RP:Awakening The Lich

From HollowWiki

Part of the The Lesser of Two Evils Arc



Mausoleum

This room is circular with an arched doorways leading out north and south. The doorways are grime arches with skulls indented into the stonework doomed to an eternity of starring into the gloom are their empty eyes. Many ancient stone coffins are sealed within the walls, each of which has a name and a date of death etched into the damp cold, grey stone. The room is almost pitching black and it is impossible to make out what the names are in the gloom. The only sounds that can be heard are your own footsteps upon the granite floor and the occasional drip of water from the decayed ceiling into fetid pools upon the floor. Multitudes of thick ancient spider webs hang from the ceiling as this area is not disturbed very often, save for the occasional visit from a necromancer, not the tidies of guests, many of them have left coffins open and the floor is littered in places with grimy bones.




Isen : The Mausoleum is dark, as ever, with only the faintest bit of light filtering in from above. Dust lies thick here, covering the floor like a dark grey blanket. The walls, carved out of the surrounding granite, are studded with indentures, some covered over with panels of stone that give the name of the body in the coffin behind. Some are empty, gaping like toothless mouths in the darkness. There is also something else here, a heaviness born not just from the presence of death, but from something darker, more malignant, that seems to be lurking here.


Kasyr is not the first to enter that room and disturb the veil of dust that coats every surface; rather, that particular honour is reserved for quintet of necromancers that are serving as his entourage...and as an escort to the diminuitive figure that rests shackled within their midst. Sparing a moment to discard his cigarette, and snuff it out with his boot, the revenant finally proceeds upon the heels of this solemn lot- amber gaze flickering across every surface, "Looks fairly untouched. Good."


Pyoshia was drug along with the rest of the escort, shackles and all. She tried to notice anything, smell, sight, though it was a rather difficult location to notice definitive features. With such a lack of things to be found, it mainly became, what could she sense? She wanted to report whatever she could back to Vuryal, though, it wasn't going to be easy. Inevitably, it just became more and more dead areas.. Vailkrin? Was about all she could make out..


Satoshi brings up the rear. Or rather, the half-elf she has bound in shackles of frigid mist does, as he drifts along in the air behind Satoshi, pulled on tendrils of fog linked to the kit like a morbid, living balloon. Occasionally the elvish male struggles against his frail bindings, but the half-hearted efforts, deathly pale skin, and glassy look in his eyes suggests the cryomancer has long since leeched his body of any energy he might have possessed, and since filled his veins with arctic energy to keep him sedated. Sparing a glance for the tiny figure being borne by necromancers, Satoshi murmurs to Kasyr, "Why do we need the little monster again...?"


Kasyr continues to stride into the room, carefully stepping around one of the many pools of rancid water- if only to stand alongside one of the many tombs, his hand coming to rest upon the lid. "Because we're going to be shuffling it off the mortal coil, cherie- et waking up an old...friend, in the process." It's only after saying this, that the Revenant then turns to address one of the necromancers- a particularily gnarled example of something that could pass for human, garbed in robes black as pitch, save for the crimson letterings that denote him as a priest of Vakmatharas, "You're certain that he's here?" A solemn bob of the priests head is the only response Kasyr needs, before he simply pats his hand down on top of the tomb, "Make sure the wraith is properly..bound. Then make way with the rest of the preparations."


Pyoshia is in some fashion flung around by the necromancers until she's forced on top of the tomb. Once there the man withdrew several spikes, stabbed them into her various limbs and locked her into place. She struggled minimally, nothing was truly able to be done, and went limp. Eyes moved around the various people, watching over all of them, as she tried to understand what was happening.


Satoshi 's attention to the preparations--namely the wraith's handling--wavers when her own charge writhes against his arcane chains once more, the elf's mouth set in a grimacing snarl. Drifting to his side then, the kit voices a soothing croon and lightly strokes the youth's cheek to leave a trail of hoarfrost on the flesh, instantly stilling him not with an actual calm but rather an increased dose of the ice flooding his system, dragging him deeper into his forced sleep. "This won't take long, yes~?" she asks of the revenant, flashing a lopsided smirk as she nods toward the elf, "At this rate, he's going to kill himself before he can be made useful." Of all the prey she could have caught, Satoshi managed to find the one that refuses to stop fighting even after he's been drained to death's doorstep and bewitched internally.


Kasyr can't help but stare at the half-elf, a look akin to admiration briefly flickering across his features, "Maybe we can deliver his body to Redhale after. I can appreciate a fighting spirit, as can he. For the moment, mon amour, I would appreciate if you were to position him above our wraithen charge. His point et purpose is going to be coming to fruition -very- soon." That said, the revenant makes a few sharp gestures to the necromancers present, stirring the dark mages into hastening their actions, each one taking up a position around Pyoshia. The grizzled priest of Vakmatharas takes the lead in this particular proceeding, hands drawn up towards the ceiling as sinister sibilant syllables spill forth in sorcerous song. One by one, those other necromancers join in, voices intertwining in a dark chorus. The task is two fold in this case, meant to trigger the spells they had laboured upon for weeks, so as to sever the wraiths spirit from its host- rendering its body an empty husk, whilst at the same time serving as an invitation, meant to draw and entice lingering spirits. An intent that is further amplified by the manner in which Pyoshias body exudes darkness...


Isen : That presence, that invisible, hateful shroud seems to intensify as soon as the necromancers begin their chant, palpably thickening the air around where the dark ritual is being performed. It becomes so intense that it can almost be heard, like a low whisper just below the threshold of hearing.


Pyoshia lay upon the slab in agony, the stakes causing pain to course through her entire body. It was by no means an enjoyable experience but it was an experience she had little to no control over, something she couldn't stop. The emotionless wraith couldn't fight back against the inevitable, as nothing seemed to be capable of resisting what would happen. As her essence is dragged out from her body, she fought, until she realized her will wasn't strong enough to stop the occult magic of the men pulling upon her spirit. With that, she gave in, allowing them to do as they pleased.. it'd all be over soon, yes?


Dami had a shoulder planted into the archway, her figure standing with a slight tilt. Arms crossed, a cigarette in hand, and a cold, almost emotionless expression of her own for the situation at hand. She'd heard the call, and answered it accordingly, the bond between sire and fledgling working almost as a fantasy-esque gps. She didn't need to announce her presence, she was one hundred percent positive they knew; like a child, she would be seen, and not heard, until instructed otherwise. 'What in the hell are you doing now, Kasyr?'


Satoshi 's initial shudder is an involuntary, unpleasant response to the unnatural melodies being evoked, that is until those particular dark energies begin to properly flood the area. A feral grin twists its way across the kit's features by this point, eagerly stepping forward at a beckoning gesture from one of the necromancers and dragging along the limp half-elf in the process. With a harsh jerk of her wrist, she directs the airborne captive into place above Pyoshia's prone form, the motion so sudden and violent as to nearly break the man's neck in the process. From there, she'd wait until the necessary moment, but judging from the dark, eager gleam in her eyes, there might not be an intact corpse to present to Redhale after this. But Bozrah would see to it that the half-elf didn't die quickly, either.


A Scared Workman runs in from the north, waving his hands about and yelling, "Giant rats I saw giant rats!".


Dami catches the workman, ropes him in a headlock, and quickly escorts him out. "Shhh!" A Scared Workman runs to the north, "Giant rats!".


Kasyr allows himself a smirk upon Damis' arrival, the Revenant making a simple beckoning motion towards his fledgeling. Given that the necromancers present had already been debriefed as to -who- the wraiths essence is destined for, the half-elfs presence simply spares the dark mages a step in the process. "Dami. So good of you to arrive. I would be much obliged if you were to see this through, et all." Those words, as harmless as they are in themselves, serve well enough as permission to the priest of Vakmatharas to go forward with his arcane weavings- to finish drawing forth the disjointed essence of the wraithen dryad, before forcing it into Dami, piece by corrupt piece.


Satoshi receives the signal she's been waiting for, acting upon it nearly instantaneously by means of a whistle of haunting, interwoven melodies. With an audible snap the half-elf's form is suddenly twisted as if unseen, behemoth hands have chosen then to force his upper and lower body in opposing directions, while at the same time the mind-numbing chill is ripped from his sense, rudely awakening the man into adrupt awareness to the onset of pain. The force being used to bend the elf isn't quite enough to break his spine, Satoshi holding back on that aspect purely for the sake of relishing in the screams that echo throughout the mausoleum. After all, if she broke his spine now, he'd be spared half the pain she intends to inflict upon him before death. If she's aware of events taking place with Dami, she shows no sign of it, all her energies invested in forcing her captive's limbs into impossible angles by way of the ice collected in his various joints. With each snap of bone and scream of protest, the foxkin's grin widens, encouraged onward until her music is half feral laughter. A number of moments are invested into dismantling the half-elf's joints before Satoshi's song shifts, the tune considerably more coaxing, a melody meant to call upon the internal ice once more. This time however, it isn't individual parts of the elf she focuses upon, but his entirety, the ice enveloping his skeleton in full before, with the aid of the frost turned serrated, it's drawn downward. With agonizing slowness, Satoshi's magic slices through flesh and muscle to remove an intact--if shattered in numerous places--skeleton encased in ice, leaving the last of the man's blood to rain down on Pyoshia's empty body below before his dying scream falls silent.


A Scared Workman runs in from the north, waving his hands about and yelling, "Giant rats I saw giant rats!".


Satoshi said to the Scared Workman, "C'mere. You're next."


Dami didn't really know much of what to do. Since no-one had really informed her of the finer details, she was left to work that out on her own. In fact, just what in the hell was she doing here in the first place? She was aware of Kasyr's original interest, but she failed to see why she fit into all of this. Doing as best she could to block out the agonizing screams, she'd walk to the center of the Mausoleum; the center always had a way of being the popular choice, in any situation. "Kas- if you kill me again, I swear." The bastard had put two notches on his belt with Dami,s he'd be damned if he'd be allowed a third. Taking their positions, the necromancers readied their positions for what was to come next.


Kasyr has a chesire cats' grin on his lips when Dami makes her approach. Still his fledgelings vexation manages to do very little beyond precipitate a casual roll of the Kensais eyes, "Please. Satoshi suffered through worse, et she turned out just fine." Disregarding the horrible murder of the fellow just there. But then, shes' displayed herself as more than capable of certain crueltys- this is just another drop in the pan, really. By this point, the Revenant has very little to do, hands jammed into his pockets as he observes the necrotic workings of the dark mages- the pair that had been assigned to Dami now fully absorbed within their grievous task of imbuing Pyoshias' darkened energy within its 'destined' receptacle, whilst the other three remained locked within their initial purpose. Even now, they intoned eldritch incantation, every word seeking to call upon the spirit housed within this crypt and guide it to the soon-to-be-husk that was the Wraithen Dryads body.


Pyoshia lay still upon the coffin, it seemed the end. Her body lay still, she had given up the struggle or urge to fight, the emotionless wreck just slowly watching as it's life force was sucked away until nothing remained. When finally only a husk remained, it seemed that all that happened was blood to drip down upon her limp form. The essence of Pyoshia seemed to be no more.


Isen is awake. The screams of torment, the rain of blood, the removal of life; all these things have summoned him from his slumber. The invisible, oppressive aura fades into a shadowy mist, swirling without rhyme or reason about the blood-showered stone. Tendrils reach out, gliding like vile serpents to touch the mangled body of the half elf, caressing the torn flesh almost like tongues tasting a feast. But one tendril touches Pyoshia's form and, immediately, the other tendrils vanish, reforming around the former dryad's body. The mist roils, encasing the wraith's body entirely so that only her vague outline can be discerned. Suddenly, as if some plug is pulled, the mist seems to drain away, not back into the air of the mausoleum, but rather down, seeping into the lifeless body below through the wounds in her hands and feet, through her open mouth and her nose. Once the mist is fully gone, stillness falls over the scene. For several moments, the corpse lies motionless. But then, eyelids snap open, the orbs beneath gleaming golden in the darkness. The pale lips move, almost silently at first, but then louder and louder, the voice rasping and deep, chanting words of magic. The body lifts up, the spikes sliding through the flesh, but illiciting no reaction. Once free of the bonds, the dryad's body rights itself, looking down at the figures below. "Kasyr," the rasping voice calls out, speaking to the only person it recognizes, hazy as that memory is. "It has been long since last we met." The lich's new body cocks its head to one side. "Or has it?"


Satoshi 's laughter trails off once her fun is over, allowing her to step aside and simply observe the lich's awakening with a delighted sort of curiosity. Although, that maliciously amused grin could very well be the result of having an icy skeleton standing beside her and occasionally clacking its frozen teeth together as its transulcent form begins to darken, taking on the pitch hue of wraithen ice being fed to it from the kit's brief lapse. Either or, Satoshi currently has nothing in particular to say, simply observe.


Dami quickly snapped at Kasyr, "Excuse me?" His snaky little comment earning a mild flair of tempter from Dami. It hardly earned an impression, like she'd care either way. Impatiently, the half-elf paced on-the-spot circles, almost ready to call the operation off; it wasn't hard to see that this was stress acting out. It wasn't until the two necromancers stood baring the 'floating' essence of the wraithen dryad, that Dami would hold still, and stare up- transfixed in unsettling awe. Like a meal, caught by the alluring glow of an angler fishes light. There was a moment when it seemed time stood still, the pitiful glow of the wraithen essence looming above, the hesitance of both spirit and necromancer unsure of the outcome. Like that, it was plunged down at the woman, her body assimilating the ethereal-like figure with an almost greedy disposition.


Kasyr affords Satoshi a brief glance, her newfound companion also earning the Revenants momentary scrutiny, before his attention drifts back towards Isen, "Years, but not so many that the world is beyond recognition, though much has changed" The Kensai pauses for a moment to glance over towards Dami, before he casually adds, "Things have, admittedly enough, been quite busy, in your absence." Freed of their tasks, the necromancers that had been handling the wraith essence begin to back away from the area, falling prey to the foreboding that had been induced by their spiritual charge. They were far less willing to linger and witness the results of their workings- unlike the three necromancers who fell into silent reverence at the newly reborn lich.


Isen slowly sinks back toward the ground, stopping while still a short distance up, so as to be at eye level with the others. Abesently, the lich reaches out to one of the awed necromancers, extending one finger to touch the man on the forehead. He drops without a sound. A faint smile twitches at the dryad's lips, as it says quietly, "Do you remember Diiroehn, and his Touch of Death? I do." Looking back to the other, it continues, "When I left, I instructed my servants to waken me. You do not serve me, I think. Why is it that you came?" The golden eyes look down, observing their host body. "And what is this thing that you gave to me?"


Kasyr lets out a contemplative 'hmm' when Isens touch coaxes the necromancer into the hereafter, before he shakes his head and replies, "A dryad that had served as the host to a profound darkness. It was the most suitable thing I could found so as to..rouse you. As for why, well. We -did- come to an agreement, monsieur. I do my utmost to honour them."


Dami would have loved to have gotten acquainted with the risen lich, but she was a little held down at the moment. Almost literally. The first three seconds looked promising- until she fell to her knees. Breathless, Dami was barely able to support herself on hands and knees while both soul and essence-- as well as a third presence --fought to synergize. Blackened veins crept up and down her face, eyes rolled to the back of her head, and a cold sweat soaked her skin. The ties between druid and terramancer, and their natural affinity to the earth around, left Dami out of sync with her beloved earth; tremors shook and rattled the mausoleum. Albeit mild, noticeable, none the less.


Satoshi twitches in vague sympathy for Dami's plight, unwillingly recalling her own tortuous encounter with Bozrah's essence attempting to devour her soul. Unfortunately, anything else the kit might normally have felt for the situation at hand, or the lich's presence, are rather diluted at present with the brunt of her focus turned inward, lingering on overly pleasant memories of the elf's torture. She won't have anxious recollections intruding upon that. Not now.


Isen twitches its fingers at the lifeless body causing it to jerk and spasm. In that unnatural, rasping voice, the lich speaks out its magic spell, raising the man's body back to a cursed semblance of life. Now undead, the necromancer shuffles to stand behind Isen, head bowed. "You have my thanks then, for that," the lich says to Kasyr. "Soon, you must fill me in on what has gone on since I have been away. But for now, I have a few things I must do." The floating creature looks around at Satoshi, Dami, the retreating necromancers, and the two now-frightened ones, terrified at the death of their comrade. "I will grant each of you one favor," it says, generously. "As a token of my thanks for this act." The dryad twitches out a ghastly grin. "Within reason, of course. I am Isen, who once served Diiroehn, and is now and for all time the Lord of Death." With that, Isen floats away, his new servant following like a whipped dog.


Kasyr falls into a lax bow, the majority of his attention resting upon Isen- though a few furtive glances are stolen in Damis direction, if only because of the tremors, "At our earliest leisure, I shall endeavour to inform you as to what has transpired since you last roamed." With that said, the Kensai draws himself back up to a full stand, hands settling neatly behind his back. Again, a glance is spared towards Dami, though this time the Revenants normally cattish expression is undermined by the slightest hints of worry which crease his features. Unsure whether he should back away or advance, the Kensai merely holds his ground and continues to observe the internal conflict brewing within the Terramancer.


Dami fought to stand, every ounce of physical strength she could muster poured into each jagged movement she made. A fist pushed her right shoulder up- a knee lifted her back. She'd not make it far, with each excruciating inch she gained, the gravity around seemed to increase tenfold. With one last determined effort, she'd press to both hands, only to be smashed completely into the stone once more. It was when the woman was out cold, that the two (or perhaps three) entities within found a diplomatic truce. A neutral zone, if you could. The surrounding earth was left alone, the tremors ceased, and the lethal 'ball' of gravity vanished. It was up to the two to decide if she was carried out, or slept the night on the broken mausoleum ground.


Satoshi , with or without Kasyr's permission, silently directs her blackened new companion to take hold of Dami beneath her arms and drag her from the mausoleum. The kit isn't far behind, only lingering for as long as it takes to collect the skeleton's former fleshy attire, give Kasyr an unreadable look, and stroll after the weighty pair.


Kasyr can't help but look minutely guilty when the feline turns her scrutiny towards him- though he's quick enough to follow on her heels. All in all, their business was done here- the ruins they left in their wake now someone elses' problem. Specifically, that of the Institute of the Black Library.


Satoshi shuffles, since Dami is incapacitated.