not enough. Perhaps a few days here in this wilderness, then onto the civilized lands. It will take time regardless to pass through the wilds without even foot paths.

Coiling back the map into its case I turn to my horses. Removing the tether from them but enchanting the leather harness to ensure that they cannot go too far without coming back. They should have their time to rest before the journey. Moving to the pack with the mercenary gear I begin to practice. Being able to doff and don armour in the quickest and firmest manner is vital. Next is training in the armour. First was the sword, a sidearm but a necessary one. In the beginning was the practice of various cuts and thrusts. It was vital in sword use to always be aware of cult alignment during maneuvers.

Bundling a group of green branches together and constantly mending them through magic I practiced my skills. Not as effective for thrusts due to how ribs are aligned but it will suffice. Slashing with the tip to debilitate an opponent, hewing to deal severe damage. Drawing to bleed them, thrusting to pierce heavy hide or armour. A small pile of wood splinters gathers even as I mend the wood, good tinder for later once dry.

Creating a larger target with a log and multiple simulacrum limbs provides some grappling practice if very crude. Cutting where tendons and arteries would be on a human target. Next is magic practice on a particularly large boulder I moulded. When against foes the size of trolls a sword becomes less of use. Corroding the boulder, blasting portions off, cleanly cutting through, many ways of causing damage. When the dust gathers around it a particularly powerful blast of wychfire, fire tempered through necromantic energy(miasma) and it explodes for more effect. A foe is covered in metal armour, immerse them in water. Wash away foes encumbered by heavy armour, or mix it with miasma to corrode them away. Directly use miasma to sap their strength and age them. Magic is imagination and creativity, a dated phrase for the young ones. It has its place, but there are limits.

As I drill however my alarms are tripped, moving fast on all fours. Some sort of monster then, delicious. My feelings echo as my spirit sentinels emerge. Formed from fragments of my own soul and fed upon the flesh, blood, and souls of countless battles. They are shadows of myself, born for battle. Killing is a chore is one way I have heard it described, perhaps but one one has not fought in a long time they will miss it. What true warm up can happen without a fight. Wiping a little of the sweat away I leave one of them here while the other continues to wait. This fight is for me.

Striding through the undergrowth, I feel the push of leaf and branch against my in places. It is bright out and the light against the canopy of the trees gives everything a slight mirage effect. Nothing magical at all, not like the deepwoods of ancient forests. In only a few scant minutes I find what I am looking for. In the distance slinking slowly closer are wolves. Lesser direwolves from their size, unlike their more mundane kin these have the taste for all flesh and none of the cunning of their kin. For this they make it up in size and unflinching ferocity, only the hardiest of prey or the strongest may be let free. It appears that my presence shrouding wards are still as good as they should be.

They prowl in the underbrush, watching for a sign of weakness. More ferocious they are but even then they still observe. A seemingly single target, a slow one on two legs. Walking in a moderately forest area and without the great hooves or antlers of their normal prey. These ones seem to know a little of man though as they watch the staff in my hand. Sitting down on a convenient log and pushing my leg out as if examining it I feel them move closer. A slight cut and the scent of blood drives them into a frenzy. A few seconds of rapid movement and one rushes from the side. Pushing it aside with my staff the ready dagger with only a drop of blood now drinks its fill. Thrashing the blade to widen the wound it collapses wheezing from a lost lung.

Another rushes up and is slapped down by the metal point of the staff. A steel boot breaks its jaw as it scampers off in pain. Two more attempt to rush me at the same time only to receive a dagger through the eye and a sword through the chest of the other. The clunk of the staff is joined by the thud of their bodies. One darts in front of me growling while the wounded one joins it in bristling. It is the one from the side however that is the trouble. Casting a quick cantrip to send hardened stone into the distracting ones I pivot to the side as the third one rushes past. Raising my leg it trips in its rush and a sword through the heart ends its foolishness. The sound of heavy intakes of breath by wolven lungs as they growl their defiance is pointless. The two from before snap out of their stunned state and nip at my legs. Another boot to the injured one into the eye bursts it, another dagger ends the second.

Crouching down quickly with my leg still extended I feel the whoosh as the largest one yet flys overhead. Another one rushes me in the meantime and I kick off into a thrust through the heart. The slink of metal into flesh is familiar as always just as it is as I pull the blade out. One preparing to pounce collapses as it finds it strength cut by a black cloud and the alpha returns again. The wind howls as it streaks against the alpha and trips it onto its side in a vulnerable moment, its strength cut by miasma. A third dagger is thrust into its guts and ripped out in a wrenching motion. It howls its horror at the disemboweling as the few remaining begin to run. Here the earth sinks low and they trip as well, a slash tears the muscles of the nearest one. The other that is running takes a concentrated blast of fire to the head. The stench of spilt blood and scorched fur mixes. There are only a few remaining now.

Taking my sword I slay the severely injured one still in shock from the precise kicks to its head, the alpha growls its defiance and fear however as I walk to it. It attempts to rise only to collapse from blood loss. A neat swing of the sword and its throat is cut and it expires quickly. The few with daggers have them pulled out, if they still live they are ended. None of them escaped, dead from blade or magic. Retrieving my daggers I clean my weapons and armour of blood before it dries. As for the bodies, I drain them of miasma and then take a few of the more promising skeletons including the alpha. I could use a stock now, unfortunately I was not allowed to carry bones on myself. Dammed researchers and their object wards, too much of a risk to carry spare sets on oneself. Wearing a boot whose inner sole is made of gold and platinum is fine, but not uncrafted bones. Not to mention wyvern bones were rare enough, to mention dragon... I can start with the rawest resources again, my research is already done.

Many rouge necromancers go searching for hidden cairns or crypts to pillage bodies and souls, however enlightened necromancers know that keeping the soul of some random joe or jill paladin or other mighty figure in your troop is a recipe for stupid. Too much chance of rebellion for weak necromancers and those true masters of the craft are busy with more important large scale things. Getting some high quality pawn is nice but not when it takes too long and if it is truly a wonderfully strong one then who does not keep guards of some kind or other there an strong ones.

These are the small time necromancers who burn out in a blaze of glory by going mad with believed power and massacre a few villages. After their large zombie horde is up they slow down to a crawl and get hunted down by either a group of avenging holier than thou paladins or the local noble panics and sends for the biggest army with the promise of spoils of war. The smart ones lay low and create identities that allow them to move freely, there are many necromancers that are not public and are just biding their time for whatever objective they have. Ahh I believe the term for this is irony, to become like those I once hunted down. Well the methods matter less than the results, sacrifices are to be expected. Yes, this will be difficult. No immediate aid, away from any command structure above or below. Stilling my hand by touching the battered silver pendant around my neck to my heart I think on the matters to come.