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Of Flesh Most Foul
Posted: Mon Jul 31, 2023 9:50 am
by Hector
TIMESTAMP: Solace 11, Glade 123
NOTES: -
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Still crouching like a little gargoyle atop the the largest of the little hobbled together shelters, Hector would pull back the fabric of his sleeve, thick in texture and deep black in color, revealing the soft light of a lunicite dragonshard mounted seamlessly into the wrist of a rather ornate looking gauntlet. The thing was a complex piece of jewelry, delicate metal extending down the back of his hand like shimmering bones, ending in connection with silvery rings on each of the elf’s fingers aside from his thumb. The point, however, was to utilize the pale moonlight provided by the shard.
Lit by this aetherial glow, Hector would give the notably bewildered Ivar a cheery sort of smile. Channeling aether through the shard, it would glow ever the brighter, now rivaling the brightness of ivar’s illumite. While he did this, he’d willed his blood to trickle into a small puddle in front of the man and, abruptly, a sharp spike of metal would make manifest, shooting from the ground before him and piercing nothing, dissipating just as quickly.
“That’s what happened,” he’d say by way of vague explanation, one followed by an impish sort of giggle.
“And yes– your perception of time is correct, I just move quick and am well practiced,” he said with a shrug.
Working with Vergil and both of them being of equal competence with their respective skill sets, Hector was genuinely prone to forgetting how intimidating his prowess could come across as to some. Ivar possessed some competence with Traversion, but that wasn’t a directly offensive magic (it could be used aggressively, but it was nevertheless utility), and the man worked in the trade of information– it was a little silly of Hector to have assumed he’d shrug off his magic, particularly because the esoteric nature thereof was notably stranger than seeing, say, a master Elementalist’s obliteration of a target with fire or earth.
Vergil’s weapon might appear as if it was absorbing the blood it had spilt, but that could’ve also been a trick of the light– who could tell, really? Nevertheless, he’d sheath it, surveying the bodies around him that Ivar had nicked and Hector had broken.
On the ground a few feet in front of the main structure Hector sat atop was one that wasn’t quite dead, however. Sensing the life within it through the perception provided by his own blood, he’d left the spike that’d impaled it intact. Vergil would walk to approach it, an inquisitive tilt to his head.
The zombie was a scared looking woman, one who, remarkably, was pristine in comparison to the rot that surrounded them. She bore features of a Kalzasern native, pale skin, dark hair, and deep, amber eyes. It was clear she was dead, but clearer still was the fact that she must’ve turned into this state recently. The younger vampyr perched above was quite curious and he’d leap down, the swirling mist of his Aidolon thickening into spectral hands that, gripping him, slowed his fall along with an odd flurry of...feathers? Strange as this looked, it was elegant all the same.
Poking at the girl’s shoulder with an almost avian tilt to his head, “...and how’d you end up here?”
Vergil’s eyes would narrow at the sheer lack of sensitivity with which the boy had asked that, but he’d say nothing for the moment– Hector wasn’t being needlessly cruel.
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Aidolon Speech
"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"
"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"
Re: Of Flesh Most Foul
Posted: Mon Jul 31, 2023 3:11 pm
by Ivar
Ivar blinked, his eyes struggling to adjust as Hector lit the night with the glow of his lunicite dragonshard. His demonstration had Ivar stepping back in surprise. The sudden spike appearing from the blood puddle only added to the surreal feeling enveloping him. As the spike disappeared as quickly as it had formed, Ivar was left staring at the spot, aghast. It was clear that these two practiced forms of magic that made absolutely no sense to him.
"Well, that's one hell of a trick," he finally said.
At this point even seeing Vergil absorb blood into his sword didn’t really seem suspicious. Everything they did was so out of the ordinary that he just accepted that they were in a league of their own.
He went to look at the woman along with the other two. The poor woman was a disturbing sight. He grimaced, a deep unease settling in his stomach as he watched Hector. He didn’t have much to say about the woman. If she was really a zombie she kind of needed to die to ensure the safety of the living.
"You know," Ivar began, gesturing towards the undead woman. "I can't help but wonder how she ended up here. Was she a sewer dweller or a surface dweller turned zombie that someone dropped here?" He felt like you’d have to be pretty stupid for her to be wandering around this area since it was just asking to be eaten by a zombie. Then again, they were doing the same thing and something could conceivably happen to them as well.
“What’s the plan now? Are there more zombies to go after or are you done here?” Ivar asked. “I didn’t see anything of obvious value in the shelters over there. I don’t know why I expected there to be, to be honest.”
Re: Of Flesh Most Foul
Posted: Tue Aug 01, 2023 7:21 am
by Hector
TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -
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Hector giggled in a fashion almost puerile at Ivar’s response, “...isn’t it just?”
He’d not elaborate on the mechanics of it, but frankly, the blood he wielded was so black it was easy to mistake as part of his Aidolon– and that was the lie he’d always default to when questioned, too.
Ivar’s musings about why the woman was here were precisely why Hector had asked her directly, though in the moment, he wasn’t entirely sure if the woman was capable of responding. The undead were…well, dead, and consequently, though their bodies were animated, that didn’t mean that they weren’t broken. However, it would appear that this particular person was still capable of speech.
Her face was painstricken, likely because of her wounds, but she also looked to be suffering emotional anguish on top of that. “Just end me,” she pleaded.
Hector looked irritated– he wanted actual answers, but due to his low empathy, he failed to understand the gravity of a situation like this for the poor girl. Her life, whatever it once was, had already been destroyed when she’d died and now she was impaled by the magic of somebody too careless, or perhaps callous, to give her any sympathy at all.
Hector tilted his head in consideration, and when he’d blink, the additional eyelid from his pigeon totem would be visible. “But who were you?”
Though he pressed a second time, it would be for naught. The girl would grimace and her eyes narrowed, and…ah, that’s what it was. The look in her eyes– it was hate. She wasn’t going to answer, and Hector was full well aware Vergil wouldn’t entertain him forcing answers out of her. The elf would simply sigh, disappointed. Lifting his left hand in a fashion that almost seemed like a half shrug, some of the blackened blood he’d left all over the chamber would swirl into the air in an inky black tendril– but it refracted the tiniest bit of red in the lunicite’s glow.
“Fine,” he’d say; a flippant response.
Less than a second after that word left the witch’s lips, the tendril of blood would snap into the shape of another spike and, quick as a serpent’s bite, it would pierce through the bottom of the woman’s skull, long enough to break the top of it, ending her. Vergil would put a hand on Hector’s shoulder, and when Hector looked at him, the other man gave him a soft smile, as if in approval. Strange– but the truth of it was that Hector was not a merciful person and it genuinely took significant restraint on his end to kill her cleanly. Though both men were predators, Hector liked to play with his food.
When Ivar inquired about what they were doing next, Hector shrugged, walking off to start poking around– but his movements would all be visible given the light of his dragonshard.
However, Vergil would give an actual answer. “I intend to collect samples of the Ichor that formed here…as a researcher, I’ve interest in how sites like this come to be. It’s the Ichor in the area that causes people to turn– the reasoning and process for that is not well understood.”
Looking to Ivar specifically, he’d continue, “...I’m sure if you look you might find something interesting; there’s…so many bodies.” There was a forlorn look to his features, almost sad– but given how inexpressive Vergil was, this would be hard to notice.
If Ivar looked around, he might find small things of value– discarded weapons, pieces of armor, jewelry, maybe even some money, but nothing incredibly fancy. Vergil would pull a few vials from his bag to collect Ichor, though he’d walk around for a moment to find patches of the substance that weren’t mixed with any other manner of disgusting that lined the walls and floors of the midden.
“And do feel free to ask about Necromancy if you’d like; the danger has passed,” he’d add.
Hector wasn’t really paying attention– he was looking for things that sparkled in the light of his dragonshard, crow-like in his quest.
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Aidolon Speech
"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"
"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"
Re: Of Flesh Most Foul
Posted: Tue Aug 01, 2023 8:09 am
by Ivar
Ivar watched the interaction between Hector and the zombie woman, a frown tugging at his lips. The whole thing felt wrong, the zombie woman's pleas echoing in his ears. He didn’t know zombies could even talk. Despite the sickening situation, he couldn't help but be intrigued by the unanswered questions. Internally, he mulled over the situation, his thoughts a whirlwind of questions and observations.
He studied the woman's pained face, a bitter taste crawling up the back of his throat. Her life had been stolen and her dignity stripped. There was nothing left for her but a tortured existence. And for what? So they could satisfy their curiosity?
His thoughts shifted to the woman's plea. "Just end me." Those words rang in his ears, gnawing at his conscience. He realized then that the woman's death could be a mercy, a release from her tormented existence. His grip tightened around his weapon. It was time to put the woman out of her misery, to grant her the peace that life had cruelly denied her. He would have killed her himself if someone else hadn’t beat him to it.
"Okay, I’ll go check over here" Ivar responded curtly as he calmed himself down, and went off to look around. He really did not give one flying fuck about looting the bodies for profit but he thought it was better than watching the other two do weird stuff. The grim scene was no longer bustling with the chaos of battle. Now it was a gory aftermath, the bodies of the zombies sprawled out across the ground.
As he moved through the site, he gingerly turned over the bodies, his eyes scanning for anything of interest. His hands met the cold skin of the deceased, their lifeless eyes staring into nothingness. A shiver ran down his spine. There was a surreal eeriness to the silence that had descended over them. His fingers closed around a few coins, but his heart wasn't in it. His mind was elsewhere, his thoughts returning to the zombie woman and the plea in her eyes. Despite the loathsome creatures they had become, they were once people. Perhaps it was the notion of that stolen humanity that left a sour taste in his mouth.
Finally, he turned to Vergil, "This...soul-binding you mentioned, how does it work exactly? Is it complicated? Could anyone do it or is there a lot of education that one needs before they attempt it?" He asked. His professional instincts wouldn't allow him to let an opportunity to learn more about magic slip by.
Re: Of Flesh Most Foul
Posted: Tue Aug 01, 2023 8:52 am
by Hector
TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -
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Hector’s curiosity led him to pick through a few of the bodies; he’d altered his hands to be almost bird-like in construction. Through a combination of Animus’ Chimerism and his Vitalis, they were sort of like the feet of his pigeon totem, and through Vicissitude, each talon was slightly larger and wickedly sharp. It took some skill to make a pigeon’s foot look intimidating, but somehow, Hector had managed to do it.
Beyond that, the elf shifted his hair– long and lilac, he’d worn it tied in a braid. He'd moved that braid over his shoulder to reveal part of the back of his neck. Upon that exposed skin, another eye would surface. If Ivar caught the formation of it, the process would look altogether odd; the eyelids of a closed eye would rise to the surface of his skin, and then once it got to about the size of a standard human eye, it would open. The iris was a golden hue; that color combined with its shape would make the eye itself uncannily similar to Vergil’s own. This strange third eye would shift between both Ivar and Vergil as they went about their own tasks.
As Vergil collected some of the Ichor, he’d respond to Ivar’s question. “It’s a complicated process, yes. Before you can even start, you have to craft a few tools– a ritual dagger, a Soul Totem, and a lot of Ichor. Any Necromancer should have a few Soul Totems and a supply of their own Ichor in general, but the dagger is unique to this process. The preparations alone require a grasp of Necromancy’s fundamentals, but if you’ve the drive to learn and a careful hand– ‘tis not hard,” he’d explain, his voice steady, but unemotive.
In truth, the difficulty of gathering these things varied and the ease by which somebody would learn to put them together was also variable, but Vergil, at this point in time, had become a little blind to the difficulty. He’d been practicing Necromancy since his own boyhood, which by now, was about two score years ago.
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Aidolon Speech
"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"
"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"
Re: Of Flesh Most Foul
Posted: Tue Aug 01, 2023 10:22 am
by Ivar
Ivar watched didn’t want to stare, but he was unable to tear his eyes away as Hector's hands morphed into the likeness of bird talons and proceeded to pick through the bodies with morbid curiosity. The sight was undeniably disturbing but he supposed he’d seen weirder things today. His gaze then landed on an eye that seemed to form out of nowhere. "These two…" he thought to himself.
He filed this away in his mental notes, a reminder that the world of magic, especially when it came to necromancy and body modifications, was full of endless possibilities, many of which challenged the limits of human comprehension.
Caught off guard by the sudden sink of his foot into something unsettlingly squishy and all too wet, Ivar blinked in surprise. He felt the disconcerting squelch beneath his boot as he unwittingly trod through the chest cavity of a fallen zombie. The horrid, unexpected sensation pulled him back to reality with a jolt. An expletive escaped his lips in an uncharacteristic burst of distaste as he hastily withdrew his foot from the now defiled corpse.
"Damn it," he spat out, frustration simmering in his voice. He watched as a dark, rot-infused sludge clung to the grooves of his boot. An acidic churn in his stomach urged him to distance himself from the scene, to escape the sight and smell of death, but he couldn’t just abandon these two when there was so much to learn.
Ivar resumed his task, rifling through the remnants of the deceased. The unease he felt did nothing to quench his thirst for knowledge. After all, in this dark underbelly of the world, knowledge was his only defense. And he was determined to gather as much of it as he could. Ivar listened attentively, even as he continued his search through the bodies, his hand absent-mindedly turning over a discarded weapon before he tossed it aside.
The details Vergil provided painted a daunting picture. Despite the man saying it complicated it seemed like a lot. A ritual dagger, a Soul Totem, a stash of Ichor... It was clear that this was a craft that demanded significant investment in time, resources, and dedication.
"Hmm, it actually sounds quite complicated to someone who knows little about it," Ivar admitted, lifting his gaze to meet Vergil's. "I suppose, as with most things, the beginning is the most challenging part. For someone like me, with basically exposure to Necromancy, where would you suggest I start?"
Re: Of Flesh Most Foul
Posted: Sun Nov 05, 2023 4:08 pm
by Hector
Review
Hector
Points: 10, mundane
Injuries/Ailments: n/a
Loot: None
Ivar
Points: 8, mundane
Injuries/Ailments: n/a
Loot: None
Notes: Closing this as you've lost your muse for Ivar and intend to retire him. Per the word count requirements, you've not quite hit the 1500 for the full 10, so I'm cutting it a bit.