"Of course, I'll find you later after I'm done here." Eramthgin said happily, waving Lyle off before returning to his work. This seems like it's going to be fun, people to kill and collect, while traveling and possibly partake in adventures. None if this ever happened back when he was in that cave...comfy, but a bit too peaceful after so many years.

He tossed another skull into the bag before noticing it was full. "Again?" He muttered, and knotted the bag with a string. He murmured a small spell and the space before him cracked a little, revealing a small hole the size of a wheel barrel and chucking the bag in. Most magic users have a little portable dimensional storage space, which is convenient because magic users usually aren't as physically strong as melee fighters and cannot carry too much. Depending on how powerful the mage is, the size of the storage room varies. Eramthgin's was roughly the size of a small room, about five feet in diameter. It was filled with various random objects, mostly body parts, some food, clothes, and money. The money was only there as a safe-keeping, since he wasn't sure if the same currency was being used anymore or not after so many years. There were some jewels too, for trading if the money doesn't work.

Closing the portal up again, he moved on to the next body, humming a small tune to himself and wondering where the next battlefield would be.

Dusting his hands off and stretching himself from his cramped position, Eramthgin thought it was a pretty good haul. Seven bodies, all pretty much perfect except a graze or two here and there, and he found a nice horse too. Well, a dead horse, but that hardly mattered to him. Good, young, and healthy horse corpses were hard to come by, since most of the time if they're dead, it's usually from a brutal wound, disease, or old age. Not very suited for a steed. The particular horse he found was a young one, around four years old, killed by a sword through the gut, luckily missing the spine.

While he would have to get rid of the flesh due to him forgetting how to make zombie dolls (damn himself for forgetting to bring along his Corpse Preparation books!), the horse could still be a nice steed...if he can find a saddle to place on the bones. Normal raised zombies would continue to decompose and who would want to ride on a horse that's dropping pieces of decaying flesh while it's walking? Zombie dolls however, are preserved and can last much longer without falling apart. Kind of like stuffing rag dolls with cotton, but with specially processed flesh instead. He would probably have to take a trip back to his cave unless he wanted to be stuck with dead rotting horses or bony rides for the rest of his travels.

It was only then that he remembered he had forgotten to ask when he should meet up with the mercenary guy. Not that he couldn't find him, as he had his magical signature placed on him to trace him, but still. He probably wouldn't mind him running off for a short while, would he? It would take around a week or two to get back to his cave, and double the time to return here again. There was the option of making a zombie go back to his cave for him...but he had a feeling that the walking dead weren't exactly any more welcome than they were hundreds of years ago. How frustrating.

Eramthgin looked around battlefield. There were still many bodies lying about. Mostly Nez soldiers, since the people of Vex cleared away the bodies of their own first. Should be okay then...he breathed out lightly and touched an ornament ring on his left middle finger, and whispered, "Baphi."

A large summoning circle appeared on the ground, bringing up a gust of wind as a large creature**, thrice the height of a man and twice as wide, appeared. It had a bird-like head and large wings, with sharp ridges going down the spine.

"How many times have I told you not to call me 'Baphi'?!" It roared, flicking its long barbed tail in irritation. "My name is BAPHOMET! BA-PHO-MET!"

"Aw, c'mon, you know I can't remember long names, and yours is long." Eramthgin said, grinning at the Wyvern. It was a while since he last summoned his Contract creature, and it seemed that Baphi is as irritable as always.

"Long?! Long, my foot! It's only three stupid syllables, you imbecile of a Drow!" Baphomet screeched, stamping the ground and raising a cloud of dust. He huffed and for a few moments before lowering his head to match Eramthgin's height. "So what now? Need another delivery done or something?"

Contract creatures are creatures that have made a deal with another. Some of them can be summoned through means of magic spells or an artifact, while others must be summoned 'manually', as in sending someone to inform the creature to come by. Similar to mercenaries, though with rougher details and usually a lot of violence, Contracts were more unstable and harder to control, as they do not view themselves as a subservient belonging to their Contract host. If annoyed to a certain point, they will also turn on their host and destroy him/her, along with the Contract. Of course, this would hurt them as well, so it's not often seen, but it doesn't mean the Contract creature couldn't rough up their host a bit.

The Contract host also cannot break apart the Contract without suffering consequences, such as having their magic backfire or losing their strength, etc. The length of the Contract varies depending on how long the two agreed with during the bonding. The Contract creature is usually paid with something they want from the host, either jewelry for creatures with a shiny fetish, or food, or even one's soul. The Contract host in return can ask the creature for favors, such as killing an enemy, fighting by their side, or serve as their steed.

Baphomet never really understood his host. His host was random, always in his own little world, and the only times he called for him through the Contract was to make deliveries like carrying letters to some person in another region. He was a Wyvern, by gods! Wyverns are fighters, not some stupid messenger boy! He sometimes wondered why he even made a Contract with such an insufferable host in the first place. But alas, what was done was done. Might as well get this over with.

"Ah, yeah, sort of." Eramthgin scratched his head and wondered vaguely if Baphi would be able to fit into his cave.

"You know my cave right? Well, I can't get back there right now and I need some books to refresh my memories on some things...could you go back there and ask Them to give you the three copies of 'Corpse Preparation' on my shelf and bring them back to me? You can have as many of these bodies lying around as payment. They're still pretty fresh, only dead about a couple of hours ago."

Baphomet considered the deal. It was pretty nice, and it was a while since he had a nice meal...

"Fine," He growled, "You have a deal. Just don't come whining to me if I bring the wrong book, you know I don't read humanoid text." With that, he stalked over to the bodies, ignoring the humans staring at him with their mouths agape, and started feasting.

Eramthgin blinked and turned his eyes away from the eating Wyvern, to Lyle.

"Oh, back already? ...And red hair?" He scratched his head. "Nope, I don't think so. Saw a few redheads, but they were males...and badly damaged..." He muttered the last part, turned and hollered at Baphomet. "Hey Baphi! Did you see or eat a female with red hair?"

"It's BAPHOMET!" The Wyvern roared back. "And no, I haven't seen a female humanoid with red hair. Or I would've eaten her at first sight. Males are so tough to chew on..." He grumbled and continued eating, ignoring Eramthgin.

Eramthgin shrugged and turned back to Lyle. "...Nope, don't know where she is. Maybe she's still wandering around somewhere or chasing after the running Nezzies?"