RP:Raising More Questions Than Bodies
Synopsis: Lefty, finding himself impatient to contain the wayward jewelry, and wanting fresh eyes on the problem, enlists fellow necromancer, Joan to examine the bodies. Unfortunately, no questions were answered, and they ended by putting the bodies to rest.
Part of the Wholehearted Wanderers Arc
Part of the Once Upon a Midnight Dreary Arc
Culvert in the Ancient Forest
Skylarks swoop through the leaves of this old forest, as well as many other birds and bugs. The mysticism that enshrouds this place is great, beyond space and time, a type of power that grips and tells a story. It's as if the trees speak, but they make no sound. Their trunks are notched and grow gnarled from age, twisting round and round. Archaic trees stretch west and east, as well as the lord of this forest to the north. To the south lies evidence to the completion of one chapter in this world's storied past, but the gravesite is no longer accessible. Adjacent to the subtle marker in the south is a building which is even less visible. One would have to be looking for it to even know it was there.
Lefty is standing, via the avian Were Pigeon, next to an exposed ditch filled with the deceased, both new and not so new. The corpses in question were a bit of every demographic: elf, orc, dwarf, drow, pixie, and even a lone satyr. The bodies were in pristine condition save for the unifying injury, and probable cause of death. Blood seeped out of every ear, and there wasn't a single intact eyeball in the mass of poor victims. Were Pigeon bit his lip nervously, quite against his better nature, but he'd be quite glad when this unpleasant mistake was rectified. Damn the Lady. The faint smell of burnt pork and a waft of smoke indicates Lefty's thoughts on the subject. The Lady may be insane, and very dead, but there's a certain level of respect that must be tendered to our forebears.
Joan made this little field trip out here to the ancient forest proper, the undead woman slightly leery as she enters into the area. She put her faith and trust in the eyeball creature and its servant as she followed in close to the exposed ditch. The smell alone told the vampiric healer much of what she needed to know of the conditions and context of what would be found in that ditch. With a shake of her head a wrinkle of her nose the vampiric healer came in close to Lefty’s position via the large avian slave. “Thank goodness it is deep and dark here in the the forest, it keeps the smell down and the rate of decomposition.” She would now move to peer down now into the dead body filled ditch and notice how well the many bodies were in condition wise. “Wow…impressive.” She nods her head before looking towards the avian slave and the eyeball creature she was here to do this task with. One met the most strange and wonderful beings/creatures while in the necromancer guild she thought personally to herself.
Lefty said, "I’m not sure if you are referring to the body dumping or the mode of execution, but in both cases the perpetrator is an idiot.” There’s a short pause. “I doubt the preservation of the bodies was intentional, but it certainly is opportune. Perhaps there remains a remnant of their last moment that can be extracted.” Were Pigeon tilts his head to the side for a moment to converse with his Lord. The breeze cools his wrinkled brow, and the falling leaves go mostly unnoticed. “We strongly suspect that our culprit is not acting of his own volition, but under the compulsion of a necromancer’s toy. My Lord Lefty believes himself to be the most capable in containing and controlling the item, but as you can see. . .” The avian gestures to the pile of bodies in the pit. “Not everyone is up to the task of wrangling the experimental energies.”
Joan blinks, her voided orbs taking in the scene with a different opinion now, her fingers come upwards to touch at her chin, fingers lightly drum against the icy cold chin as Joan thinks. “Okay. I will need to be in contact with the corpses.” That said she slides down the embankment to join the corpses. Once she reaches the nearest ones she would lightly touch at each one’s exposed flesh to try to get a reading.
The sound of wind through the trees almost seems to whisper ancient secrets, a haunting melody of dark dances and eldritch goggling. Were Pigeon shakes it off and extracts Lefty to place him into a corpse’s empty eye socket. The left one, of course. The ocular undead sends tendrils of energy throughout the body, reigniting old nerves and curling around old memories. Without prompting, completely outside Lefty’s control, the body begins chanting in an ancient language. The rhythmic sibilants provide an addicting counterpoint to the echoing winds. Before Lefty regains control, other bodies begin tracing lines in the dirt. It quickly ceases, but several letters have been carved in the soil, repeatedly in every direction. Were Pigeon retrieves his master and returns him to his perch. “Hmm. Interesting. The minds were broken and reassembling them might be a lost cause.” He peers at the lines, and copies them onto a notepad. “Complete nonsense on my end. What about you, ma’am?”
Joan had taken a deep inhale of breath then slowly exhaled out that breath as she magically searched the body she was touching, her grave cold magical energies swirling about in and outside the body doing it’s best to feed her what information it had left. She could feel it died in fear and distress but little more outside of that. Pursing her lips together she would offer Lefty a distraction head shake of ‘no’, tho she read those glowing marks his magic had undercover. “Nothing much, just about the same.” She called out before reaching towards one of those faint glowing marks to hold her hand over to see if she could ‘read’ these as she crouched.
As Joan touches one mark, several others react. Swiftly taking notes, Were Pigeon begins assigning groups based on reactions. “Possibly better, but nothing conclusive.” The scratch of charcoal on paper is interspersed with unhappy mumbling. “No, not that. Perhaps. . .nevermind. That won’t work either.” Soon, there are dozens of sheets of paper grouped into five piles. “This seems to be the general consensus. There are five things the victims want us to know.” Were Pigeon nods as if he heard something, and removes the eye from his head with a soft squelch. He removes the now-familiar box from his pocket and undoes the chains, dumping a pair of hands next to Lefty. They attach and examine Were Pigeon’s notes in one pile. Lefty goes over to one body, a steady stream of red and purple light focuses on one skull, removing the cranial plate. After a moment of consideration, the left hand emits a laser to sever the selected point. Lefty repeats this process on several corpses. He examines the ends and begins sautering the ends together, rebinding the nerves and refurbishing the pieces into a workable brain. Once he has one, he places it into a quickly-emptied skull, and ‘activates’ it by placing a finger to its temple. The index finger on the other hand traces a larger, complete symbol. Were Pigeon looks from the symbol to his notes. “Of course! These marks are fragments. No wonder we can’t find meaning.”
Joan frowns as she stands up with care dusting her hands together and then running them over the back and front of her pants legs. “Okay, but what does this got to do with revivification?” She asked, having taken the time to go over each of the five different piles of notes Lefty had scribbled out and placed down on the grown. She’d then spare a look down into the ditch filled with the dead once more, she could tell that each had suffered, maybe by some blow to the cranium, how else would blood drip out from each empty eye socket and ear drum.
Lefty said, "I was hoping your skill in reviving would shed some light on this tragedy.” Were Pigeon shifts a few papers around and mumbles a few unintelligible syllables. “Also, if you want further relevance. The ‘item’ we are attempting to reclaim is the product of a successful revivification of an uncontrolled experiment. So, I suppose this is a practical lesson on what happens when steps are neglected in the revival process. Though, to be quite frank, the nature of this resuscitated being does tend to exacerbate the problem.”
Joan had listen in a quite manner her gaze fixed on those bodies in the ditch while inwards she had begun to gather up her chilly grave cold necromancy energies. Joan now moved to squat near the edge of the ditch and reach down and out to press both open palms into the ground sending that power into the ground. That ground would drink up the energy and send it back out as it was seeking the dead flesh of all the different corpses down in the ditch not the dead of plants and all. The corpses would take in the necro energy, twitching here and there before a bunch begin to untangle themselves from each other and move to sit upwards in a seated position while each eyeball socket missing head would turn to ‘stare’ at Joan, Lefty and the avian slave. In all Joan had managed to get at least five bodies to ‘answer’ her call. Each one ‘stare’ as Joan asked each body a few questions. Each would answer as best they could for Joan and Lefty, giving as much details they could remember. Which sadly once again wasn’t much, with a disappointing sigh she’d cast a questioning glance back over her vested shoulder to the eyeball creature.
Were Pigeon gives the necromancer a wry grin. “I know. Our prey seems to be a predator. Their minds were destroyed. Perhaps by their captor, perhaps by the revived. Regardless, the madness is too deep.” Lefty crawls into another corpse, after finding it to be less psychologically broken than the others. . .maybe? “None escape. . . I heard you laugh. None escape, nonescape, nonescapenonescapenonescape. . .” Sparks begin flying from the eye socket and Lefty launches into the air as the corpse begins screaming. Were Pigeon doesn’t even react, continuing to sort through his notes. The desperate cries echo through the clearing, and slowly fade. The scene repeats, with various repeated chants about cold winds and the undying despair of captivity.
Joan bit and chew lightly at her bottom lip as she thought. “Alright, so whatever they used was powerful enough to destroy the eyeballs and frazzle the brain, burning out the memories of what happen at the time of the attack.” She said aloud, her left hand reaching outwards to try to mentally, physically and magically sooth the corpses. As those voices call out and then die down the undead woman asked, “Could it possibly be some sorta device that allows the holder to command some sorta wind power magic? You know they hold it out and whatever it’s directed towards is attacked by some enchanted winds that blow out something to destroy the eyes and chain the body in place?”
Lefty said, "Oh, we know -what- caused the damage. We are looking for the who and the where.” Were Pigeon begins tearing papers and making upset faces, seeming to forget that he was talking for a moment. “There’s a pendant made from a pseudonecromantic experiment. It emits sonic frequencies that, well, do that.” He gestures vaguely at the valley of corpses. “As far as we can tell, it is not, nor has it ever been, controlled. However, the uniformity of the injuries as well as the singular dumping site indicates one wielder. Only the Lady knows how he hasn’t perished."
Joan nods once more, gathering the info that Lefty’s avian slave reported to them aloud. “Wow, okay very neat but sounds dangerous. These animated bodies would like to be laid to peace once we conclude our investigation, is that okay with you?” She ask while gathering the tiny bits of information they could give of it being a man like shape each saw before being murdered, each risen body is given the reassuring message that Joan would do the best for each when it came to laying them to peace.
Lefty said, "Yes, I have a few more notes before we can let them meet their eternal rest." Lefty returns to the group and taps his retainer. "Thank you for the assistance. We can bury them. You must be a busy woman. Let us handle the details of the interment and banishment of the unsettled energies"
Joan dusted off her hands as she slowly rose back up onto her feet, her light violet gaze looked from Lefty then down. Towards the ditch that held all the bodies, very interesting in what the eyeball creature would do as this would be one of the few times she got to observe a more learned necromancer perform. “Sounds interesting, and no not really, I have time since I mostly just focus on things for the guild and the healers guild also.”
Lefty crawls over to each corpse and a faint red glow emanates for a moment before fading as the bodies deflate, as if sighing at the release of pain. Were Pigeon is envious, but commits to his duty of documenting every last nonsensical utterance the deceased desperately need aired. “We should have our other compatriot look at all this as well,” the avian suggests. “Is it right to bury the dead while their killer is still at large, and we no closer to stopping him?” Lefty makes a gesture at him, possibly quite rude, but quasi-indeterminate. Were Pigeon nods, and redoubles his efforts at note-taking. Lefty continues his own efforts. He traces the path of the necromantic energies, diffusing them into the aether, draining the bodies of all memory of life. For good measure, he also seals the necromantic pathways to prevent them from being raised again. Their final rest would truly be final this time.
Joan takes a few steps closer to the avian slave of Lefty’s and makes request for her own copy of all the notes he had been taking for her own personal files. She did keep up watching as the mobile hands of glory move up and over each of the raised zombies then do it’s personal bit of magic to settle each, Joan making mental notes before asking aloud, “Can you explain in detail what you are using to close the magical circuit so I can try myself at a later date?” She then speaks to the male avian slave once again, “As trusted Necromancers our work to set the risen dead back to peaceful death doesn’t need to be looked over really. The law might have questions and want to look, but they had their time to come out and do their own personal visual inspection.”
Were Pigeon hems and haws, but eventually speaks up. “Well, there still seems to be a bit of a jurisdictional dispute, so no one has really investigated other than the Bards in conjunction with a few necromancers. Also, the Bards haven’t fully investigated this site, they have it locked down until their investigators can get here. Multiple items of import have gone missing, and these aren’t the only deaths.” The avian calmly lets the vampire copy the notes, for all the good it will do her. Jumbled phrases, odd letters and runes with seemingly no connection. An ‘a’, a few ‘w’, ‘t’, possibly an ‘r’, and of course dozens of ‘e’. Common is littered with the letter ‘e’. If Joan can make heads or tales of the murmurings of the dead, then all power to her. Lefty seals one last dead, and returns to his retainer, placing a finger against Were Pigeon’s ankle. “My lord is thoroughly cleaning the bodies of necromantic influence, essentially calling it away by reversing the polarity of his necromancy. Then, once all the energy is drained, and only then, he is cutting the metaphysical bond to which necromancy connects. Essentially, he’s marking the bodies as ‘never-living’. It’s important to be absolutely certain that all the energy is drained, first. Otherwise, you have a construct that, once raised, will not respond to necromancy, and can never find peace. A nightmare all around.”
Joan offered a rolling shrug of her vested shoulders, she never worked with outside forces when on a mission or quest with their guild. Whatever else was needed from the other guilds wasn’t her business to begin with and she left it that way, Lefty was the senior necromancer here, if he said bury the bodies that is what Joan would continue to do. “Neat, I will remember that for another time.” With a look down towards Lefty, Joan would pour a small amount of her magic into either side of the ditch, loose dirt from all around the forested area began to gather up then move to pour and roll down into the ditch, covering over each body with a low sounding rumble of soil, leaves, twigs etc. As this all filled the ditch Joan would sketch a symbol into the ground letting anyone curious to know who laid the bodies to final rest. “What is next?”
"Next, we need to decipher their words. Somewhere in there is a clue on where the thief, and by extension the unruly undead, is located. I still struggle to figure out how the thief has remained alive all this time. Perhaps he’s deaf?” Were Pigeon shakes his head to dispel intrusive thoughts. “No, no distractions. We must focus on the task at hand. Solve the puzzle, capture the artifact, deal with thieves as necessary."
Joan looks over the now new mass grave burial to make sure they didn’t mess anything before suggesting they move back to Vailkrin to finish off their research. “Off to the Black Library then, only place I know that has copies of all the books in the land.” With that she’d turn to leave but waiting for Lefty and his avian slave, as they should lead the way. Seniority first.
Lefty returns to his perch in Were Pigeon’s eye socket and heads toward the Black Library, allowing the avian’s monologue to continue. For all anyone knew, he might solve the problem by doing so, and certainly wouldn’t prevent any progress. At least, until they arrived at the Black Library. Quiet may be an asset there. For concentration reasons of course.