Post by Jerevan Languorem on Aug 16, 2011 16:55:41 GMT -5
Daenien shook his head. "No need. In his last six days he was in enough pain to repay every inch of injury he inflicted on me for a lifetime." A slow grin crossed his face. There was something insane in his expression, though an observer wouldn't be able to tell exactly what it was
If you say so, cuz. He wanted to tell you about the stash of cash he kept secret, but hey, I don't need it... The skeleton tipped his hat and began to walk away.
-------------------------------------------------
Useful? Ha. He sighed.
You could kill the man who killed me and find a priest to sanctify this putrid earth around me. That's how you could be useful.
(If you want to continue this, I'll move it to a new thread.)
Of all the graveyards in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine.
The Worgen pondered a moment before answering the ghostly visage of his dead brother. He mulled over the moment of his brother's demise. It was a celebratory night, the clan had won victory over enemy territory. An exhibition fight was scheduled before the night's festivities. Zaedus and Baelzor were chosen to have a mock fight to entertain the clan. Zaedus had shown up late, he was tying the remaining prisoners to the execution poles prior to the event, he had overlooked the knots on one of the prisoners, but he was too wrapped up in his haste. The fight was entertaining and going smoothly. The brothers complimented each other, their moves nearly mirrored. A great roar of excitement was issued after the festive battle. It was soon over when an enemy blade plunged into his brother's chest from behind. Zaedus was quick to dispatch the enemy Worgen, ripping his jaw from his head before savagely mauling him. He still remembered his dying brother's last statement.
The Scarecrow glared with Baelzor's eyes for a moment. Suddenly it leapt forward, knocking Zaedus to the ground, heavier and stronger than straw and burlap had any right to be. The Scarecrow growled, pinning him down, long claws extended from the fingertips of her glove hand. She positively leaked purple smoke, the fire behind her growing hotter. Your incompetence cost us more than my life, brother. Your forgetfulness was only a cap to all the times you failed the pack.
Whether he was telling the truth or lying to scare him was up to Zaedus. The claws neared Zaedus' jugular.
She is stopping me from ripping out your throat. My anger cools, if slightly. I will give you a chance. Your ancestors are here...they tell me of a place, far away from here. An altar that the very first Worgen built to honor the spirits of the wild. You will go there and fight your inner darkness.
The Scarecrow backed off, still sitting on his chest, but no longer holding him down.
This will honor the pack, and our ancestors. Do this and you will be forgiven. And we may both yet find peace.
At this moment, Skulduggery got back from his meeting in town. He saw the Worgen on his back on the ground, with Scarecrow straddling him. He took a puff of a cigarette and leaned on a mausoleum.
I'm sure there's a logical explanation for this.
Of all the graveyards in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine.
Post by Jerevan Languorem on Aug 17, 2011 10:31:41 GMT -5
Daenien nodded slightly, making no move to follow. Why should he? He didn't want his father's money; he hadn't wanted it when it had been reluctantly offered him as inheritance and he didn't want it now, even though he was running low on his own gold. He just stood there, staring at the grave for a while.
He was taken extremely off guard by the sudden movement. The slam to the ground nearly took all the air from his lungs. He stuggled to get loose a bit but to no avail, the creature's grip was true and strong/
Tell me...where..ugnhh...I can find this place.
Zaedus asked through struggling breaths as he continued to wrench free from this creature's grasp. The sudden sound of another voice alerted him to the new person.
Uhh...actually....if you believe in spirit conjuring and full out possession followed by aggression then yes...I believe there is an explanation.
Baelzor's voice growled and glared at Skulduggery for a moment before turning back to Zaedus.
To the north, over seven hills and past two cliffs. Follow the Canine star. You will find a circle of stone. You will know what to do then. Do not fail me.
Scarecrow threw her head back, exhaling deeply as purple smoke poured from her mouth and dissipated. Skul darted forward to catch her as she fell back. She looked around, scared for a moment. Her voice was her own.
W-what happened? What did I say?
Skul patted her head.
Shh. Whatever it was, it was for him, not us. Are you okay?
Yeah...yeah I think so. That felt weird. K...kind of good.
Mhmm. Need a smoke? Scarecrow said nothing and pulled her hat down over her face, embarrassed, as Skul lifted her to her feet. He chuckled and offered Zaedus a hand up.
The Stranger turned finally, facing Sabalae, stepping down off the casket. Half of his face was gruesomely burned away, blackened flesh barely covering exposed white bone. His jaw in particular was stripped on flesh on the right side. As he walked towards her, his dead eye, milky and silvery, glowed brightly.
If you do not succeed you will have wasted my time. And time is something I do not have. If he dies without being killed in my name, I am doomed. He stopped right in front of her, tall and imposing, looking down at her.
But if you succeed, everything that is mine is yours. My violin, my song, my power. Do you understand?
((When you're ready, make a thread in beyond wistvale. That goes for you too, Zaedus.
Of all the graveyards in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine.
Post by Sabalae'lochan Do'afin on Aug 20, 2011 19:54:15 GMT -5
A small grin spread across her face, slowly growing into a bigger one. Sabalea'lochan nodded her head in thought.
Yea I do believe I understand.
She turned away from the ghoulish stranger who's name she had still to learn. Names were not important though. Sabalae'lochan took a few steps and then stopped, glancing over her shoulder.
To the west lie the plains and hills of the Highlands. The man who murdered me and my family lives there, on a hill surrounded on three sides by a river. Kill him and bring me proof of his death.
Skulduggery entered the graveyard after a long journey. He carried over his shoulders a large black sack, limp but heavy. He walked to a small clearing, meant long ago to be a small rest area, with benches and flowerbeds, but now was overgrown and forgotten. Scarecrow was already there, sitting on a bench. Skul nodded to her.
Honey, I'm home. Scarecrow cocked her head, partially curious and partially suspicious.
Skul...what's in there? Skul threw the bag to the ground, exhaling with exertion.
My next paycheck.
He lit a cigarette as Scarecrow cautiously slid off the bench and opened the end of the bag, gasping at what she saw.
This is a body!
Yep.
What were you going to do with this?
Dragon parts sell well on the black market. Also, I thought his bones would make a nice chair.
He made a square with his bony fingers and looked through it around the graveyard, as if trying to mentally place it. Scarecrow put her palm on her face.
Skul...why are you doing this? Skul looked dumbfounded for a moment.
Dragon parts...sell well. And I wanted a new chair.
You can't...I...this was a person!
Was a person. He's not using his bodily organs. Why should I let them go to waste?
Because this was a person! You can't just...use him like some game animal! Skul tried to roll his eyes.
Darling, if we followed all of humanity's rules, we would never make a dime. They don't much like us, we don't much like them.
Skul was suddenly dragged down by his tie. Scarecrow pulled him down to her level and glared.
If you do this, what's next? Murder? Cannibalism? Necromancy? You...you promised, Skul. You're losing your humanity, and...it's scaring me.
Skul was silent. She let go of his scarf and he straightened, still looking down at her. He was conflicted; part of his mind saw no reason to not use the body while he had a chance. But then, the very small part of him that vaguely remembered what it was like to be human recoiled in disgust and fear. Until now he had ignored it.
Does it mean that much to you?
It means that you stay more like the person I remember.
Skul sighed, exasperated.
I don't remember the person you knew! I remember you, and that's it.
And you can't trust me? Skul stared.
Woman. I... He sighed again.
Alright. Alright, I did promise. I'm sorry. Scarecrow hugged his chest.
I need you, and I need you to remember who you were. Skul awkwardly returned it.
I know, I know. So...what are we doing with him? Scarecrow looked at the sack.
Burn him. Proper burial.
Of course. Why didn't I think of that? Skul hefted the sack onto the flat surface of a nearby stone casket and placed dead wood around it. He lighted it, letting it go up in purple flames. He stepped back and sighed.
I still feel like it's waste.
Well, you know...that's what you have to let go of. That's a good thing.
Skul was silent. He was still torn. Part of him felt...good for giving him a proper cremation, but at the back of his head he knew that the fire would strip the bones very, very well...
Last Edit: Aug 21, 2011 10:13:00 GMT -5 by Skulldon
Of all the graveyards in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine.