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Those Rare Few in Magic who are Actually Immune. (Dragonsong)

Started by Wrathwyrm, December 10, 2017, 06:48:53 PM

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Wrathwyrm

These northern territories were often cold, but a little thing like weather never meant much to her.  Though she wandered, she did so with purpose.  There was a destination in mind for this journey, a place that no person in their right mind should ever be going to.  However, the two things of importance about that kind of statement is that, first, it would be accurately said that she was not in her right mind.  Her mind was very wrong.  It worked just fine, but a normal human of any culture would immediately find that something was very off.

The second thing, of course, was that she was no normal human.  Maybe not human at all.

Let's have a look here, for a moment.  The figure making their way to the north was, on the outside, a bone-jackal-thing.  She had been running on all-fours, previously, but now that her target was so close, she slowed to a relentless walk towards it, and the full-on jackal had changed into a humanoid animal-demon thing.  This was simply an ever-changeable armor of bone.  Though it was a robust humanoid-animalesque form, it was protecting a smaller form, which is where all the female connotations come in.

She was actually a she under there, a necromancer known as Elise Anicetus.

The product of a necromantic avatar and a cursed-immortal necromancer, she did not fear the dangers of Fell.  While it is true that any mage - any studier of the arts who practiced a power beyond their natural areas of expertise - could be infected with a plague of chaotic magic, her abilities came straight from within, and needed only to be molded to skillful use.  She was a necromancer by nature, a specialist in bone who gains strength and regenerative health from killing things.  You can't taint that kind of power from her kind of pedigree.

Why was she here?  Well, why don't you ask her?

DragonSong

Damien groaned and sat up from his snow drift, shaking the flakes that had collected out of his hair. He scowled in the general direction of the vibrations that had woken him. He couldn't quite make out what it was- maybe a north bear, judging by the size and color- but he was not in the mood to deal with it.

Best be moving along then. With another groan, the revenant got to his feet and dusted himself off. He must have been lying in that snow drift for close to a day, just...lying there.

Not like he had anything better to do, most days.

Wrathwyrm

As soon as there was movement within that snowdrift, the bone-jackal form stopped, became utterly still.  Since Damien was not looking, he was unaware that the thing had covered its eyes in caps of bone.  It had been moving forwards, and only looking out into the world here and there because the wind could be fierce.  Snow-blindness was a terrible thing to have.  The caps opened, and blue eyes that...at least seemed human...looked out at things.

Yes, there was something there.  Dormant, she hadn't sensed it, but once it got moving...  Well, it was clear that it was a zombie.  That was relevent to her interests.  So saying, the figure now began to proceed directly towards Damien, same pace as before.  The eye-caps remained open, and the eyes themselves seemed to rarely blink.

DragonSong

Well.

That was certainly not a bear.

"Oh, perfect." Damien glanced around. Snow, snow, and more snow. No where to hide or try to run.

Of course, why should he bother? Wasn't like the thing could actually kill him.

Though he supposed it could tear an arm off or something. That would probably hurt. A lot.

Welp. Better start moving. One eye cautiously on the strange bone creature, he began backing away, hoping it might not be interested in him.

Wrathwyrm

Yeah, no.  She was heading right for him, and near constant in pace.  There was little else to focus on at this time or be distracted by.  She wasn't IN the ruins yet, and this was a most curious circumstance.  What was a single solitary fleshwalker doing all the way out here?  As he started to back away, her pace quickened, just a little.  She wanted to close in, but she wasn't getting overt with this...yet.  If he gave chase, though, there was going to be problems.

DragonSong

Damien kept backing up. "Um, easy there," he mumbled, still looking around for the best direction to start running. "Good bone-dog. Niiiiice bone-dog. Just...run along now, good boy."

Wrathwyrm

The bone-jackal was within earshot when the zombie spoke.  Curiously, it DID cock its head to the side when he said what he said, partially because of what he said, but more due to the fact that he spoke at all.  However, Damien was in for a surprise when a rather calm and echoing female voice came out of the jackal's mouth.

"I am not a boy, nor am I a dog.  Why should I go anywhere?"

The thing was close enough that Damien could probably see that the eyes in there were more human-looking than anything.  Someone was in there.

DragonSong

"Ack!" If his heart still beat, he was sure it would have skipped one. Eyes wide, he exclaimed, "What the hell?! What are you?"

Wrathwyrm

This was very strange to her.  It was a zombie.  Why did ithave expression, even voice?  Why did it seem as though it might've had a soul?  It should not have been the case, so why?  What was even stranger was that it did not seem to know what she was, by nature.  For some reason, it did not sense the power she contained and intrindically know that it was in the presence of a master of the dead.  That was both strange...and wrong.

"I am a necromancer.  But since you didn't know that, I must assume that you have no master, which is strange.  Who resurrected you this way?"

DragonSong

Oh shit. Damien backed up quickly, now seriously searching for an escape route.

Necromancer. Just his luck.

Eyes narrowed, he snapped, "I don't have a master. And it's...kind of a long story. So if you'll just excuse me..." Maybe she'd just let him go?

Wrathwyrm

The zombie backed away, as though in fright.  This was unacceptable.  Zombies were not fearful creatures.  They were creatures OF fear.  For some reason, this one was made wrong.  It should be punished...  No, it's creator should be punished, and then probably turned into a proper undead as demonstration to this one on how it's done.  In the meantime, this one wanted to leave...  He would watch as the jackal-humanoid crackled and changed, so that it was now on all-fours, with all limbs more-or-less shaped like the beast.  How could she herself orient herself like that?  That was definitely not human...  However, what it meant was that she was poised to strike, and with speed.

"Do you really want to run?"

With long claws and teeth that lengthened as he watched, she could be on him in seconds and tear him to pieces!

DragonSong

Well shit.

Damien froze. "Look. Just let me go. I'm not hurting anyone out here, just- just leave me be."

Wrathwyrm

"I can't simply let you go.  You're not a lich, nor are you a servant, but you are both undead and aware."

The jackal sat down on its haunches, the blue eyes that seemed human...yet disturbing in their glare...narrowing slightly as her focus remained squarely on him.

"I want to hear the story.  You don't have anywhere to be this minute, so you can tell it to me."

DragonSong

"Yeah, um, no." He frowned at the creature and backed up another step. "Why the hell should I? You can't just go around making random, personal demands of people. You'll never make friends that way." He was almost trying to joke, but his tone couldn't quite manage it.

Wrathwyrm

She was going to mock him outright, but his mention of friends actually coaxed two different memories that began to clash with one another.  There was no outward struggle, but inside there was a problematic issue.  The truth is...she did have a couple friends - living friends - of sorts.  However, her creator - whom did not even remotely like to be called father - had stated that they did not need friends, allies, or anything among the living world.  Indeed, there was no need for even any sense of the familial, ironic or otherwise.  As much as her mother treated her as a daughter, her father was her creator, and nothing more.  Her respect for him was unyielding, but then...she had also gotten along well enough with a pair of mortals on Thanati.  Eventually, the jackal-shaped thing shifted slightly and said...

"That is not...strictly true...in either of those statements."

That uncomfortable feeling she had did not last long, as she re-asserted the fact that she was speaking to a zombie.  He had the sense of personal identity like one of her father's servants, but even they were servators.  This was merely a random undead.  He did not even have the so-called rights that a living being professed.

"At any rate, you are no longer a human being.  You're a spawn of necromancy.  As far as your 'life' is concerned, all necromancers are as nobles and royalty to you.  And if you don't like it, I can bring soldiers to bear, or tear you apart myself."

A bony tail extracted itself from the jackal-like body, poised like a scorpion's stinger now.

"So, what part of this made you think your rights or friendship were up for discussion?  I am here for a purpose, and I need not any 'free' zombies causing trouble.  Shall I suspend curiosity in favor of elimination?"

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