"I swore I sensed you around here you old bastard," Oryx greeted as he stepped into the cabin, his boney feet clicking against the wooden floors. "Nice place you've got here Desalith. Do you bring all of your fair maidens up here for a fortnight of debauchery?"

The skeleton dropped his old gear by the door and strolled further into the cabin as he found himself a cozy chair and sat himself down. Dozens of barrels of drink and food littered the corner of the cabin, enough to live through another war without ever having to leave the place.

The journey to the old cabin was a long one, taking him from some of the southern most human towns all the way back to this place. He had passed through several towns, some welcoming and giving him an easy nights stay in the local church or inn. Some villages wanted nothing to do with him. He never needed the rest being in his current form of existence, but he felt like an ass for not obliging the good country-folk. Many of the young children were amazing by his very being, either born after the war or too young to have ever seen one of his kind. An Undead Vanguard.

Oryx glowed a content blue as he sat in his chair, a lazy throne for a reanimated fool. His bones where as white as the day he dug himself out of the mass graves of Ghyth, and his ancient brown cloak still sat upon his shoulders like proxy skin. He still looked like a risen corpse walking amongst the living, but he didn't look too bad.

"It has been far too long you old goat," Oryx continued with a smirk as he dug himself deeper into the chair, "how have the last ten years treated you?"