Tragic Trades

Rickley Ravenbrook.

***

My time in Eotrom was by far the easiest. Not to say I didn't work hard. Because hard, I worked.

I learned to fight, like everyone else. From Etan and the undead, like everyone else. Like everyone else, I shared my knowledge with the troupe and took knowledge from them. I learned engineering and artificing. Witchcraft and medicine. Magic and science. Just like everyone else.

Unlike everyone else, I enjoyed my first sabbatical in the realm to the utmost degree. For, unlike everyone else, I remained entertained.

Amun shared many things with us. One thing that often went ignored was the glorious vaults of wealth hidden within the various networks. Songs and styles and recorded plays that were not of this universe. Music. Movies. Radio. Television. Video games. But music, that was above them all.

There were so many genres that I had to listen to them without pause. No matter if I was training, learning, or resting, I lost myself in those exotic soundscapes. So of course, the first thing I did was devote my time towards creating, and then learning how to play those exotic instruments in all those eccentric styles. If only to blend them all with my charm to fill a gaping niche in the realm of entertainment in this universe.

Passing. Requiems. Funerals.

My niche was that of a revelry meant to celebrate one's life, giving their soul a beautiful sendoff to whatever awaited them in the afterlife; should they deserve it.

Eotrom or Amun's underworld, their destinations would be, if sung by the likes of me. An Undying Fiend of the Devil of the Fae as his Soul Singer. A marker of souls. A bard for the dead.

Through him, I got what I always wanted. Magical art. But only skeletons and zombies and vampires and ghosts could dance to the rhythm of my tunes. In turn, the horrid scratch of my fiddle made most mortals tremble in fear. All the more merrier for me. So merry as to almost demand I capitalize on it. So, I did.

I first used the NoxNet to learn of the musical preferences of the Troupe, starting with Amun, something that wound up being a grim and macabre style of orchestral music infused with improvised jazz and heavy bass.

I found it delightfully dreadful and became even more delighted to have the growing undead orchestra and spectral chorus bestowed unto me. Ever present were they in my domain, playing and signing for the satellites in constant observation, broadcasting their pieces to Eotrom and the realms below.

Through them and the networks, I learned that each commander of the Legio Noctis had a profile that documented their histories, feats, and accomplishments through visual and audible interfaces narrated by the Bard and Lore Master of the Noctis, Willard Rowe. And those same recordings, more or less, were also commentated by Ritrix Mildbluff, the Comedic Bard who founded the Laughing Houses.

I smirked in remembrance of her reaction to my failed attempt at the art and decided to add my own mix to their profiles.

It took months to study their fighting styles and more, analyzing the dying moments of those who opposed them. Fused was that intel with my newfound knowledge and added to their profiles on the Net. Not to entertain or commentate for any viewing from afar. My music was to give the legionary confidence; and make their opponents cower in fear.

Or, as Amun put it, I made them Boss Music.

With that done, I continued conducting concert after silent concert, studying my art further, growing enamored with the prospect of traveling the lands unceasingly. For I was sure to become famous overnight. And if I didn't, infamy was fine by me.

All my time wasn't spent playing, however, for my crafts and boons naturally bled into my occupational specialties, my military, role, and my businesses. I was to be an organizer of funerals, thus it would only make sense to fill the other roles involved with the dead and dying.

To that end, I studied construction, recreation, and the culinary arts from the Mafia to ease the suffering of those passing. Then I studied specific fields of medicine and witchcraft to learn how to determine the cause of death, and then use that knowledge to classify deaths as natural occurrences, killings, or any other means.

In turn, I learned how magic and science could be used to preserve the dead and prepare them for any number of burial or necromantic practices. Everything from cremation to mummification, I learned and mastered. And later, I applied that knowledge with artificing to create arcane urns, burial chambers, and sarcophagi; thus giving birth to the Ravenbrook Mortuary.

So it was, that my education grew to encompass the field of civil engineering. If only to use that knowledge to design mirror towns, pocket cities, and hidden homes within all places rural and urban for the fiendishly deadly. Hidden and accessed via the hospice care centers and mortuaries I was to build across the realms. Wherein I would use the necrotic powers bestowed unto me to pry and probe into the memories of the deceased. Not only to make my events that much more accurate. But to establish and maintain a team of private investigators.

Simultaneously, I decided to play more into my fiendish side by creating a record company. A place where often-shitty musicians could sell their souls away to me for better skills and more profits. Much in the same way I had done with Amun, in a way. In turn, that company had a dark mirror. A shop much like Buke's Bazaar, albeit for the sake of the fiendish. Thus I had yet another craft to master. Fencing.

A fiendish fencer, I became. An appraiser and buyer with much gold to spend for the items so often taken with blood. A patron for the nefarious, unbounded by death, much less laws. A giver of materials for the Eldritch Engineer. Most of the time.

They all blended, my occupational specialties, my businesses, and my role as the bard of the Elven Devil's Troupe. Of course, I was first and foremost a Legionary. A combatant. An explorer. Thus I trained extensively. But more than just the martial arts, I learned how to use my size to my advantage. That meant charming people. That meant deceiving and manipulating them. That meant sneaking through crawlspaces and tunnels or hiding in plain sight. That meant attacking in places that could deal extensive damage.

That meant rogue things.

Above all, that meant gathering and spreading information to sway public opinion, for the pen and spoken word were to be my most-used weapons of war. The most important aspect of my role. For, more than being a bard, my job as the Eternal Chief of Civil Affairs was to ensure the people of the realms didn't see us in an evil light.

Bad, undoubtedly so. But not evil. Not entirely.

I was to ensure good relations- nay, I was to be the bridge between the military and civilian sides of our territories in both a foreign and a domestic sense. That brought about the necessity of mock interviews or diplomatic meetings paired with guidance in becoming a personality on a broadcasted channel that could appease the masses in a way that would make my exotically beautiful appearance part of my charm.

It was but one of the ways the masses would become desensitized to those of us who were walking cadavers made pretty. But that was simply an added boon to the true goal of the role. To prevent needless war. And so it was that my Grave Keepers were conceptualized. A band of elite, long-lived spies that would be scattered across graves and cemeteries alike, wherein they would remain buried throughout the day and rise every night to sow the seeds of peace.

My time in Eotrom was among the shortest in the Troupe. Only a year and some change. No matter if it seemed longer than that, it was pale in comparison to some of the others. Yet, I learned just as much as the rest of them. And continued learning even after I met the end of my long list of tasks.

My last few months in that realm were spent weaving my acoustic world of crypts and familiarizing myself with the upgrades Iris gave me, the changes Wilson made to my teeth and more, the augmentations I reported with. In a way, that was accomplished by repeating many of the tasks I'd already done. I connected my entire being to the three networks, in turn granting me remote control of everything I'd built thus far.

I created a new line of enchanted or magical instruments, then I used them to remaster the boss music I made for the Legionaries to create a third variant to the many commentaries of battle. As Willard Rowe detailed the names of spells, armor, and weapons of both ally and enemy. As Ritrix made jokes and comedic sound effects at everyone's expense. I narrated the effect of the efforts of both fighters without bias.

Rather than give the name of an attack or describe its function, I had my most eloquent undead detail the damage inflicted on both the recipient and the environment for the sake of education. Live autopsies, in a way. A perspective that wound up being an instant hit and thus recycled in every activity or action. Without the morbidity, of course.

All things. The mundane, such as hiking. Cooking. Farming or gardening. The exciting. Rock climbing. Exploring. Fighting. Education. Magical practice. Art. Crafts. All across Eotrom and all across the peninsula, feeds and streams and videos began to appear on the net. Posted by nameless souls seeking to spread their knowledge to countless other nameless souls.

And so it was that I capitalized on that as well. Forming what would one day be known as RickTube before I was summoned to enter the Darkroom.