48th of Ash, 120 AS
The container was made of a type of infused glass, chilled to the touch and thick. Lyra had Jacun prepare it for her, infusing the glass with properties meant to preserve and maintain meats and flesh. As Lyra turned it over in her hand she carefully scratched a design into the surface, crude, but still distinguishable. Three larger pictographs were the most obvious. One was a swirling design of soft edges and curves, it held the meaning of containment, to hold inside and keep safe. To draw in and never set free. The 2nd was meant to reinforce the properties of the glass itself. It was a poorly drawn depiction of a flower, five petals flowing out from a bone in the middle. Preserve, maintain, to draw out the inherent properties. The third and final pictograph was amorphous, almost ghostly in appearance like a cloud surrounding a gem. This was the representation of her soul totem, to pull upon the power of the necromancer tool inside of it to evenly spread the effects within, and contain a portion of it once the totem was removed.
Frowning Lyra passed a finger over the scratch marks that now marred the once smooth surface of the container. It was unfortunate, but until she developed a method of scripting on delicate things such as glass she had to make such sacrifices. The other option was to have the crafters work her designs into the item itself, a thought she meant to explore further when she had more time and coin. With the primary pictographs, complete Lyra added several more designs. Pathways and focuses that connected the pictographs and ensured the properties were spread over and throughout the entire container. It was not strictly necessary to carve the symbols inside the jar, but for an added layer of efficiency, she did so. The last thing she did was add one final pictograph on the bottom of the container. A serpentine design, like a snake with no eyes. She did not connect it with the rest of the pictographs but left it on its own.
The final step had come, and holding the glass up to her eyes she breathed out slowly, letting the black smoke of her essence flow out and surround the jar. Closing her eyes she whispered soft verses, echoing the pictographs purpose and design as she influenced touched each one, in turn, providing them with Aether and causing them to glow faintly before settling. The smoke returned them to her lips, being breathed back in as Lyra opened her eyes and set the jar on the workbench, nodding in satisfaction as she turned to look back over the lab.
The stone slab at the center was fully cleaned now, and the rows of parts and pieces were not clearly labeled on the shelves across from her. The skin, however, had already been delivered to a tanner to be worked into a new item for Lyra's purposes. The man said it would take 5 days for the item to be completed, so in the meantime, Lyra contented herself with her other preparations.
The mage rolled her shoulders, sighing as she rubbed the back of her neck before walking around the stone slab to the shelf on the other side. From one of the shelves, she took a jar of what looked like strips of reddish-purple flesh. It looked to be mostly extra cuts, parts, and pieces of fat, skin, and muscle that had been trimmed or intentionally removed as they served no specific purpose. This jar Lyra carried back to the workbench, setting it to the side as she took down what looked like an oversized mortar and pestle, as well as a wooden chopping board and a serrated knife with pictographs along its blade and handle. The knife Lyra held up to inspect, scrutinizing it carefully. The glyphs on it read a very simple message. Take apart, disassemble, dissolve the bonds, break down. The list continued on for quite a few lines, but they culminated into a larger meaning which Lyra read as 'break down flesh'. It was a tool most Necromancers did not utilize, but one that Lyra found especially useful. The serrated edge of the knife, while unable to leave clean cuts, did a much better job at whittling down what is cut into chunks and pieces. The pictographs aided this process as well, wherever it cut causing the structural integrity of the flesh to loosen and letting it be reduced to a more pliable state. By including a step to break down the flesh before mixing it in the mortar and pestle the prep time for Ichor was greatly reduced.
"At times the barbaric means are in fact the most efficient." she mused, taking a strip of flesh from the jar and laying it on the cutting board. She then began to cut into the mean, creating smaller and smaller chunks. She then took those semi-gelatinous chunks and scraped them into the mortar bowl. Washing her hands in a bowl of clean water to the side Lyra grabbed another jar of herbs, a blend that Jacun had recommended she try. That thought made Lyra frown as she remembered the conversation.
Greyworm soil, ferma root, and the petals from the ghost Lilly. the alchemist had said in his typically, far too cheery, fashion, This blend does wonders joint pains and is popular for embalming salves. It restores and revitalizes aged meats, and helps them keep longer.
Oddly specific, but Lyra had accepted. What the man had not mentioned, though he surely knew, was that ghost Lilly's were known to be attractive to ethereal entities, and some said if you made a tea from the leaves you could feel the presence of spirits. Lyra took a pinch of this mixture, adding it to the bowl before grabbing another vial higher up. This one contained a dark liquid that swirled and flowed, the condensed aether from Lyra's true form. She hesitated for just a moment before uncorking and pouring the entire mixture into the bowl. It was true that she did not have much of her condensed essence, but she could have more made. Besides this was a necessary step.
Taking up the pestle Lyra began to knead into the mixture, grinding and pressing so that everything mixed evenly. It took some time but eventually, Lyra was left with a viscous substance, a soupy brown color that had no chunks or large pieces of flesh remaining. This she poured into the Jar she had prepared previously. From the pocket of her robes, Lyra pulled a ghostly white gem that gave off a chilly mist. She stared at it for a time, eyes unfocused before she shook her head and dropped it into the jar. The pictographs of the jar responded immediately, glowing white until she closed the lid and set the container on the shelf. It would take 24 hours for the ichor to be ready.
Clapping her hands together she set her fist on hips, looking back over at the bottom shelf where several jars of dark red blood now sat. The next step would be the most important so far.
