RP:The Doctor, The Witch, and The Human

From HollowWiki

This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.


Main Graveyard Area, Vailkrin

Tenebrae was taking a rest from the evacuation of the Temple, arranging alternate quarters for the priests and sundry persons, and all that sort of busy-work. She'd been lucky enough to snag a meal somewhere it between it all, but her wounds were clearly still in the processes of healing to judge by the way her skin writhed slightly over new skin, where that was visible. She was sitting on a low granite monument, picking flecks of blood out of her nails, glad for a moment's peace in the relative chaos that seemed to follow her everywhere of late.


Damphe had come to the graveyard for the same reason he always came to this place. While the doctor had a preference for places where fresher flesh could be found, there was the occasion when the newly-buried dead would suffice for his necromantic necessities. Of course, Damphe would not be doing the digging himself nor could he be hassled to carry his finds home of his own strength. For that, Damphe had brought a small retinue of three failed experiments; wretched amalgamations of flesh hastily stitched together so that they would be capable of bearing burden.


Anton wanders into the graveyard, the verse of a spell pressing through his lips like a student on his way to a chemistry test trying to remember formulas. Eyes scan the various tombs, that which could be read looking for any indicator that a corpse still lay below. Even one that had been returned after use. As he practices the incantation the words start to switch up, or be replaced by others until “Aratic Matrosiees?...” he pauses trying to remember the next word needed. “I should have paid attention in the dragons tongue classes,” he reprehends himself.


Tenebrae’s voice would reach Anton first. “Matriciae. Please don’t speak it aloud until you have the rest clear in your head, or…” She spoke the entire phrase, and there was an ominous rumbling of the earth below Anton’s feet. The necromancer bore a slight smile, as she turned his way. “We had a test planned, did we not? Let’s see how you fare under pressure.” The first claw broke through the grim dirt between two more recent graves, then – a thing of twisted bone and near-calcified gristle. Then another, a hillock of filth rising as whatever-it-was broke free from its elderly and unmarked burial-place, far below. The thin, rusted remnants of armour still clung to it here and there, its sockets were empty. What race it was originally was hard to guess, but there was probably some draconian in those moldering bones somewhere. A scant word form Tenebrae, and the thing clacked and rattled and lumbered toward Anton, very likely not seeking a cuddle. Damphe and his retinue caught her eye next, and she beckoned them over, offering a subtle look of approval to the Doctor’s ‘assistants’.


Anton takes notice at the instruction. A nod of thanks is given before the rumbling occurs. Quickly taking note of the location of the grumbling, the masked mage extends his hand and speaks a power word with in an instant a staff forms in the waiting grip of the necromancers hand. “Again, you seek a promise,” the staff begins to spin in a way a monk would spin a quarter staff the final actions point the staff at the risen creature. A light green bubble begins to take form inching out until it reaches the size of a bowling ball. After reaching full form the acidic orb pushes through the graveyard towards its target when the distance between the two is cut into half the ball separates like going through an unseen strainer and takes the form of eight smaller bubbles each with its own hunger to eat flesh and armor.


Tenebrae wasn’t minding Damphe and his retinue, presently, so whether the Doctor had seen her beckon or not, her gaze was fixed on Anton and his orbish shenanigans. As the green spheres thronged up on the revenant draconian and old bone sizzled and caved in on itself, she – facepalmed. “I swear to all the gods, that decrepit bonebag Lorkain does this to me on –purpose-!” she muttered through her teeth, and through her fingers peeked Anton’s way, one of the digits crooking to summon the acolyte to her.


Anton lowers the stave down to the ground placing the butt of the weapon next his feet. He then turns and faces “Armor would have prevented from being used successfully, and the warming needed in a raising spell would have made any frost spell, well any in my weaponry, void. So, if you can't burn it, and cant freeze it, tear down its structure.” a bit of confidence in his tone though not one of being cocky after all he was talking to a master necromancer, in a graveyard. Though perhaps a bit of ego slips through when he stands tall grip tight upon the staff “You wanted a promise, I offer you a guarantee. I am a quick study and will work to earn my keep. As for what I will bring to the guild, I will bring my strength where it is needed, and when it is not I will improve upon it until it is. In return I ask only for the tools and guidance in order to sharpen my weapons so that I can be of better use, and eventually pass on the trade to those like myself when the future calls for it.”


Tenebrae smiled politely through all of that, though the expression didn’t quite make it to her eyes. “Quite. But what I was after was a demonstration of basic control over a skeletal. You would have learned –something- of this from Lorkain..” at mention of that evil old Lich’s name, she scowled. He was quite famous for expressing his malevolent misanthropy by slipping errors into his lessons just to see the students blow themselves up. Or sending her students with poor comprehension skills. However, this general disgruntledness softened somewhat as she gestured to his stave. “That wasn’t bad, though. Entropic dissolution isn’t an easy thing to work with. That is, I’m assuming, what is powering your balls?” If there was any entendre to be made, it wasn’t happening in Tenebrae’s head. She did not look at all in the mood for a joke. “Now! I wish to observe that you have a grip on the basics. Skeletals.” She makes the barest whisper of a gesture, and there’s more things clawing their way free of the ground. “Yours against mine, for a battle of will and bone. I suggest you raise at least one, and gain control of it. Pretty hasty, like.” The last phrase was curt, her look to him somewhat narrow.


Anton raises his stave and quickly slams it back down into the soiled grave dirt below. “ Matriciae...” the final string of the words expel and push into the stave which then pushes into the ground below. From below an unmarked grave a low growl escapes then like a scene from a bad horror movie a clawed hand stretches up through the dirt before undigging itself. A skeletal resembling that of a ogre, or perhaps an orc that was on the loosing side of a tournament held in the arena climbs out. In its hand a chipped battle axe rests. “Detaundra” the command is spoken aloud sending the creature to begin moving in the direction of the first creature to rise under Thanatos Domina's control “Detaundra” Anton speaks again, following the command axe is raised and brought down in a haste to lessen the numbers game on itself.


Tene smirked approval of his choice, as well as Anton’s ability to sense corpses of particular type underground. Her own bone-warriors were not as dense of frame, but a deal more swift for there was still gristle in them, offering the joints a modicum of flexibility. A minute flip of hand causes the two remaining to round on the larger skeletal, gracile attacks with lighter but sharper weapons made – one smashes its rust-spotted sword into the visible vertebrae of Anton’s revenant, seeking to shatter its spine. While the third of Tene’s bone-puppets explodes into splinters under the blow of the axe, the second takes its place, hacking at the bony arm holding the axe.


Damphe had found himself distracted from his original task in favor of observing the two go about this thing that they would call practice. He had a few other choice words for it, tomfoolery being the tamest of them, considering this effort to be something of a folly when time could be better spent making discoveries. Yet, he was wasteful of that time too as he stood there and watched from behind his mask. The only condolence came from the bottle at Damphe's hip and the head within it, always watching and dedicating the fullest extent of its brain towards the singular task of taking notes. Being without a body, it lacked functions that constantly required mental monitoring and thus it had more mind-power to focus upon observation.


Anton redirects the creatures attacks yells the next command “Sulmog Kurrauz!” twisting as best a jointless and muscleless creature can, the orc/ogre swings its axe in attempt to strike at the one behind him. In a combination of the two attacks it would seem though a twisting orc with no joints or muscles doesn't turn as well as it did back when it had such amenities. The second of Tenebrae's puppets strike clear severing the arm from the shoulder. The axe clanks as it falls to the ground. At the same time the rust-spotted sword meets its target shattering the unprotected spine sending the top half to continue twisting until it twists fully off itself and falls to the ground, while the bottoms just falls into a semi sitting position. In a last ditch effort Anton uses two fingers force pushing the severed arm still holding the axe to send the blade of the weapon into the sword bearing one in an attempt to make the Lady Darkness 's standing skeletals 1 rather then 2.


Tenebrae slid a green glance Damphe’s way. She was not beckoning him again. Perhaps the flicker of a frown she offered the man might serve to remind him he was wanted by the Thanatos Domina. This brief distraction served her bone-warriors no ill at all, for she’d already made the gestures necessary to keep the reanimating magics looping back to herself – tired and healing as she was, this was still little drain on her vast magical reserves so she didn’t bother creating an exterior source. As her second warrior suffered sudden and remarkable fracturing thanks to that axed-armed.. arm, the third went stalking after Anton himself. “Try not swing your orbs at this one,” she instructed, very drily, “Your task is to seize control of it.” Her own control was waning, pulled back to allow for a negligible summoning which posited a rather dull-witted and very unhappy spirit into the skeleton, moving it toward a state of autonomy under the control of that festering, earth-bound shade. Once the bones were thus possessed, she ordered the spirit to attack…


Damphe rose himself up from the headstone that had been serving the doctor as a seat, observant and quick-witted enough to recognize that Tenebrae had some desire to speak with him. He would take a moment to incline a glance towards the two abominations that had once been men, nodding to them as the silent command was issue. He would entrust them with the task of finding a fresh enough body that Damphe could find some purpose for and hope that they were possessed of enough intellect in their current state to actually provide a worthwhile specimen. As he made his approach towards Tenebrae, the doctor would give a careless look towards the corpse that she had given rise to and then a more inquisitive stare towards Anton - not that such could be easily discerned from behind the gaunt, bird-like mask that he wore. "Apply more will, dominion is key... and do try to tether more binding magic around the joints. They'll hold together better." He would say quietly in a grim and raspy voice.


Anton extends his hand his palm facing forward he didn't take notice of the bird masked doctor, it was under his own mask that a look of concentration fills out his features. Straining his muscles he holds up his arm and with a narrow glare a command word is given. Finding the attempt to be a failure he lowers his arms giving it a few shakes. He then attempts it again, repeating the gesture and adding more focus into the command. It is then the connection is felt, talking note of the conversation between the master necromancer and the bird mask. Using this distraction he commands the creature to walk towards Tenebrae and upon reaching her, it turns its blade around offering her the handle and dropping its head.


Tenebrae kept quiet for a time, allowing the Doctor to step into the role of instructor. A brief and very dangerous look was levelled at Anton as his newly-commandeered boneman clattered toward her, one which decreased its deadly aspect of promise when the thing showed nought but obeyance. “Well done!” she beamed toward Anton, her hands clapping together once, the woman abruptly charming rather than .. not so. “You certainly have potential,” she turned to Damphe. “That’s Anton. He’s clumsy and doesn’t listen, but I am sure you’ll beat that out of him, in time. He does, though, have a fairly solid grasp on the art of entropic dissolution which is most interesting, considering he’s so lacking in the fundamental areas.” Which, to be fair to Anton, probably had more to do with Lorkain’s foul sense of humour than anything else, but she doesn’t mention this presently. “Now, Doctor, what brings you to the graveyard this day? I dare say you’ve seen all the clutter and bother from the Temple? I would suggest avoiding this general area for a week or so..” she doesn’t say why, “.. hopefully not too inconvenient.”


Damphe offered Tenebrae something of a curious stare as she spoke though all that could be seen was the constant indifference of his masked face. His attention flickered fleeting upon the corpse now being seemingly full wielded by this Anton and then again, the beaked mask came to be pointed towards Anton. Disobedience was a double-edged sword within the world of Necromancy, it made one wilful enough to command the dead but it could also imply a certain lacking in the department of will that could cause one's creations to be unwieldy at best. This was a musing that Damphe would keep to himself for now though a small level of interest was peaked at the mention of slightly advanced techniques. "Turmoil at the temple?" Damphe would finally reply as his attention returned to Tenebrae. "I have heard nothing of this. I've been moderately busy preparing new accommodations for myself and my research. I had merely come to collect fresh materials." He gestured with a tilt of the head towards his two pallid and slack-jawed fleshy corpses. "My attempts to modify Vasalgi's Brine with a few concepts of my own creation proved less fruitful than I had hoped but one can always find a use for dumb muscle."


Anton bows “I hope I have shown what it is you were looking for, if not then I shall try again, until I do. But how ever I must be off, I'll leave the two of you alone as I'm sure it's much prudent” and with that the necromancer begins to take his leave kicking at the skull like a ball, sending it rolling to the nearest grave marker.


Tenebrae seems a bit more kindly toward Anton, as he makes his departure, quite pleased with what he'd shown her. Though this was to be even more evident once he'd turned his back to them. She said to Damphe, “I truly think that one will really polish up well, in time. He has the right blend of humility and arrogance.. “ She glanced to the head-in-a-jar, then. “As for Visalgi.. I am sure I could show you a few of my own modifications.” The woman grinned, “But then I’d have to kill you.” Whether joking or not, she chuckled. “And good luck finding fresh materials around here. A better option is to make a deal with the Cenrilli hangman, he often has nice fresh ones..” there was a frown then, as she thought of Valentin, absent these long months, “And I suspect he’ll have a surfeit of them lately. Tell him I sent you, and slip him a few coins, I’m sure he’ll be accommodating. As for the Temple..” all levity fled from Tenebrae as she spoke now, “A vast and ancient remnant from the days when gods walked Lithrydel is due to pay a visit, soon. It is powerful and has its own rude intelligence. I expect there to be little bit of wreckage..”


Damphe knew all too well that this graveyard frequently failed to yield anything of use. It was for that reason that he had been forced to abduct travellers on more ocassions that he truly cared to admit. Their screams and objections were not the most pleasant of things to hear and oft made it difficult to focus on the research at hand. "I should like to compare notes some day, if only to see where similarities may lie." While Tenebrae's research was more for the purpose of abhorrence, Damphe did find himself fascinated by the results that her efforts seemed to have yielded her. "I have come into possession of a moderate quantity of a species that I am personally quite eager to... tinker with." He paused at the mention of gods and ancient creatures, his head inclining off to the side. "And this creature, are we to let it be or impede its destruction?"


Ayala looked happy as could be, a bright sharp-toothed smile on her face. Why the joy? Why, her new corset, of course! Things were going well. Very well. She'd forgotten to completely clean the bones of blood before she'd crafted them into this piece of clothing, and so, her previously at least semi-innocent appearance had taken a definite hit. This wasn't the only change, of course; if anyone were to recognize her, they might notice that the undead crow following her about was following her commands easily, flying about over her head, and in general, acting just like any crow ought to... with the addition of molting feathers and a missing eye, of course. Flying behind that bird was another, which didn't seem quite so dead. The other bird, a kestrel, let out a shrill tone, and the young woman paused, the smile disappearing from her face. Idle fingertips tapped at the string of vials wrapped around her waist. Tink, tink tink.... She was listening. Cenrili hangman? Who could that be? She didn't know. But there were people here. Her brow furrowed. Would they get in the way of her... ingredient searching? For now, she hung about, hiding from the other two behind a crypt. The clue of her arrival might be given by the circling of her familiars above her hiding spot.


Tene offered Damphe a light shrug, “If all goes to plan, we’ll be turning it to the benefit of the Guild.” And if it doesn’t? Asked that nagging little voice we all have in the backs of our heads, which just –has to- second guess bravado at every turn. Otherwise known as ‘caution’ or ‘the voice of reason’, among peoples who enjoyed less dangerous occupations. Tene mentally squeezed it head off, and went on, “As for my own work…” how to put it, she wondered, “I am not inclined to share much of my latest work.” There, blunt was sometimes best. There was s subtle tone of boast in her next words, “However, I do have a personal library of tomes which helped me enormously in the days before I gathered the Aranochian Fragments. Many of those, and perhaps my lesser vats, I would not mind…” she stopped, blinked. Frowned, for she’d spied that manky undead crow and for a moment was flashbacking to days when her familiar had a more a fragile form than his present one, tripping her paranoia and causing her to glance about swiftly in search of a certain Time-Fiddler… Her mouth opened, extended to a maw, and Damphe would get a glimpse of the Empusai’s rows of needle-teeth erupting, the flicker of her forked tongue. Her nostrils distended, catching the scents nearby, and the woman calmed again, coughing softly as she blithely spoke on as if nothing had happened, “Anton clearly needs help where reanimation is concerned. If you manage his tutelage for the next few weeks to my satisfaction, it will go a long way to your rise in Guild ranks.” The necromancer was on her feet now, her figure indistinct as it blurred into a deep pall of shadow, and the bright moons above seemed vastly more dim for the blacknesses which thronged about the cemetery now. Keeping her more monstrous aspect in check, for the moment, Tenebrae was merely stalking the interloper, who was clearly hiding from them, and therefore worthy of suspicion. And/or extreme violence.. really, she’s not far off finding Ayala now, so time would soon tell either way.


Damphe found Tenebrae's reaction to this unseen interloper mildly amusing, his humor hidden behind the bird-like mask. He had a sneaking suspicion that he and this bird as well as the bird's keeper had met before, mildly impressed that the girl had figured out how to command the creature, presumably off the advice that he himself had given her. "Intruiging." Damphe would say in response to Tenebrae's musing on the subject of the ancient threat and her own experimentations. All were welcome to their secrets and Damphe certainly had no intentions of sharing all his hidden ingredients or the alchemical equations that would theoretically make them function tenfold as well as otherwise expected. All the while, the good doctor maintained that stoic air of passiveness at the view of Tenebrae's decidedly less than human pedigree. He would not, could not flinch.


The healthier-looking of the two birds would give another screech. Out hopped Aya, now that she was aware that she was being hunted. She put a hand up, shielding her eyes as she looked up at the shadowy figure. "..." She didn't have much to say about that, except that she liked what it looked like. Her grin grew wider still. The bird that had tipped her off to having been caught flew down, landing on the ground nearby. It made another noise, less harsh than the previous two. The young lady looked down at the bird, and put her hands on her hips, staring at it. "Screech, screech. Screeching is all you do. Why can't you be quiet like Humphrey? It's your fault I like the dead better than the living. They at least know how to hold their tongues. Probably because that's one of the first things to go... but that's alright, yes. Less talkative... Less screeching." As she spoke, she fished around in a pouch on her right side. What she procured, she dropped on the ground before the bird, a grisly treat for her pet. Her pet seemed perfectly content with pecking the meat off of the finger that she'd just dropped. The druid now turned her attention back up again, at the shadowy figure. "...." Still not much to say about that. She darted her eyes... That smelled familiar; the other one here. He smelled familiar. Hmm.


It was well for Ayala that, in the Necromancer’s experience, persons who prattle are rarely the type to cause immediate damage. Of course she’d noted the hawk as well as the undead crow, but as such birds do flap their way through the portal in search of opportunistic vermin to snack on, hadn’t paid it any mind before it was clear to her that the little raptor was a pet of this… woman. Stark and cold, Tenebrae’s yellow-green eyes peered at Ayala now. The woman herself was clad in a daring dress of scarlet, steel-tipped boots and nothing else; she was pale as the moons and her hair funereal black hanging to her waist like a swathe of dark silk. “You there,” her voice was melodious, but carried a promise of peril, “Why are you skulking?” If Ayala was indeed know to Damphe, best he speak up now, or somebody might be forever holding their peace.


(to be continued....!)