RP:Raising Latulepi

Synopsis: Tasked with learning to raise the dead by Daath, Larewen finally puts her studying to use after stumbling upon Pyoshia playing with the dead corpse of a drow youth not far outside the entrance to the Underdark.

Twisted Trees (Inside the Forest of Abyssal Darkness)

Latulepi is definitely dead.

Pyoshia sat atop the dire werebears shoulder, her tiny frame seemingly a spec compared to the massive lycanthrope. She paced back and forth atop her sturdy frame, literally not even phasing the creature who walked through the forest with the sinister wraith upon her shoulders. It was gloomy tonight, the trees so thick they blotted out stars, the moons, the suns themselves not shining any light through any of the three and yet, none of it seemed to phase rider or Elindra either. As they snapped through tree branches and foliage, the sinister aura of the corrupted tree baring no affect upon the duo, they stumbled upon a scene that was different than the rest. There it lay next to the tree, an old body seemingly decades past yet still preserved, lying in a light that pierced through the dense tree tops and thickened vines. It was like a calling, a mysterious venture that beckoned the two worth until the large werebear knelt before it, her arms to lift as if she knew what Pyoshia wanted, grasping her off her shoulder and to set her down next to the corpse. The head had rolled off the shoulders, now held within the hand that lay upon the hand which sat on the ground, arm still attached in it’s socket. Eyes were still within the skull, no crows having come pecked either flesh nor skin from any of it.. And… The trees, they hadn’t eaten it yet? This was a strange corpse indeed. It begged the question what had stopped it from joining the rest of the mulch, why had it remained where countless dozens, no hundreds more had vanished and yet, as Pyoshia thought through these questions her mind suddenly came to the conclusion, who cares? With a lift of the head she tossed it to her werebear companion, “Catch Elly!” She spoke with a grin and the were bear grasped the flying ball only to immediately drop it, “Why.. The.. What is!?!” And her body gave a brief chill before her composure returned, “Pyoshia, why must you do things like this to me? Are you not a bit old for such childish tactics?” The little wraithling shook her head, a look of innocence on her face as she lifted the head back up and placed it atop the corpse. “You know, it’s a bit boring like this, it could have wings! Or! OR! ORRRR!” Her eyes grew wider and wider and wider till they seemingly threatened to force their own gravitational pull in theory whilst her grin seemingly bore it’s own similar resemblance in size. She took the head, it now placed on the skeleton backwards, pulled the legs from the sockets and placed them where the arms might go, then the arms where the legs might go, “It’s pretty! Don’t you think? Oh my! I forgot her dress! Elindra, fetch!” The the bears dismay.

Larewen traipsed quietly through the foreboding foliage of the Dark Forest, aware and yet strangely relaxed. Why should she not? She'd taken up residence within its confines, if only because she had no home. Her steps were slow and deliberate, even halting when she heard the creature up ahead of her. The snapping of twigs met her ears, then the voices, one of which was far too familiar for the elf to misplace: Pyoshia. A strange light flickered into those dark depths of her eyes and a grin flirted with the corner of her lips, teasing them upward until there was a faint glint of fang in the moonlight. The dark sorceress hastened toward the copse of flesh-eating trees, and though she paid little mind to the noises in which she created, she was far more quiet than the duo had been. Larewen would come into sight just beyond the were, dark eyes fixing upon Elindra, Pyoshia, and Pyoshia's hapless victim - granted the corpse was hardly such. It had already been dead, and given the smell that greeted Larewen's flaring nostrils, had been so for quite some time. Yet, just as Pyoshia had been puzzled at first, so too was the dark sorceress. Now, as for Pyoshia's handiwork... Larewen snorted. "Pyo," she called out, her voice a haunting echo in the Dark Forest. "What are you doing, little one?" There was a twisted sort of motherly affection in the way the elf regarded the wraith.

Latulepi is still dead, and still a corpse. A corpse with a backwards head and anatomically invalid placed limbs.

Pyoshia was in the middle of arguing with Elindra, demanding the werebear gather the materials she needed when finally Larewen approached, the little wraith to turn and small, “Mother Corrupt!” She leapt up and down with joy, her tiny frame, even when in the air, barely coming up to the vampires breast for height. “You’re here! Do you want to see my new play thing!? She’s going to be a monkey!” The little one’s head arched back in maniacal laughter as the night seemed to enhance it’s strength, lightning crackling above. “Now! Elindra, please, fetch my materials from the tree and I promise I will be kind scratch that spot upon your belly that bothers you so!” The bear glared down at the small wraith, at the humility of being treated like a dog but finally sighed and replied with, “Fine, but, I won’t do it again.” The wraith to nod and ‘agree’. The bear trudged off as the mother corrupt and sovereign were left to speak. “So! I think this will be my best invention ever mother! I am going to decorate it pretty.” Her fingers put the corpse back together properly, aside from the head, which she left on backwards and the hand upon the ground. Her tiny hand then pushed it to late flat upon the ground, palm pressed against the dead one’s back, as she channeled magic into the feminine corpse which had no gender...Cause it was dead..

Latulepi Is probably also covered in blood, and is carrying a ton of bacteria. Bacteria that causes diseases. Like necrosis. Or leprosy. Or hepatitis.

Larewen felt a strange surge of warmth in her breast when Pyoshia greeted her with that familiar name. Her eyes watched the bouncing creature, and her chin lifted in the direction of what Pyoshia had put together. "A monkey?" she echoed, her lips pressing into a thin line. "No, I think not." As Elindra was ordered away in search of a dress, her gaze followed her before ultimately returning to the twisted dryad. She drew closer and knelt down before removing her gloves. Pale fingers extended outward to touch the slowly rotting flesh, gently. "And how do you plan to decorate her, little one?" the elf asked with genuine curiosity. When Pyoshia sat the body down and began to channel magic into it, the dark sorceress would call upon a small bit of her own. The corpse's head would twist then, suddenly and quickly enough to send a small splatter of gore upon the pair. She studied the corpse's face then, also recognizing the faintest hints of bone curvature that would identify it as feminine. With a smirk, the elf also took into account the lack of hair upon its head - it had been scalped before it died. As magic began to fill the air, Larewen would quietly watch, perhaps to see what, exactly, Pyoshia would do. The dark sorceress, on the other hand, became suddenly aware that now would be an opportune moment to experiment with the magics that she'd been studying herself.

Pyoshia ’s magic had begun in small ways, correcting the insides of the creature before them, restoring it’s organs, restoring it’s spine, it’s body slowly restoring back to the way it had been before it’s death yet.. As you looked upon this corpse, it was a life no one who had once lived would want to have bestowed upon them. Held up like a mannequin by the vines that had come forth from the ground, the body could be clearly seen, from head to toe, back and front, as Pyoshia poured her heart and soul within her masterpiece. The arms were pulled together, darkened… Stitches? Magic? Thread? It was unclear, had dug fully within the socket, through the arm, back through the detached portion of the shoulder, agony for any who looked closely at it.. Should the creature be able to feel pain. It’s limbs followed suit, each completely tied together by monstrous blackened thread, magic, stitches, that were entirely made by the corrupted soul of the dryad, any who came near it able to feel her essence within the being. As she left it there, standing without standing, she smiled as the werebear placed the items she had requested upon the ground yet no clothing was amongst it. Before them both were massive crow wings, a tail from a leopard, red fox ears, a vial of blood, and what seemed like bark from the Ya-te-Veo. Pyoshia’s little grin grew wider, the crackling lightning from before returning as she bellowed, “It’s aliveeee!” It wasn't.. But,the excited little dryad couldn't’ resist taking the tail and jabbing it into the bottom of the corpse’s spine.

Latulepi is not alive, but definitely standing.. without actually standing. How on earth...?

Larewen watched with no little interest as the dryad began to twist the dismembered body back together. She watched as the unnatural magic that the twisted creature bore began to restore the corpse to a previous state of death, one that bore darkened flesh, stiff with rigor. The ebon threads that tied its limbs back together, its head upon its thrown, and the tail... Wait. "Pyoshia, no," Larewen commanded, her voice stern as she borrowed from her own pool of mana to snare the leopard's tail and rip it from the stitched horror that was now raised before the two. The distance was closed in that moment, for suddenly the elf was so close to the body that anything sentient would be uncomfortable. The skin was far too dark to have been a surface dweller and as Larewen's eyes roamed over the angular features, the points of the dead girl's ears were noted with a thin curve of the dark sorceress's lips. Her hand extended to cup the dead flesh of her cheek. "She was a drow girl. Interesting, that she found her way above ground only to be torn asunder... or perhaps..." she trailed off, lifting her shoulders upward. "Pyoshia, I am going to try something I've been studying." Without drawing away from the corpse, Larewen's mind wandered. Her attempts at snaring souls thus far had been spent upon animals, not anything more sentient and functioning than that. She could attempt to raise the body with no mind of its own, a magic simple enough for novice necromancers. It would accomplish the task Daath had placed before her, too. Yet she and the necromancer knew all too well that Larewen would wish to go above and beyond the minimum that was required of her. "If I only had a soul..." she murmured to herself as she studied the youthful features of the corpse. Her eyes closed for a moment, her jaw tensing as she suddenly recalled the gruesome circumstances under which her niece had... died. That child, too, had been dismembered. Magically, and at Larewen's own hand, but dismembered nonetheless. As if to further the anguish that Larewen once felt, and no longer was capable of, the girl appeared within the peripheral of her stare. The dark sorceress had grown accustomed to her presence, so used to her that she rarely even noticed the deathly figure that haunted her every waking moment. For once, she was grateful. Her lips curled upward then, and she took a step back from the corpse to turn toward the lingering soul of her niece. "Come to me, little one," she whispered softly, her voice a mother's coo once more. "Let me fix you." The girl, perhaps curious, perhaps glad to have finally garnered her aunt's attention after existing on the outside of the woman's life for so long, did just that. As she drew nearer, within the influence of the magic that the dark sorceress had begun to weave, the child became visible to Pyoshia as well. Colorless, but bearing the features of an elven girl. "If this works, then you'll have yourself a sister," she said quietly, and then her concentration went fully into her magic. Spells of a tongue she was still rather unfamiliar with began to fall from her lips, carefully recited from memory. Around her, an eerie green glow gathered, garrishly lighting the woods around them as it reached outward to connect with the ghostly elf.

Pyoshia sighed and pulled the tail away as she was scolded like a small child, the mention of the other becoming her sister upsetting Pyoshia, she was the one who received the attention not this other! Oh Pyoshia would get her revenge on this upstart who seemed to think she could intrude upon mother corrupts attention after she’d just gotten her some few months back! Larewen was hers and hers alone! And some rotting corpse wouldn't steal her.. But how to ruin this for the other one without Larewen knowing it was Pyoshia? The schemes began to build in her head when suddenly a large thwap struck the back of the plants head, “Don’t you dare.” Whispered into her ear, below audible tones, “I know what you’re thinking plant,” The large werebear continued, “Let the poor elf have her moment and give birth again, you need not interfere.”

Larewen wasn't privy to Pyoshia's thoughts, nor did she pay any mind to the hushed whisper of voices behind her. What she was trying to accomplish was a delicate task for one that had never before attempted such a thing; she was trying to unnaturally give life to a body unable to actually bear it, and meant to bind sentience to it through what was left of her niece's soul. The elven girl was complaint enough and as that eerie glow began to swirl around them, she became smaller. She condensed and rose toward the palm of Larewen's hand as it turned upward. In moments, the ghostly image of a girl had become a glittering, emerald gem. Within it, blackness swirled - a taste of its own demise and the dark sorceress's corruption. The corpse became the sole focus of her attention then and Larewen stepped towards it once more. The green glow began to fade and the soulgem fell into Larewen's expectant palm. Suddenly, her fingers closed over it, crushing it into dust. When her fingers opened, a breath of air left her lips. The breath, unnecessary as it was to her own existence, picked up the souldust as unholy words carried it toward the corpse. Upon contact, the verdant dust would be absorbed into the monstrosity's flesh. Moments would pass. Enough, in fact, that one might wonder if the spell had failed. Then, finally, it would take hold, wrenching the horrid creation into the world of the living, in a state that most certainly was not. "She will be called Latulepi," the dark sorceress said quietly.