山卄ㄖ 山卂ㄒ匚卄乇丂 ㄒ卄乇 山卂ㄒ匚卄乇尺丂?
An eternity to last, an eternity to guard.
Immortality befalls those who's souls least expect, and the cruelty of it all jocosely establishes itself within the first century, carving a niche concept on the backburner of the mind, rooting itself through your veins, praying on your will. Many a man sought these secrets, many a man were foolish driven into it's painstakingly brutish truth. The soul is not fit to last, it erodes as all else, deteriorates into an insanity so sane but a mere fraction may distinguish it as mental turmoil rather than just the veracity of it all. To those whomst razors shed no blood and presence no tears, their tale seldom represents one of virtue and joy, instead reaching for the absurdity of greed, the superfluous sentiment of stark superiority.
Few fools dabbled on the waters of perpetuity, deciding to keep those secrets to themselves rather than accept it's devastating blessings. One Conrad Mandrake pertained to such distinct assortment of individuals, on his psychotic plummet into outlandish knowledge, long forgotten, mostly forbidden. The forefather of what would eventually come to blossom into indisputably the most despised household of wielders of the arcane. A smudge passed down from generation to generation, an unextinguishable torch about esoteric and despair, gathering a massive following of the ancient way, architecting the stepping stones of what, one day, would come to be referred as the Mandrake State in the unoccupied lands of the Lincolnshire county.
Stepping stones, evidently, which required sacrifices. Not his own, yet experimental marvels of obnoxious consequences and vicious procedures. Souls severed from their respective mortal coils, flesh molding into disturbing creatures, whilst their existence was transferred to multiple vessels. Primarily, test subjects would experience extreme torment, a ceaseless sensation of rendered flesh, or perhaps of molten skin perpetually sizzling hot even though organic matter was no longer part of the previously decaying body. The machinations of necromancy were impracticable to grasp at such early stages, yet Conrad pressed on, motivated not by greed nor an unquenchable thirst for discovery, simply for his pleasure and such heightened curiosity it could trample upon lives over lives to achieve the goal set in mind.
Adaptations, tweaks, honed abilities, tomes transmogrified into reality, windy whispers blowing responses to inquiries never asked. Time moved ever forth, as a now older, decrepit humanoid did not halt for a mere second, storing his fiendish findings in a small library within his laboratory. Ultimately, he had managed to leave behind his two greatest achievements: brethren initiated in the erroneous path he trailed on, and an undying guardian to safeguard his family's timeless treasure. Nameless, featureless, this being was merely known as "The Sentinel". It's task? Guard the manor and it's stashed intelligence on the ways of eldritch deities long lost to dust, as well as the artifacts and assortment of multiple items brought over.
It was one Adelaide Mandrake whom first taught it how to write and read, a shot in the dark to further her research, a mindless goon to boss around, contracted into servitude by a mere pact it never signed, and since it's previous life was but a blur now, why not oblige? She was, after all, the one master who treated it fairly. The few generations posterior to Adelaide's further increased his savvy, now able to correctly assess the manor's defenses, identify and track items of interest, analyze tactically situations with the uncanny gear he had in hand. It was a shame the manor burnt down by the hands of a rogue family member and their mob.
It was left behind, the entire state, abandoned and, for all intents, in ruins.
Yet still it guards the leftovers, ever vigilant.