Work Text:
The following excerpts are taken from documents found in Tara Abernathy's backpack after her large-scale destruction of the lab spaces of the Hidden Schools. Presumably, they were related to work due in the Habeus Corpus upper-level elective taught by Bill Oakeyman, one of Professor Denovo's post-doctoral students. While seemingly unrelated to the subject of her early graduation, they are being preserved in her academic record for future reference.
Review of Frailties; Frinklen, Anton, 3862
Maestre Gerhardt’s Thaumas is, unconditionally, a work of genius. His arguments in favor of human willpower have brought new ideas to life every day. His powerful work will one day shake the very foundations of the Earth. But why on earth has his follow-up to that volume been a diary in which he complains about getting old? Gerhardt’s new volume, Frailties, is attractively slim and priced at a reasonable point. Those are perhaps the only good things about it. Gerhardt dedicates page after page to his own weakening limbs and fading eyesight, exhaustively detailing the ways in which his body decays. It would seem that he has forgotten that humans age…
Response to Frailties Review; Gerhardt, Stephanus, 3862
I was disappointed to see that the Times published those slanderous claims about my book. I, Stephanus Gerhardt, am undergoing a transformation unbeknownst to any. I am seizing the reins of the human spirit. Records of the subjective experience are quite important, actually. The point of the book is not to note that my eyesight is fading; it is to note that while the physical objects of my eyes are clouding over and becoming misshapen, my ability to perceive the world around me has only grown stronger. How have the Gods held us back? What might we be able to become without them? Yes, the review accuses me of smelling my own farts. When I have not passed gas for over half a decade, implying major changes to my digestive system, the odor of one’s farts becomes quite relevant. I stopped eating in 3860, and only drink water; I have suffered no ill effects as of yet…
Letter proposing the first large-scale project to analyze Death, Andrew Richmond, 3866
Archchancellor Phillips,
My condolences upon the horrific attack committed against the poor civilians in Krethrup. It is unthinkable, absolutely unthinkable, that the so-called Gods should destroy their own people rather than allow them to explore another way of being. They seem to think that they can always find more worshippers. The greatest weapon the Gods have against us is death. When our leading Craftsmen die, we lose irreplaceable knowledge. When their priests die, another steps up to fill their place. And they preach of an afterlife; the gods will kill all their followers (as Krethrup showed), rather than allow us to convince them of the truth of rationality.
We must determine how best to free the people from superstition and hatred. And we know that some of our number are changing. Maestre Gerhardt first, of course, but other Craftsmen are learning to defy Death. Why must they flense themselves? Why do they still feel emotions? […] I propose a Project, for establishing the limits and varieties of undeath. We can purchase land using a corporation in an unoccupied location, far from civilization, and begin building labs. We must advance reason and humanity.
Yours, Dean Richmond of the Institute
Dresediel Lex Project zombie report, '72
Zombies are a common failure state of the Craft and of Godly intervention. Like many other Craft failure states, these are preventable with a touch of caution. Mindless animate corpses derive from any large power influxes into the intact body after the dissipation of the soul. With no soul to guide the self, the power reanimates the body, and the muscles move (without coordination, resulting in the common stumbling gait). The power mostly anchors within the bones and muscles; without blood flow through the flesh, the soft flesh degrades over time. When the body has fully rotted, the power is released back into the air.
It is a misconception that zombies want to eat brains for their nutritional qualities. The zombie body longs for a soul to give it purpose, and it attempts to consume a victim’s body to have it incorporated into its own. Any tendency for it to target the head is merely because the neck is roughly at the level of the biting mouth, and once removed lets the zombie consume the rest of the body. Even the amateur Craftsman can repurpose a wild zombie by snaring it and giving it direction via soulstuff. At this point, it becomes like any other necromantic summons, and can be discorporated at will.
Dresediel Lex project newsletter, ’69 […]
Management has heard some complaints about conditions in the undeath departments. We remind you: We work on the Dresediel Lex Project not because it is easy, but because it is necessary. We are the first generation liberated by ourselves, not by reliance upon some Gods. We operate in the utmost secrecy, lest believers discover our location and send the power of the Gods onto us. We must study what is happening to us and how it compares to immortality as presented by the gods. Any slight discomfort suffered now will reap dividends beyond belief.
Management also reminds you of the importance of utmost secrecy. We are “in the middle of nowhere”, as many of you have helpfully remarked, to prevent Godly interference. The project is named for Dresediel Lex to keep spies for the Gods focused on that area when trying to hunt us down. Do not try to leak information if you are unhappy; the Gods will smite the site without regret to try to quell our reformation of humanity and Death.
Requests to transfer departments are, of course, always considered.
Dresediel Lex Project vampire report, ’73
Early experiments into preserving the lives of those using the Craft ran, of course, into the ancient curse known to us as “vampirism”. While it is technically several different conditions, some given as punishment by Gods of different pantheons and some constructed by Craft, these conditions have intermixed and combined such that the one overarching term applies to all. Every novice knows that we are composed of bones and soul.
To the novice, the vampire does not seem to deal in Craft and power; it sustains itself. However, upon further review, it is clear that that is not the case. The vampire’s soul is bound, inexorably, into its blood. The circulatory system transmits the blood all around the body, suffusing the cells with soulstuff. The soulstuff can only be restored by consuming the blood of others. While the vampire retains its selfhood, unlike other forms of undeath, this cannot be extended to preserve the flesh of Craftsmen. The soulstuff is bound to the blood, which is used to deliver sustenance throughout the body. Any disruptions of this process in an attempt to utilize the Craft lead to rapid decay of the body.
Notes from the Dresediel Lex project, ’69-’71:
Today’s procedure is a bit odd. It’s not quite a vivisection; the target is unquestionably dead. But it’s hard to call it an autopsy when the subject is straining against wrought-iron restraints and trying to bite at people near its head. Subject V’s heart is still beating slowly (approximately one pulse per hour), even though all the other organs are vestigial; I removed the lungs, kidneys, and liver with no ill-effects.
[…]
I tried to teach Subject V to use the Craft; my grad students carried it out under the stars and ran Maestre Shi’s standard exercises. Once compelled sufficiently, the subject was able to draw out an argument; however, its body began decaying rapidly and did not repair as typical for vampires. It screamed. A lot.
[…]
Subject L was trained in the Craft before being bitten. After a month of undeath, I ran the same experiment as subject V; subject L complained of “stickiness” and an inability to flex the will. When pressed, L attempted to limit the use of Craft to draw from one limb, and subsequently had only that limb atrophy without healing. It would seem that the soul is tied into the flesh of the vampiric sufferer.
[…]
I extracted and dried the incisors to determine whether the euphoric sensation in the vampires' prey derives from the bone or the saliva. It would seem that it derives from neither, peculiarly; neither dry tooth nor pure saliva gave a euphoric effect when introduced into the bloodstream. The vampire cannot inflict this effect at a distance, either. Perhaps this is evidence towards flesh/bone/soul tripartism, as opposed to the current scientific belief in dualism? Must investigate further.
[…]
I don’t understand how this is worth it. We must press on. For scientific knowledge. For the future. For Luisa.
Dresediel Lex Project revenant report, ’72
The default state of the Craftsman upon death is the formation of a revenant. Revenants are a variety of soul without a body, and may be employed to animate constructs. For a human, or for the unprepared Craftsman, death comes as a sudden shock. The body can no longer support the brain, and so the mind shuts down. Without a mind to direct the soul, it is released aimlessly.
At this point, for a human, the personality dissipates. For the civilian worshipper of the Gods, the soulstuff would typically be claimed by the patron deity of the dead. For Craftsmen, however, the process is more complicated. The personality is held together by sheer force of will and by habit–even poor Craftsmen are used to focusing their wills upon existence. The revenant is a term used to describe the houseless spirit thus generated.
Human revenants are of little use. They can be used to animate a bipedal body, but the mind of a human is unnecessary; the spirit of a pigeon can do so just as well. Human revenants also present an unacceptable risk of utilizing their will to rebel against the orders given to them. Instead, the easiest option is simply to exorcise the revenant by shredding it to pieces.
Tara Abernathy's notes from the Habeus Corpus lecture on early Deathless Kings in the DL Project
- M. Gerhardt’s flesh rotted on his bones, and he felt it
- Easier to simply remove offending flesh if of no use
- Eight older Craftsmen on site volunteered for pre-emptive conversion to skeletons
- Five died in the process; their soulstuff was lost
- Two converted successfully, but degraded over time; motion became jerkier
- Akin to “locked-in syndrome”
- One converted and kept all faculties
- Successful preservation of self and capabilities
Final report from the Dresediel Lex Project, ’74
Despite experimentation with different methods of preserving the bones, flesh, and soul in undeath, we find no ideal method to keep all of these intact. Under this assumption, we find it more important to preserve the soul and its ability to practice the Craft than the body. We recommend conversion of the body of the dying Craftsman into a skeleton; this allows the soul to separate from the body and continue to use the Craft, while avoiding the slow rotting of the flesh on the bones…
Abstract of Advantages of Skeletal Constructs, by Phillips et al, ’82
In this paper, we explore the utility of a skeletal zombie. We demonstrate that the flesh can be made purely vestigial if the bones alone are animated, even if the only soulstuff is that oriented towards a goal set by the necromancer (unlike that of the skeletal self-driven Craftsman), and that such zombies display far greater precision of movement and range of motion. We experiment with flensing before conversion, and present a simple spell to expedite the removal of flesh by speeding up the rotting process. We demonstrate the utility of such minions when used in skirmishes against the Gods, especially when converting the newly-fallen followers of such Gods; if they drain the soulstuff of their dead, we can turn the leftover bodies on them. We consider further work which may be done in analyzing other forms of undeath.
Excerpts from So You Want To Grant Yourself Life Eternal, Fourth Edition; 212
The modern Craftsman does not need to go to the lengths taken even a generation ago. Locking one’s death in a quail egg in a duck egg in the eye of a needle in a bank box? How droll. No, you have been raised in a world of Deathless Kings. You know what to expect from the loss of your flesh. It will be like letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, except all over. Your heart will end one beat and not begin the next. Once the blood stops flowing, you will need to have your flesh removed, as it will quickly putrify. We recommend spending a week at a luxury spa; many of these offer a maggot treatment, which our experts have said "tickles”…
Revenant Impacts on the Golem Economy; Eigenmann et al, 215
The revenant is a form of undead currently mostly viable for low-level Craftsmen. It is rare that the Craftsman does not invest any effort in preserving their body, and rarer that the Craftsman dies with no debtors with a vested interest in seeing them returned to their bones for indentured labor. However, there is considerable demand for them, as use of a revenant is a common basic Craftsman’s way to create a golem. The spirit is familiar with controlling a bipedal body and can be used temporarily. It does have a tendency to decohere; early research blamed interference from the gods, but modern hypotheses indicate that it is likely simply discomfort with an unfamiliar body. […] In this literature review, we examine alternatives to Craftsmen in producing revenants. We find it extremely plausible that modern civilians, with their experience transferring soulstuff in everyday financial decisions, could be used to extract vestigial revenants which could then be strengthened. In typical deaths, a claim is typically filed by the banking institution of the dead, drawing the soulstuff into their bank account; after fees, any soulstuff in their account is then disbursed to their next of kin. We consider the thought experiment of a bank account which, in exchange for better interest rates in the person’s life, draws more of the personality within soulstuff upon death…