IC: Skeleton Quest - Origins

[Guest 11456]

A room somewhere...

Twelve tables, eleven aranged in a circle around the twelfth...

On each of the eleven tables lies a skeleton...

Below each skeleton, under the table are various gear...

A man sits at the twelfth table busily pouring over tomes and volumes, and preparing alchemical substances...

...

Time passes...

...

Eleven skeletons awaken. They each get up from their table and instinctively grab the gear beaneath it. Then some of the skeletons become aware. Old abilities and skills awaken within them. They are somehow different. A man slumped over a table in the center of the room. The room is square. There is only one exit, a door, and it is closed. Near one of the skeletons is an unconscious dire rat. Various books are arrayed on the table with the man, as well as alchemical supplies.

Action!

 

[Pyrex]

Rothorm awakens, instinctively grabbing the case of javelins underneath the table and slinging them across his back.

Unsure what is going on, or if any of the others have gained the awareness he has, Rothorm moves to the center of the room to check the slumped-over man; trying to determine what has happened.

 

[Eluvan]

The skeleton is like any other. Slightly cracked and chipped in places, yellowed slightly in the time since the death of the man it used to be so integral to. It is largely covered by a voluminous robe, only the skull revealed as the hood of the robe lies flat underneath it. The robe signifies little. It is merely a draping over an inert object, like a sheet over a bed. The skeleton moves, lifting itself form the table and collecting a bag from underneath it. Still, this is of little real significance. The thing moves, but it does so mindlessly, along preprogrammed lines like a train running on its tracks. It is merely a mockery, a vulgar parody of life.

And then something changes. From void, awareness somehow begins to bud and blossom. Tentative at first; the thing gains awareness of its senses. And then, suddenly, explosively, there is sentience. There is knowledge, and self-knowledge, and identity, and critical thought, and desire and will. In an instant the bud of awareness has blossomed into a rose - a black rose, ripe with decay and stinking of putrescence. The skeleton's dead, empty eye sockets come alive in a gout of purple fire that quickly dies down to two steady flames, and the skeleton that now identifies itself as Ilsthyr looks briefly about itself and then pulls the deep hood of its robe over its skull and walks regally over to the central table.

Calmly, critically, he takes in the sight that greets him. Clearly at least one other of the skeletons in the room has, like him, attained sentience. No, he thinks instinctively, Not like me. My sentience is superior. If he had lips to smile with, he would smile - a cold, ironic, humourless smile. He writes the other skeleton off as a curiosity that there will be time to examine later, and in the meantime turns his attention to the body. Somehow he knows that it is his master, the one who made him.

Something plucks at his consciousness, and he turns his faculties to the task of analyzing the alien influence. Anger. Envy. Anger at the death of his creator, envy that the honour and pleasure of the act went to another. Suspiciously he eyes the other skeleton, wondering if it could be the perpetrator, but quickly he knows that it could not be so. The body has been dead for some time, and it seems that this other skeleton has arisen barely sooner than himself or the others that are now beginning to move. Unless this other skeleton is tricking him - and that is impossible. He would have seen through it.

Putting aside his feelings on his creator's death for now - another thing to think about later - he casts an eye over the things on the table, and his eye settles on the books. Knowledge. Power. Acting with utter self-assurance, he calmly begins to pick up the books one by one and drops them into his bag with a proprietary air. It is unfeigned; these things are his right, as he sees it.

OOC:
[sblock]Woah! That was a longer post than I thought it would be. Oh well. First post after all. I'll be briefer in future. [/sblock]

 

[orbitalfreak]

Averey, Druid

Green light flares in the eyes of a skeleton who is stained with exposure to the elements. As he becomes aware, he glaces around the room, seeing the other skeletons lying around, with a few moving already. So, even death is not the end for me. Seeing the scavenging rat at his side (likely knocked unconcious instinctively by Averey, judging by the toothmarks on his tibia), he thinks Your life is as entangled with the dead as mine is, my friend.

He attempts to rouse the rat, which he has formed an immediate bond with, and then looks around the room as he sits on his table. Noticing that he is the third skeleton to awaken, he decides to wait for the rest to wake, and see how things go from there.

 

[Lord_Raven88]

Looking around the room Scorn's gaze falls upon his dead master Curious, the master is dead shrugging his bony shoulders slightly Scorns goes about putting his equipment on I guess that means I'm free, but free to do what!.

Looking around at the other skeleton Scorn notices that he isn't the only Skeleton to have gained sentience, Scorns gaze falls upon the robed skeleton and watches as it picks up one of the masters books and puts it into it's bag. That will not do

Gazing around at the other motionless Skeletons "Don't just stand there like mindless slaves, pick up your equipment, we must find out who has destoryed out creator and destroy them" walking over to the robed skeleton Scorn slams his foot down onto the book it was about to pick up "We have more important things to do, than picking over the masters corpse" gazing around at the others and then back to the robed one "Why don't you do something useful like examining the tomes the master was using to find out what he was trying to do"

 

[Eluvan]

Ilsthyr makes no response at first but merely stares at Scorn, his skull hidden in the shadows of his hood but for the two purple flames that burn in its depths, staring out inscrutably. He has the vestigial urge to laugh at the ridiculousness of this newcomer, but the reflex is not present in his skeletal frame and he remains silent and unmoving. Finally he speaks, his voice resonating like the too-loud echo of a graveyard whisper. "What, precisely, do you think I was trying to accomplish? As an adept of the arcane arts, I am best qualified to study the texts of the 'master'." His voice veritably drips with condescending amusement over the last word. His first frame of reference for the dead man was indeed 'master', but he has already moved beyond that utterly. He acknowledges no master. Not now, and never again.

"As such," he goes on, "I am appropriating them for further study. If you wish to benefit from my enlightened view of the texts when I am finished, I suggest you cease your interference. If you wish to assert your dominance, I would reccomend imposing your belligerence on one of the mindless ones over there." He points at one of the shambling skeletons that as of yet has shown no sign of sentience. "I have little patience for it."

 

[Pyrex]

"...I am best qualified to study the texts of the 'master'."

Looking up from his examination of the body Rothorm responds, "If he was an arcanist that is likely. But that has yet to be determined."

 

[Eluvan]

"I know of no system of divine magic that relies on so many books, and I know of no system independent of arcane or divine power that allows for the animation of dead matter," Ilsthyr answers dismissively.

 

[orbitalfreak]

Averey, Druid

Speaking for the first time, Averey slowly says, "I don't know much about the arcane, or divine for that matter, but I do know that I have some questions. First, why are we dead? Second, why are we not STILL dead? Third, who are all you?"

 

[Pyrex]

"Given that we all appear to have died some time ago I suspect the answer to your first question is irrelevant. For your second, ask him." Rothorm responds, pointing at the unmoving corpse he's examining. "As to your third, my name is Rothorm."