Heroist
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The skeleton gestured for Tiberius to follow him. He led him to the back of the house. There, he opened the doors to the basement. In the first room, where the mage found himself, skeletons lay on shelves carved into the stone, with paper tags around their necks bearing inscriptions in the Halekhide language. As soon as the skeleton servant closed the basement door, torches lit up, illuminating the path ahead. The next room was the same. Tiberius had to descend another three levels underground until he found himself in a large, spacious hall. There were many different skeletons. Some of them were wearing armor, others were wearing robes. In the center of the hall, on a huge table, lay a dead man. Above him, holding a scalpel, stood, apparently, the master of death.
- Welcome, traveler, - he said to Tiberius without looking up from his work.
-It's a pity that I wasn't born in these lands, - the mage said with a sigh. -But you are a very skilled master. I have always been interested in and admired the Halekhide's skills in the art of using what seem to be completely empty shells, if I may say so. I myself spent several years traveling through these places, trying to learn at least a little about this art, but, as you can see, it takes not only a lot of time but also a special talent. Excuse me, am I disturbing you?
Whatever