Recovery

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Masagh
Posts: 193
Joined: Mon Oct 03, 2022 6:51 pm
Title: Highborn
Location: Ecith
Character Sheet: viewtopic.php?t=3798
Plot Notes: viewtopic.php?t=3804
Character Secrets: viewtopic.php?p=21241#p21241



87th Day of Searing, 124th Year of the Age of Steel
Somewhere in Ecith...


All was still and dark. The murky water around Masagh cooled and silenced the world. The silt mud of the riverbed shrouded his form. Inside, his pain was loud and undiminished. When he had first arrived to this untamed place Masagh had attempted to transform with his Animus Rune. He had depleted so much aether and overtaxed himself so thoroughly that the rune did not even respond.

Instead he curled in upon himself and fought the hunger. Indira had been the only reason he survived those first few hours. The ghost had drifted out in the water and returned with small meals for him. A juvenile river eel once, a catfish the next. It was not enough to assuage his pains, but it was enough to keep Masagh present in his own mind.

As a Highborn ghoul Masagh was capable of withering his own physical form to overflow himself with aether. The purity of his line had given him this relic of the progenitor. It came at a cost though. Pain and hunger, madness and inevitably death if you did not feed in time. He had staved off this threat with the measly portions his ghost companion had brought, but such was not enough to recover him. With such a heavy cost, it was no wonder Emerande had told her children not to use the ability unless absolutely necessary.

He had used it without a second thought in order to save his sister.

Now Sabrione was safe at home in Gel’Grandal while Masagh and Indira were lost in some tropical jungle. One which they were unsure was on Ransera. But they had not died yet. Death, Masagh thought as he curled at the bottom of the riverbed, would have been a mercy compared to the hunger. He was barely strong enough to eat the meals Indira had brought him, let alone hunt himself or cast spells.

Effectually useless, the ghoul sat in his own frustration. That was a good sign. Before he had not even been conscious enough to feel frustration. When the burn sapped his body and he did not feed, it started to consume his mind as well. When they had appeared in this place he could not even recognize Indira. Now his crippled state was only physical. Under the water of the riverbed, hiding from the sun’s killing rays, it was not such a great thing to be stuck in his own mind.

He wondered if Sabrione had made it home safely. He had barely seen enough of her to determine that she could recover. Sure, he had given her a meal of vampire hearts before she left, but what if the Kinvaren finally retaliated against his family in force? A weakened Sabrione and the novice Riah were all that was left of the knights now. His dark thoughts on his family were interrupted with his mind breaking hunger once again.

Masagh bent silently into the silt of the riverbed. He clutched with clawed hands at his own abnormally lean abdomen. The cloudiness was returning to his mind, blurring details that had been clear moments before. It would worsen before long. Had he fought his way through a crowd of vampires and escaped a void beast just to die of hunger here in the middle of a jungle?

“Masagh.” Indira’s voice floated through the water come close behind. Twisting over himself, Masagh could make out her silhouette in the murk. “It is almost nightfall.” His savior said in tone one would take at the bedside of a sick person in agony. “I’ve brought you another catfish, this one is bigger! I’m getting much better at it.” She said, her tone bright despite the situation.

He reached for the prize greedily. While weak, his fingers clasped the struggling fish like a vice as he brought the side to his mouth. This fish didn’t have scales and the meat came away easily as he bit into it. Every waterlogged mouthful was like a gift of pleasure and sanity. It doused the flames of pain inside him. For a time he just ate and Indira watched.

The large catfish brought him back from the brink. The hunger was still there. It ached in his intestines and in his joints as he pulled the last of the meat from the catfish’s spine. It was like a candle to the bonfire it had been before though. His mind was clearer than it had been in hours. Most importantly, he could cast spells again. He felt the aether coagulating in him, a balm to the burn. He had to be careful. Using too much again would send him over the edge and no meal would bring him back.

He turned to the ghost and gave her a gesture of thanks. He could not speak to her under the water. He pointed to his mouth, then made a hand gesture for a mouth biting. Then mimicked swimming around. She tilted her head in confusion.

He had enough aether to safely cast a single spell perhaps, and something on the weaker side of his arsenal. Luckily Masagh was in the perfect position for one of his abilities. He carefully rationed the least amount of aether it would take to make the transformation. It trickled through him, changing his form slowly so as to be as economic with his reserve as possible.

Thirty seconds later and the ghoul had been replaced with the long dark form of the crocodile totem he had been using for so long. It had never seemed more at home than in this unfamiliar river. Indira nodded vigorously and disappeared inside him.

“I had no idea what you meant.” She said as if right next to him. “I’m glad you can use magic again!”

Masagh rolled once to show his agreement. Then he swayed the familiar long tail and began to drift along the river. He didn’t care which way he was going. He could not get his bearings with the sun still up anyway. No, the goal for this was simply to feast on whatever he could find. He would deal with where he was and how to survive after his body had recovered.

That was fine. After saving his sister, fighting a coven of vampires, escaping a Slipcase horror, and surviving the drain of his Vitality Burn Masagh was ready for a slow night of recovery. He slid easily through the water in this form. While he had eaten enough to stave off the hunger, he still needed a large meal to reach internal stability. Or at least enough small meals.

“You know it’s pretty boring just possessing a crocodile in a dark river…” Indira said after a while. He had managed to catch another fish and a small turtle, but nothing more in the 30 minutes since he had transformed. They meandered down the river slowly, aimlessly. “I think you could go to the surface by now, the sun is probably down.”

In response Masagh snapped his jaws and rose gradually. He broke the surface of the river with only his nostrils and eyes. Immediately the cacophony of jungle sounds greeted him. Above, an unfamiliar sea of stars twinkled over the dark shadows of the canopy. Frogs called and fish flopped in the water occasionally. After so long underwater it was all very loud. It made him feel less alone.

“Much better!” Indira said. “At least now I can see something.” She was whispering, as if the animals might hear her and run away from him. They might, but Masagh was glad for her voice and her company.

It was another hour of slowly slinking along the river before he found his first substantial meal. There had been no sign of civilization in that time and Indira had once again fallen silent. Masagh had almost passed the leopard by the time he spotted it. Sleek and mottled, it crouched beside the river bank. It was the rhythmic movements of its bright pink tongue that gave the animal away.

The crocodile turned slowly in the water, giving nothing away. He drifted back under the surface, tail propelling him towards his next meal. Ripples dispersed across the surface of the river from where the leopard’s tongue licked. Masagh poised carefully in the water, inky eyes focusing. He would have only one chance.

An explosion of water cascaded as Masagh launched his powerful form forward. His long jaws bit down, slightly misjudging and missing the leopard’s head. Teeth bit down on the thing’s forepaw though. It immediately began hissing and spitting, desperately lashing about. Curved claws lacerated his scaled snout. Face contorted in rage, the jungle cat was dragged forward further into the water. Masagh did not adjust his grip. The leopard would be too fast to escape if he did. Instead he held firm and pulled it under the water.

A moment of defeat when his powerful jaws bit through the leopard’s paw and the thing broken free. They had been submerged in a man’s height of water by then though, and they were in his domain. He spanned forward again and caught the leopard in the flank. He pulled it further into the river. Masagh simply held the thing until it lost the energy to fight. Then he consumed it whole.

“That was horrific.” Indira said gloomily. “I never thought death would be the most exciting stage of life, you know.”

Masagh bobbed his head as he felt the leopard sliding further into his gullet. It was the most wonderful meal he had ever had. He already felt the effects of the fresh flesh revitalizing his body and aether. It was another perhaps half an hour before he felt the full effects of the meal. His aether had replenished enough that he could reliably use all his runes.

Rising to the surface, Masagh transformed back into his normal form. He tried water over to the edge and sat down heavily.

“Oh good! You’re back to normal again?” Indira exclaimed, materializing next to him. Her relief was evident. “I was so worried I had lost you. That I would live out the rest of my time haunting a feral undead in an unfamiliar jungle.”

“Thank you, Indira. You saved me.” He rasped, lethargic in the glow of his meal. “Sabrione and I would be dead if not for you.”

She smiled weakly. “Yes, I’m amazing.” She agreed. “But we aren’t exactly out of the woods as they say.” She looked around at the dark wilderness. “We haven’t even seen any sign of civiliztion here. Wherever here is.”

He glanced at her. The ghost who he had made promises to and failed to live up to them. The bookbinder who loved to read. He had brought her here, to this dangerous place far from home. It was through his error that they were here. “I’m sorry, Indira. It seems I am not the man I thought I could be.”

She scoffed at him. “Don’t wallow in the self pity, Masagh. You already wear black and only go out at night.” She leaned back and smiled. “We’re still here, and we’ve got everything we need. You’re a strong wizard and it’s not like we have to worry about dying after all.” She glanced around. “It’s actually sort of exciting. I would have never made it somewhere like this in my previous life.”

He grunted a laugh. “You’re right.”

“And Sabrione definitely survived.” Indira said with conviction. He looked at her. She shrugged. “She’s the one who taught you how to Traverse after all, right? And she had a gross bag full of vampire hearts. I’m not worried about her.”

That was a good point. Sure she had been withered and weak when he found her, but Sabrione was a knight as well. She had been better off than he had been when he made his escape. Either way, there was nothing he could do for his sister now. Figuring out how he had Indira would survive this place was the priority.

word count: 2080

• Knight of House Creth
Fademantle of Apocrypha: 7 Links •
• Highborn Ghoul •

User avatar
Masagh
Posts: 193
Joined: Mon Oct 03, 2022 6:51 pm
Title: Highborn
Location: Ecith
Character Sheet: viewtopic.php?t=3798
Plot Notes: viewtopic.php?t=3804
Character Secrets: viewtopic.php?p=21241#p21241




“You’re right. I’d be a fool to discount her.” Masagh admitted. “Okay, so we need to see if we can find people around here.” He flexed his newly revitalized fingers. “I think I have almost completely replenished myself, so my magics should be fine. I think we follow the river until we find someone, then we go from there. What do you think?”

She nodded, clearly relieved he seemed back to himself. “Perfect. If there is a town or something it will be along the river most likely.”

“And we will have no issue hunting anymore.” Masagh materialized Ghoulblade in his hand, ignoring the faint pang of pain. “I think I will take flight to move quicker.”

He fought his own paranoia at being seen and decided to opt for conjuring the ptertincus wings in a partial transformation rather than a full one. They didn’t even know if they were still on Ransera, and Indira had been without companionship for so long he didn’t want to deprive her further. Instead he flew in his chimera form while she soared along beside him. They flew lazily just above the canopy, following the river. He and Indira discussed their immediate plans and contemplated the landscape.

It was another hour before anything significant occurred. The first sign of civilization was, as one might expect, the minute glow of firelight along the banks of the river in the distance. Masagh pulled himself up, hovering in the sky. While the moon was bright and the sky clear tonight he doubted anything could see him through the canopy so far away. Indira drifted to a halt beside him. She had also fashioned herself wings, though hers were beautiful feathered things like those of an Avialae.

They looked at each other.

“I’m going to change and take a closer look.” Masagh said, unable to rein in his own excitement. They would finally get some sort of hint as to where they were. Indira nodded and disappeared again. He felt the rush of warmth liveliness as she passively possessed him. Then he sent a mental pulse of willpower to his aether.

His body changed, rapidly folding in on itself. The diminutive form of the pterincus flying lizard flapped where the winged ghoul had been. Together the ghoul and the ghost winged their way towards the light.

Civilization was a stretch of the word in this case. A small moss covered pier jutted out from the bank and four shabby buildings huddled close to it. A muddy space between them housed a wagon and three horses. It was on this wagon that the source of the light bobbed animatedly. While it wasn’t much, this was enough to send his heart soaring. Those were people in that clearing. One stood in the wagon driver’s bench and waved a torch as he spoke.

Ah Masagh approached and perched on the eave of the only two story building his excitement grew further. These humans were speaking the common tongue. So he was still on Ransera!

“And if you will believe it, I’ll tell ya they attacked!” The man who waved the torch was saying. “Like rabid animals! Now I know there are places where undead are looked down on and such. But here in Ecith we got a decent population of them. That’s to say if they mind their own, then we leave them to it-”

“Just get to the point Rankir!” A young woman said, cradling a crossbow in her arms. She wore a wide brimmed woven hat.


“Right, right you are Mel.” Rankir said. “Well these ones were attacking! They weren’t civilized like your normal undead. Done had us all running through the jungle, fighting them off.” Rankir prattled on. “Mind you, I was scrappy back in my day, but haven’t had to do nothing like that in years! Why I recon when I was your age there Bellins, I could-”

“Rankir if you don’t stay on topic and tell me what the fuck happened…” Mel waved her crossbow at the old man.

“Right you are Mel!” Rankir said again. “Well anyways, the three of us managed to get to the wagons fine, but one of them undead got to Mister Fulton’s horse. Blood spewin’ like nothing else I ever seen! Poor thing dropped dead that moment. Why I remember when-” But Rankir caught something in Mel’s face and stopped. “Well Fulton and his younguns couldn’t well ride out of camp on account of their horse being recently dead. We couldn’t get back to them on account of the undead doing the killing. So we had to leave.” Rankir finished sadly.

Ecith. A thrill of elation. They were still on Ransera! Masagh had heard of the continent but never been. Wild and untamed, it was one the other side of the world from Gel’Grandal. The conversation had Masagh curious. They spoke of undead, with the old man claiming these rabid undead were unlike the civilized undead in Ecith. Did this region boast a more welcoming attitude towards the Graveborn than Gel’Grandal?

“And you three are the only ones who made it out?” Mel asked, glancing between Rankir and the other two. Both of the others carried curved blades and smaller, less lethal crossbows than her own.

“Yes, ma’am.” Said one of the others timidly.

“Shit, that’ll set us back. The loss of our cartographer and a gods damned horse to boot.” Mel cursed. “How far is the camp?” She asked Rankir.

“Oh about two days north by wagon.” Rankir mused. “Base on the mountain.” He looked worried she was going to send him back on some half baked rescue.

Mel bit her lip and stared off at nothing. “You sure they dead, Rank?” She asked in a grave voice.

Rankir breathed out a long breath through his lips. “I mean, I didn’t see it. So no. But these were more than twenty undead mind you. They were too many.” Rankir admitted. “We should be thinkin’ about how we going to do here as a matter of fact.”

“Oh don’t you worry your pretty little head over that, Rank.” Mel said with quiet violence. “Me and mine got that covered.”

Masagh liked her.

What were the chances that after all that had happened to them they would stumble on this? Indira had said the old lich visited with a necromancer in Ecith before his death. Could that necromancer still live? Had it caused all these feral undead to terrorize this frontier community? Or was the situation more complex? If undead are welcomed here it meant Greaveborn were relatively common. If that was true, connecting those lines was a strain on even the most delusional logic. Still, Masagh wanted to see these feral undead for himself.

The group moved their conversation inside the big building he perched on. One of Rankir’s men had taken the horses into another of the buildings which turned out to be a shabby stable. The small little compound fell silent and dark again.

“They can’t be talking about the necromancer Lithiricus visited, right?” Indira whispered, mirroring his own thoughts.

Masagh ruffled his wings and then transformed back into him ghoulish form. He crouched over the eave, shrouded in his black armor and the Fademantle. With the loss of half his foot in the battle the day before he had ditched both his boots. His foot had grown back but the boot had been destroyed. And wearing one boot was simply ridiculous, so now he was barefoot.

“I don’t know, but we are going to find out.” He answered. Then he tapped into his Animus rune once again to sprout wings. Taking off he headed north along the winding trail the wagon had come.

word count: 1325

• Knight of House Creth
Fademantle of Apocrypha: 7 Links •
• Highborn Ghoul •

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