Bonewright's page

I will always remember the first time I saw a Bonewright. My father saw it while out hunting in deep winter, and had immediately offered it hospitality - he knew that a Bonewright was bound by the Guest Laws, and my father was chief, so we were all safe as soon as he offered it food and shelter.

I was fifteen, but I marvelled like a five year old. The Bonewright was six feet tall, thin, pale and white. It bore a strange staff of bone, wore a skull of some fantastical creature on its head, necklaces of bone on its chest, bracers of bones on its arms and legs, a skirt of thin cloth and a single white bearskin cloak, thrown back. It walked barefoot through the foot deep snow, not even seeming to notice the cold. There was something odd about the bones, and as it came closer I realised that all of them were carved with intricate carved patterns and scenes.

While it approached my house, the Bonewright saw me staring.
"What do you want, little lion?" It asked. I saw its lips move, and I heard its whisper in my ears, but no-one else seemed to hear it, and it must have been a hundred feet away, through a gathering crowd.
"What is a lion?" I whispered, to myself. But it heard me, all those feet away, and its head cocked like a Raven's.
"A strange answer. Do you prize knowledge so highly, then?"
It was said that Bonewrights wandered the world looking for two things. Answers, and bones. They were reputed to collect bones because they could hear the words of the dead through them.
"Should I answer that, or ask another question in turn?" I asked, whispering, and the Bonewright snarled - or grinned - revealing sharp, pointed teeth.

The whole tribe gathered to host the Bonewright. When my father asked it why it had come, it answered "A Bonewright died here. I heard its call and came. Where are its bones?" At this my father looked troubled, but denied there was a Bonewright's bones here.

That night the Bonewright started walking in circles, ever widening. No-one knew what he was doing. After three hours he stopped, and pointed. "Here." He scraped away the snow, then pointed at the ground, and a pit opened before him, slowly deepening. Most of the tribe scattered, but I stayed. Within the pit were bones - many bones. Some were human, some were not. The Bonewright stopped, squatted and looked in for a long time, fiddling with his bones and the bones in the pit. "Ah. Yes. I knew this Bonewright. It says it came here in peace twenty two years, three months, and seven days ago. It was a guest. He says someone hit him from behind, and he died."

Standing the Bonewright looked at my father who quickly interjected "There was a Bonewright who came when I was a boy - but he left." As he spoke the tribe started to gather.

"What say you?" the Bonewright asked the Bones. Suddenly a glowing humanoid figure rose from the bones. Turning to the crowd the Bonewright shrugged and said "He says he is free now. He will have his vengeance." With that the Bonewright started to take his leave of my father. From in the crowd someone yelled out "It was Johd. He did it when he was drunk!"

The Bonewright turned and looked at the man "You all covered it up." then he turned to my father and started to say farewell as a cacophonous scream started. "Wait!" my father said "You are a guest! you cannot hurt us!"
"Ah," replied the Bonewright "True - but I will not. I will simply walk away."
Then my father did something clever "By Hospitality I can ask you to assist in need - I ask. Stop that thing"

The Bonewright stopped.

"I cannot stop it. I suppose I can tell you how to stop it, though."
"How?" demanded my Father, backed by the crowd.
"Give his bones to a Bonewright - me I suppose. Then replace them with the bones of this Johd, and bury those." Over his shoulder he spoke casually to the crowd nearest the glowing figure, slowly moving towards them "I wouldn't let it touch you" he warned. The crowd retreated.

"Johd isn't dead!" said my Father.

The Bonewright was silent.

The crowd grew still, and quiet as they watched the glowing figure moving.

Johd was found hiding and passed out drunk. The Bonewright refused to touch him, as that was against guest rights. My father killed him. Laid him in the grave. Then the Bonewright whistled. At first nothing happened, but then there was a beating of winds, and what seemed like a hundred ravens came out of the dark. They surged over the figure for a time, then flew away. Below was Johd's skeleton. The figure of fire vanished. The grave was closed, and the Bonewright once again said farewell.

I trailed him. As he was leaving the village I spoke
"I do prize knowledge highly. I am always curious, always wanting to know more. But I asked my question out of habit."

The Bonewright stopped, turned and once again I heard that whisper in my ears

"Very well. I will answer a question of yours. Lions..."
"Stop!" I said "Answer this question instead. Why do Bonewrights seek answers?"
Again the Bonewright grinned
"We do not seek answers, so much as we seek all knowledge. Much knowledge was lost during the Worldbreaking, but some things that are lost can be found. We Bonewrights believe that if we can find enough knowledge, and gather it together, we may be able to undo the Breaking of the World - or at least make the world more like it was then."
The answer called to me
"How does one become a Bonewright?" I asked.
He smiled. "If you wish to know that answer, come with me."

And I did.

I will always remember the first time I saw a Bonewright. It was the last time I saw my father and the first time I saw my teacher.

Mechanics behind the story
Bonewright A left a written message near the village before he went in. When Bonewright B saw it, he went in to the village.
Silent conversation courtesy of Message.
Ignoring cold courtesy of Endure Elements.
Body found thanks to Detecting an Arcane Mark.
Body uncovered via Expeditious Excavation.
Talking to dead done by forensics (Knowledge) and reading Bonewright A's diary, which has dates.
Fiery figure is Dancing Lights and Ghost Sound.
Ravens controlled by Handle Animal, a Raven Familiar and always making that whistle when scraps need cleaning up.
The protagonist then left to become Bonewright C

There was no snow on this mountain. Only ash.

My teacher had brought me here. Two weeks ago I had asked “When we say we can hear the dead, we mean we can read their writings, yes? No-one can really talk to the dead?” My teacher had not answered, but stopped suddenly. He paused, turned south and started walking again. For two weeks we walked. We walked out from the ice to a mountain - this mountain.

The mountain looked strange - short, and squat, flat at the top. It felts strange - warm to the touch. It smelt strange - like old eggs. My teacher taught me that in the days when the World Broke the land had buckled and convulsed. An old mountain here had caught fire somehow and covered the area - including a village - with ash. The ash had hardened over time, and those who had been in the village were frozen in death beneath our feet. We walked over the buried remains of a graveyard of the old times.

We camped overnight and in the morning crept up over a rise and looked down into an area that had been hollowed out. Down sixteen feet I saw there was a village, looking like it had been carved out of ash. I looked around and as I looked forward I saw something stranger.

Dead bones, walking.

The dead were there. Bones covered in blood, carefully scraping away the ash from a house on the edge of the hollow.

My teacher covered my mouth before I could scream and indicated we should descend to our camp. Running his finger along a necklace lodged around his neck he spoke.

”Long ago, my teacher’s teacher’s teacher learned to truly speak to the dead."

"He came to this place to talk with those who knew the secrets from before the World was Broken. He came, and he succeeded."

"He became a great master of our order. He learned the secrets of the water, to go into water but stay dry. He learned the secrets of fire, to walk on fire but not be burned. He learned the secrets of air, to fall but not be harmed. He learned the secrets of the earth, to be on one side of a wall, and then upon the other. Finally he started to learn the secrets of death."

"He called upon his students to bring him the bones of dead Bonewrights, and he carved upon those bones the secrets that he had learned. Then he restored to them movement, and healing, and blood. But he could not restore to them a mind. There was a cost. The Dead Who Walk hunger for life, and will steal it from the living unless a strong enough will controls them.”

”Feeling his death coming upon him, he sent away all his students and set out to truly learn the secret of death - to die, but still live. He planned to work the secrets upon himself while alive, in the hopes his mind also would survive the transition.”

”Did he succeed?" I asked, eyes flashing with the thought of immortality to restore the lost secrets of the past.

”No-one knows. He never came out from his cave. The Dead Who Walk still follow his last orders, and uncover the village. They allow any Bonewright who comes to study them - but be warned. No order was left to let those who study leave alive, for their master's will had always stopped them from attacking."

"The Dead Who Walk will welcome you to their master, and allow you to study as you will - but you will never leave.”

My master smiled at me

”I believe that one who is strong enough, prepared enough, may be able to walk in and learn all his secrets, then know enough to understand the final secret of Death, and leave. One day, when I feel my own death coming, I will walk into that cave. Many have gone before me - even my teacher - but none have returned. Perhaps I will be the first.”

Seven years later my teacher felt his death coming. One day, when I feel my own death coming, I will walk into that cave. Many have gone before me - even my teacher - but none have returned. Perhaps I will be the first.