What lurks beneath

[Ivar]

123 Glade 11th

Nodding his head, Ivar said, "let’s get going then. Oh wait, one sec." He looked at them with an expression that was half-resolute, half-anxious. The novelty of what lay ahead of him was enough to churn his stomach.

Tearing his gaze away from the pair, he reached into his pocket and placed enough coins on the table to cover his tab. The clinking sound accompanied by his standing up signaled that they would be leaving. Ivar held out an arm to grab a waitress. He murmured something about leaving for the evening so people looking for him would know not to wait up.

Ivar gave Hector and Virgil an apologetic smile then he walked out of the tavern. He’d find a nice spot along the outer wall of the tavern to lean against while he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Drawing on his understanding of traversion, he began to focus on the Midden. His expression was one of deep concentration as he navigated the slipspace while buzzed. It was simple to simply vault there but he needed to actually create a portal for others to use.

The dank, rotting stench of the Midden that had been ingrained into his senses. Focusing on those memories made it easier to find his destination. Once he had a strong enough connection, a portal sprung to life before them and grew as Ivar grunted from the effort. It was like looking into a vortex, the edges shimmering with energy.

“Grab hold of my arms if you don’t mind,” he said to the pair without opening his eyes. “I’m not quite sure if I can transport you properly without maintaining contact.” Sending other people through a portal was not something he’d ever attempted before, though he was somewhat confident that things would turn out okay.

Whether they’d grab hold or not, Ivar would step through the portal and appear in a familiar place. It was undoubtedly the Midden. It smelled god awful. Worse than usual, even. The slimes that usually took care of the rotting were strangely not present, perhaps having been killed or driven off. The slimes that were around were very small and inconspicuous.

Ivar’s hand reached back and felt around for his katana. It was there, tied to the back of his waist and he breathed a sigh of relief though it wouldn’t have been a huge deal to simply create a portal to fetch it from home if he’d needed to. He’d slide his hand to the handle and kept it there while he looked around for any immediate danger in case he needed to portal them back out.

“We’re here,” he’d say as he nodded and let his portal close. This wasn’t the exact spot that he’d intended to take them but it was close enough. Maybe a five minute’s walk away but he doubted that’d matter too much. He figured if these guys hunted undead regularly then they’d figure things out.

[Hector]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

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When Ivar had pulled the waitress aside to inform her of whatever it was he needed to say, Vergil would pull a few coins from his bag as well, leaving it on the table, though separate from Ivar’s, to cover both him and Hector. Shortly thereafter, they would follow the man out of the tavern. And though they were still a bit nebulous about how useful whatever it was they’d find would end up being, they were curious, and the risk was relatively low– at least for them. Following a strange Traverser into the Midden would likely be a terrible idea for most.

When they were outside the tavern, they would, at first, stand idly by while Ivar started to prepare the portal. Noting his strain, Vergil would extend a hand to help the man cast. He’d done this before with other Traversers; one could channel aether into the portal’s creation even if one did not know the destination. Further, in cases like this, it would allow the one mapping the path through Slipspace to focus solely on that.

It would look much like a tear forming in the very air before them, coruscant magic glinting as the tear rapidly expanded outward into a ring and the Railway opened– a process quickened with the second mage’s assistance. For a moment, the space within it would be an uncanny void, empty and unenterable until Ivar succeeded in linking it to the destination. But it did not linger that way long, and soon the aetherial doorway would be filled with an image of the Midden– repulsive, but the spell was now complete.

“The portal is stable on its own– we’ll be able to pass through it provided you don’t immediately run, Blink, or some such away; it’s based on proximity rather than touch,” Vergil offered in explanation. “If you’ve any questions about Traversion, by the way, I can likely answer– the one who gave it to me was very informative.”

The Inquisition made sure all of its mages knew as much of what was academically available to them on any given rune prior to granting it to them; perhaps this was an inconvenience in the moment, but Vergil appreciated the free access to arcane knowledge he’d been granted. Though upon this, he wouldn’t elaborate as he intended to keep his- and Hector’s- status as Inquisitors obfuscated for the nonce.

That being said, Hector and Vergil would pass through the portal shortly after Ivar. The larger vampyr’s expression wouldn’t shift at all, but Hector’s nose wrinkled, a look of mild discomfort on his face. Hector might revel in death, but he preferred the thrill of violence and fresh blood– sewers and rot were not his forte whereas his companion’s experience as a Necromancer rendered him largely unbothered.

Though vampyres don’t have night vision in the purest sense, their ability to see in darkness is greater than a standard man’s, but looking around, neither saw much of note. Hector did, however, notice the katana that the man wore, and further, the lack of confidence there was when he’d moved to check for its presence.

“You really aren’t a fighter, are you?” The elf would ask. “I know you’ve Traversion if need be, but if it’d ease you, I can help you to better protect yourself, too– it’s a sigil, and works something similar to what’s writ by Scriveners, but not quite the same. I learnt it in my time as a witch of Zaichaer’s Covens, before the city fell,” Hector would say, a harmless smile on his face. “...and if it bothers you, I can erase the magic at your say so.”

Vergil tilted his head at first, but realizing what Hector actually meant, he said nothing; there was little risk.

- - -

Aidolon Speech

"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"

[Ivar]

"Very well," Ivar had murmured, when he’d been assisted with the portal. At least now he knew that they were mages of substantial skill. The one’s control over the forces of magic demonstrated by the portal he had created. His own understanding of magic, his command over it, felt almost childish in comparison. However he wasn’t all too interested in getting tips for Traversion. He had teachers for that, unlike Necromancy.

Ivar blinked at Hector's observation, then let out a low chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "That obvious, huh?" he asked, a wry grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. The truth was, he wasn't much of a fighter, at least not in the conventional sense.

He took out his illumite and concentrated on it to create enough light for him to see with. He held it up above his head so that they could see more clearly. He was careful not to drain too much of the shard’s energy as he would certainly need it later.

"I appreciate the offer," he replied after a moment, nodding at Hector. "I'm not one to turn down a helping hand, especially not in a situation like this. Might I ask what manner of magic it is? I’m not aware of a magic who possesses such an ability."

He pulled up his sleeve and held out his arm, assuming that the elf was going to mark his skin. He assumed that the magic was some version of scrivening, as he had heard of people getting temporary tattoos scrivened on their body.

As he waited he said, “I’m actually looking forward to getting initiated into a more offensive magic in a few weeks. I haven’t made a decision yet as to what rune to choose, but I’ve my eye on summoning. It’d be nice to have a spirit do the fighting for me.”

He turned his head to Virgil and said, “I suppose that leads into why I’m so interested in Necromancy. How is it that necromancers command the dead? And do you see any signs of the zombies you’re after?”

[Hector]

TIMESTAMP: -
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Hector would smile, stifling a laugh. “Most men who’ve wielded blades for significant periods of time do so with an undeniable air of confidence,” he'd explain.

He’d also half expected Ivar to inquire further about the nature of what he intended to do, and so he’d had an answer already prepared: “Oh, I’m a Summoner, see, and it’s one of the skills of my Aidolon– a spirit I’ve formed a more, um…advanced? Contract with. The sigil and the nature of our contract allow me to confer onto others a bit of its power– that’s all.”

In the same breath as he said this, his shadow would expand, the darkness moving like water, or in some places a smokier mist, as it swirled ‘round the elf. In the light of the illumite, the liquid dark would catch the light in an oddly colorful sort of brilliance. Parts of the shade would condense and then lighten, forming arms the color of marble at first, then the upper torso and face of a man leaning over Hector’s shoulders. And though full well knowing this display would be altogether bizarre to those not used to the presence of spirits, the shadowcast man would offer a playful smile and wave.

“I am known as Al’Kassis,” the spirit would offer by way of introduction.

The only thing stated here that was true was the spirit’s name, though what Hector had said was, certainly, possible. For him, this was a very common lie, and thus it was easy for him to not seem deceptive when delivering it– Summoning was an esoteric art, and so were the Eldritch spirits he mostly worked with. For his less obvious uses of blood magic, this was what he defaulted to.

When Ivar assented, Hector would pull a medium sized vial from a loop on his belt. The vial, on its face, would appear to contain black ink; the elf held onto this for exactly what he’d offered– drawing sigils of varying purpose onto people and things. He’d uncap it and draw the liquid out by manners more aetheric. And in the light of the illumite Ivar had taken out, it would glint chromatic, not unlike what the spirit itself appeared to be composed of; this wasn’t truly ink, was it? Nevertheless, he’d end up drawing the symbol by manipulating the ink into the proper shape on Ivar’s skin in much the same fashion as he’d moved it through the air.

In truth, the mark was a disguised vampyr's Brand. Hector didn't feel like coming up with something visually unique, so in actuality, he'd just drawn the symbol he bore as his Vitalis rune, though Ivar would be missing that context; Hector's rune was not presently visible. The elven mage drew it three times, overlapping the symbol's outer circles in a triangular fashion. This was because he was actually drawing three separate Brands, but that distinction, as far as Ivar was concerned, was irrelevant. The first activated right away and gave one of the sigils a soft aetheric glow; it would grant the man substantially heightened sight and hearing.

"If you're wondering why only one glows, it's because the other two are…contingencies, they're only really useful if you're actually in danger, at which point I will activate them," he clarified.

But then onto the subject of Summoning, “...you are, are you? I can’t deny the usefulness of Summoning, being that I’ve had it most of my life. But if you do go that route, bear in mind the inherent risks…spirits always have wills and agendas of their own, one shouldn’t think of even lesser ones as tools.”

The man’s next question gave Vergil a short pause. In looking around, there wasn’t much to see, but a vampyr’s heightened senses did allow him to detect his quarry through other methods. Namely scent, because even though one could argue the entirety of the midden smelt of rot, undead tissue was somewhat unique.

"I can at least discern the general direction at this point, yes," and looking to Hector, he'd gesture with his head in the direction he intended to go once the boy was done enchanting the mark.

As he moved, he would continue, Hector following after him and assuming Ivar would as well. “About your other query, Necromancy can command both the living and the dead, but the methods vary– to a degree, it depends on the creativity and other skills of the Necromancer in question. Soul binding and creating constructs would be the most ‘complete’ form of control, but there’s other things like Ghost Darts, Thralls, and the myriad uses one can apply to Remembered Artefacts. I could speak for a while on any of those subjects; what exactly would your goal be?" Vergil would finish with an inquiry of his own, but then as they wandered the cavernous halls of the Midden, he would suddenly stop.

Lowering his voice, Vergil would point down a corridor to their right, "...our quarry lurks within. I assume it's a dead end and they've set up some sort of encampment; some zombies can maintain a surprising amount of mental clarity, so be ready for anything," and looking to Ivar, "...are you prepared?"

- - -

Aidolon Speech

"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"

[Ivar]

Ivar watched Hector's actions with curiosity, observing the transformation of his shadow. When Al'Kassis introduced itself, Ivar nodded in acknowledgment, his hand instinctively moving to his chest in a slight bow. "Well met, Al'Kassis," he greeted.

As Hector drew forth the vial and its contents started to glisten, Ivar squinted his eyes. The chromatic glint had a mesmerizing effect, drawing him in as he tried to comprehend the substance. No, it wasn't ink, was it? He decided not to think on it too much. If he kept asking questions he was sure they’d spend an hour down here without making an ounce of progress.

When Hector began drawing the sigil on Ivar's skin, he awaited patiently for something to happen. This was entirely new territory for him, but there was a thrill in the unknown. He examined the glowing sigil and marveled at the changes he started to experience. He could see a lot more clearly and he could hear a trickle of water that he hadn’t heard before. He blinked, adjusting to the new details he could make out in the environment around them.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said with regards to the summoning tips. He was too naive to truly understand the connection a summoner had with spirits. He added, “this sigil is incredible by the way. Everything feels so… vivid.” He might have looked like a child who was seeing for the first time. He was certainly thankful that his sense of smell wasn’t amplified because he might have hurled.

He followed along, taking care to keep close by. He knew how things could jump out at you at any moment down here and was ready to blink at a moment’s notice. He listened to Vergil's explanation as they moved deeper into the midden. He took in the words 'soul binding', 'constructs', 'Ghost Darts', 'Thralls', and 'Remembered Artefacts' with great interest. They were all topics that he would love to delve deeper into. He was sure he could find some books in his school’s library on each topic.

"More control sounds good so it sounds like I’m interested in soul binding. You mean to say you can take someone’s soul and control it somehow?" he answered Vergil's question.

The sudden halt made Ivar alert. He followed Vergil's pointed direction, trying to discern any movement or noise that might give away the presence of their quarry. His enhanced senses did help him pick up on subtle shifts in the air, an indication of some form of life within the vicinity.

“I’m ready. I’ve committed this location to memory and can vault back here at a moment’s notice. We can continue our discussion when we’re sure the coast is clear. Also, do hear that scraping sound? Should I put away my illumite?” He heard something scraping across the ground in the distance. If he had to hazard a guess it sounded like someone was dragging something metal across the ground. If he was more used to enhanced hearing he might have been able to figure out that it was moving slightly closer with every step. Or maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

[Hector]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

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When Ivar acknowledged his enhanced senses, Hector would smile; he appeared genuinely delighted. “Vivid, yes! I can’t imagine life without it anymore,” he’d say, his smile shifting more impish.

He really couldn’t imagine life any different than the enhanced perception he had. His memories of the years he spent as a mortal were completely gone, but, well, that story wasn’t exactly short nor was it quite believable; he’d not elaborate further, so as not to elude any more to the amnesia he’d willfully accepted.

“The other two are a bit more dramatic, but we’ll see if they’re necessary,” he’d continue, deliberately being nebulous.

Already painted on Ivar’s skin, he wouldn’t be able to wipe the ‘ink’ off unless he had something along the lines of negation or abjurinium to dispel magic. However, Hector’s intentions were far from pernicious– he just liked being deliberately obtuse at points. Some things are simply more fun that way.

When Ivar responded to Vergil, the man would nod. “In a couple ways, yes. You can bind a soul to your will through a ritual, or you can bind it to a soul gem, the gem itself able to be used in myriad ways, but…” He’d pause, appearing to think about something for a moment.

“The caveat is that most of my uses of Necromancy are medicinal, the way of flesh; I've been a chirurgeon by trade for most of my life.. Knowledge wise, I’ve studied all three paths, but in practice, I’ve only dabbled in soulbinding…I suppose teaching you would offer me good experience in turn.” And then upon stopping, “...but I’ll go on whence we’re through here.”

It was at this point that the larger vampyr would direct Ivar’s attention down the corridor they stood before. The response Ivar gave to his warning had Vergil nod again, “Yes...and I’d put it away lest you want their attention.”

As the two of them spoke, Al’Kassis would dissipate his mortal guise and enshroud Hector within his miasmatic form; in the darkness of the Midden, it would be as if the elf vanished– the spectre’s darkness was impenetrable by all except the most consummate of Semblers. Soundlessly, the boy and his spirit would lurk away, seeking a proper vantage point.

Vergil, however, was not one to embrace subterfuge. “Interfere or don’t, just don’t get yourself killed,” he’d say to Ivar, already walking away before he’d finished the sentiment.

Ivar would immediately note that his steps now would contrast to the way he’d moved before; Vergil was a gentle person, and he’d normally carry himself that way. Though he’d always stand tall and confident, he’d oft go out of his way to be less intimidating; as a chirurgeon, he’d spent just as much effort in trying to comfort his patients’ minds as he did to heal their bodies, and over time, he’d adopted much of this reassuring demeanor into his default.

His approach was simple– he’d walk down the corridor, senses open, but making no attempt to conceal himself. Rather, it would quickly become apparent he wanted to attract attention unto himself, for he’d shifted his weight, letting his steps hit the ground far louder than before…and Vergil, tall for a human man, was far heavier than he appeared. Through Vitalis, he’d over time continued to reinforce his anatomy, increasing the density of both his bone and muscle tissues for strength, resilience and endurance; he was a veritable tank at this point, and his steps were far from subtle.

It was not long before he’d catch the attention of the undead at the end of the corridor– and the few of lesser minds were conflicted. Still possessing some of their slipping sentience, the zombies hesitated; he who’d intruded upon their sanctuary appeared far more alike to predator than prey, and yet…a zombie’s hunger for flesh was powerful. With Vergil’s size and vitality, devouring a man like that would do wonders for preserving what remained of their withering bodies. And with wills and constitution eroded, they couldn’t resist the sweet siren call of their endless hunger.

~~~

At the end of the corridor was a shoddy sort of…series of shelters, though calling it even that was incredibly generous. There were three ramshackle structures, hobbled together with scavenged metal and wood, rotting and rusted; one at the very end of rhe corridor and larger than the other two. The ground was littered with rotting flesh, bones, and what must be the discarded belongings thereof– all steeped in layers of ichor and miasma. Either the undead had been here a while or this was the site of great tragedy– but on the surface, one couldn’t tell.

The drag of metal was from a zombie pulling along the corpse of a heavily burned man adorned in leather armor enmeshed with metal; to Vergil’s surprise, it appeared he’d died recently. Perhaps somebody else had followed the same lead Ivar had heard, woefully unprepared? But he wouldn’t have the time to ponder this, as the zombie that’d been dragging it along decided that Vergil was the more appetizing quarry.

The zombie dropped the corpse, and to the vampyr’s slight surprise, the ghoulish man lifted his hands, evoking a blast of wild magic; sparking forth bright and nigh to blue, the energy would shift white to red as it burned, fire roaring through the air in Vergil’s direction. The leather his armor was composed of had been treated to resist environmental wear, and for a combatant, 'environmental wear' meant things like this. Leaping back, his armor would suffer singing at best, but the bouncing flames did lick the man’s face– despite the immolation of his left cheek, he would appear unbothered.

In a few fluid movements, he’d brandish the polearm he’d brought with him and lunge forward with a serpent’s reflexes and a bear’s strength; thrusting upwards, the polearm would impale the zombified mage’s torso, rending flesh and shattering bone; the force of his strike and size of his weapon sundered the fallen man’s spine in an instant. Swiping the weapon to the side, his foe would be rent in two, both halves of the body falling to the ground unceremoniously with a wet thud. At the same time, the burns Vergil endured would rapidly rejuvenate– a strange sight, indeed.

There were other zombies present with skills and sanity impossible to postulate upon, but their focus would depend on Ivar’s actions– that is, whether he’d follow Vergil, hang back or, perhaps, something else. Al’Kassis was content, for the nonce, with keeping himself and Hector hidden, creeping around in the darkness.

- - -

Aidolon Speech

"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"

[Ivar]

A flicker of intrigue flashed in Ivar's eyes at the mention of soulbinding. The idea of binding a soul to his will stirred within him a potent blend of curiosity and trepidation. It was a daunting concept, filled with ethical quandaries and potential misuses. But at the same time, it was also incredibly fascinating. It held a promise of power and control that was hard to ignore.

"Binding a soul to my will, huh, I’ll have to pick your brain about that when we’re done," He muttered under his breath. He hadn’t intended for this to be audible but he supposed he would hear it all the same given their enhanced hearing. His gaze distant as he pondered over the implications of such an ability. He could only imagine how such a skill might be employed against an enemy, if he were ever to acquire one that deserved it.

Ivar nodded to himself, a decisive look crossing his features. He would have to delve further into the subject, conduct more research and gather all the knowledge he could. It was an avenue of study that held a great deal of potential, a tool that could tip the scales in his favor when it mattered most.

With a steady hand, Ivar carefully stowed the piece of illumite in the pocket of his robe, shielding its light from sight. The sudden darkness that enveloped him was disorienting at first, but his eyes gradually adjusted to the limited visibility. The soft glow from the lingering flames provided just enough illumination to discern shapes and movements.

Ivar followed along while trying to keep quiet. He couldn’t help but notice that his footsteps were the loudest of the bunch. He cautiously moved forward, taking care to tread as quietly as possible on the cavernous floor. His gaze darted around, trying to catch sight of Hector or any other threats that might be lurking in the shadows. However, the darkness was thick and uncompromising, revealing little of what lay beyond his immediate vicinity. Deciding to stay on the safe side, Ivar chose to maintain a distance from Virgil. While he was grateful for the vampire's protection, he also understood the danger of being too close to him. With each step he took, he tried to match his pace to Virgil's, ensuring that he wasn't left behind or caught too close to the action.

As the scene unfolded before him, Ivar felt a cold shiver run down his spine. The ghastly sight of the zombified people and the brutal way in which Virgil dispatched it was horrifying, yet, he couldn't deny the rush of adrenaline that accompanied the sight. His mind buzzed with anxiety, but he knew this was not the time or place to indulge in such thoughts. Survival was the priority now, everything else could wait.

Ivar drew and held the katana in his hands tightly. He teleported, suddenly appearing behind one unsuspecting zombie. His blade swung with as much force as he could muster. The zombie groaned and stumbled, but it did not fall. Ivar's attack, while surprising, had not been lethal.

A sinking feeling of dread welled up in him, but there was no time for second-guessing. Swiftly, he teleported again, appearing behind a second zombie. His grip on the katana tightened as he aimed for a decisive strike, but the result was much the same. The zombie staggered, wounded but far from defeated. Ivar's strength and skill were simply not enough.

The harsh reality of his situation beginning to set in. The thrill of the fight was quickly replaced by a growing sense of dread. His attacks were ineffective, his skills inadequate. Despite the many hours he had spent training with his katana, he found himself lacking when it truly mattered.

Undeterred, he teleported a third time, attempting yet again to fell a zombie by hacking through its neck but he couldn’t cut more than a few inches deep. Like before, the creature merely grunted and lumbered forward, undaunted by his attack. In the quiet that followed, Ivar found himself blinking so that he would be perched atop one of their makeshift shelters.

If he contributed anything to the fight it was being a small distraction for the others to take advantage of. Feeling as though he’d done enough for now he decided to phase and drop down into one of the shelters. He didn’t know what the hell they needed a shelter for if they were undead but he snooped around and tried to find something worth nicking.

[Hector]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

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Hector’s lurking was, in part, to see if Ivar would have the bravery to join the fight at all– any disciplined Traverser would be safe in this scenario, so despite his apparent lack of swordsmanship, he’d still be able to help. Plus, cowardice was boring, and even if the man were to make a mistake, he’d been assured that he’d be protected; Ivar had nothing to lose by trying.

To Hector’s delight and amusement, Ivar did have the arcane prowess, and the balls, to join the fray, striking at the other undead while Vergil handled the mage. In the same moment, the elven vampyr reacted immediately, setting the second two Brands he’d drawn alight as soon as Ivar’s sword struck its first target. One brand was Adrenosis– a temporary boon like the Veracity he’d already been granted, only this one was a preternatural hormonal boost; it’d give him a flood of adrenaline, but the magical nature of the spell gave him greater reflexes, perception and agility than what one would gain from naturally produced adrenaline.

While these first two Brands were temporary boons, the third was a permanent gift. The shift would be strange but not painful; Ivar’s muscle tissue would uniformly increase in both density and elasticity. The change was fundamental to the tissue itself; he’ll still gain and lose muscle from activity like normal, but no matter the case, he’ll be about 1.5x stronger than he otherwise would’ve been without receiving this alteration. Like anything else done through Vicissitude, this could only be undone by a similar magical manipulation. With all three brands now working in tandem, by his third teleportation, his strike actually did manage to mortally wound his foe prior to his retreat. If Ivar wanted, he'd have both the time and energy to strike again with his newfound strength.

But while Vergil and Ivar fought, Hector was doing a bit more than just observing. Cloaked in shadow, the vampyr had stalked 'round the rotten, ramshackle site looking for a good vantage point. He found one– pieces of rusted, corrugated metal, warped and twisted along with rotting wood, bones and viscera all hobbled together (or perhaps simply discarded?) to form a sad looking yet surprisingly sturdy little hut; Hector perched atop it.

He looked down at the scene before him like a curious predator, a mechanical, bird-like air to the way he moved; this being a passive trait that seemed to come along with the more dominant magnetoreception he'd gained from his first Animus totem: the noble pigeon. Further, Hector had given himself the bird's inner eyelid through Mimicry; it didn't improve his vision but it helped protect his eyes from the impurities in the air (and the potential of anything splashing into them) in preparation for his own strike. Growing his nails into claws and cutting his own arm, he’d let himself bleed, manipulating the blood with Thaumaturgy such that it would crawl along the ground, ribbons of his blood splintering off such that at least one would reach most major parts of the camp.

In this darkness, the spread of his blood would be nigh impossible to see– even further so because it was not red. Infusing his spilt vitae with one of his quirks, the liquid was nearly black; it’d only reflect any notes of red in direct light…of which there was none. And once he felt that both Vergil and Ivar had made their show in combat, Hector would strike. With the speed of a serpent’s strike and all at once, several spikes of this blackened blood would impale every zombie within Hector’s line of sight. As a result, most of them were killed instantly– but one or two still stirred. Perhaps it was worth it to try talking to the ones that remained?

- - -

Aidolon Speech

"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"

[Ivar]

Standing within the confines of the makeshift shelter, Ivar was enveloped by a feeling of unusual potency coursing through his veins. His heart pounded in his chest, beating a wild rhythm that echoed in his ears, making him aware of an adrenaline rush greater than he had ever experienced. The sensations coursing through him were as exciting as they were terrifying, a heady mixture of fear and exhilaration that took his breath away.

The mystical energies from the brands seemed to bolster his physical abilities, giving him a strength that felt both alien and yet wholly his. He was stronger, more alert, his senses razor-sharp. He felt a twitch of fear, but it was quickly overridden by the primal thrill of his newfound power.

In the midst of this euphoria, Ivar found himself instinctively grasping the handle of his katana. The familiar weapon offered a semblance of comfort amidst the chaotic rush of sensations. With a swift motion, he swung the katana, slashing it into the wooden wall of the shelter. To his astonishment, the blade sliced through the material with an ease that made his jaw drop.

Emerging from the confines of the shelter, Ivar was ready to kill more zombies. But as he scanned his surroundings, he saw that the ground was littered with fallen bodies, not a single one of them standing. Confusion laced with disbelief filled him as he called out, his voice echoing in the haunting silence, "What the hell happened to the zombies?"

“Gods, how long was I in there? Like thirty seconds?” he asked as he shook his head. Had his perception of time changed too? He tried to calm down as he jogged over to meet up with Vergil but that was almost impossible. He didn’t know how he was going to go back to living like a normal person after all of these effects wore off.

[Hector]

Review

Ivar

Points: 10 traversion or mundane
Injuries/Ailments:
Loot:
+1 Vicissitude alteration (1.5x strength through modifications to muscle tissue structure)

Hector

Points: 10, animus exp
Injuries/Ailments:
Loot: None

Notes: to be continued...also the underline on the 'e' took me out LMAOOOOOOO