Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
Claris’ sepulchral voice rises from Stone Bear’s throat. The shaman’s possessed body nods fluidly before continuing. “Yes, you were careless. But I failed.”
“I see.” Malachite reacts to Claris’ spectral accusation by simply turning his back. His voice is cold. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it, since apparently it’s all MY fault. Anyone that gets killed by undead represents a personal error of mine.” His bitterness is clear, but Claris doesn’t seem to notice it. Her voice is unusually gentle as she responds.
“I’m pleased that you admit it’s your fault. You've shown a forthrightness and willingness to accept responsibility that I have found... wanting... in most of the Defenders past and present.” Since Stone Bear has no eyes, it is impossible to see whether she is looking at Nolin as she speaks. “Do not be too hard on yourself, however. You are not responsible for all undead, just the ones that you had an opportunity to personally kill.” Claris' head swivels towards Velendo.
“We attempted to confront the group of undead that was chasing you. The battle was still raging when I fell. I was horribly weakened by a shadow. The last thing I remember was being unable to move, all my muscles twitching uncontrollably, and the elven archer standing above me with a sneer on her face and her bow drawn.” Stone Bear’s body shudders involuntarily.
The group is silent for a moment, then Mara grimaces. “I know how that feels,” she mutters. Her tongue traces the raised scar in the back of her throat where Arballine’s bone arrow almost killed her.
“I’m sorry, Claris,” offers Velendo quietly.
Claris’ voice becomes brisk and to the point. “Apologies don’t matter at present. Promises are more important than death.”
“How did you come to be here?” Velendo gestures with his arm at the hundreds of faint disturbances in the air, each one a restless spirit.
“When I was killed, I felt my spirit drawn here. It was almost as if an ocean tide had me, and I knew that if I came willingly I would be with others who could be allies. So I came.” She rubs Stone Bear’s eye sockets with one hand. “It hasn’t been very long.”
The group sits down on rubble and catches up on old times with Claris. Despite the fact that the pilgrim of Vindus is inhabitating someone else’s body, her presence seems eerily normal. They discuss the progress of the war, the confrontation with the hated Halcyon, the ejection of Teliez through yet another gate, and the group’s utter lack of a feasible battle plan for when they actually reach Nacreous. “I’m tremendously worried,” frets Velendo. “We have no idea of how the city is laid out or what sort of resistance we may encounter. We don’t know what their plans are regarding Imbindarla’s corpse, and whether there will even be anyone in the city when we arrive. For all we know, they’ll all be out devouring the goddess’ corpse at the site where she fell.”
Stone Bear’s face twists and twitches, and suddenly Claris is gone and the spirit of Saint Morak is looking at the group once again. “Then you need to find out for yourself. Have you decided?”
“Yes,” answers Velendo as he glances around at the group. “We need to make sure that our bodies here are safe, of course. But if you really can transport our spirits into Nacreous, it seems like too good a chance to miss.”
“Then we will try it.” Morak’s voice seems weary as he looks down at Stone Bear’s hands. “I will need this channeler at his full strength. He will be the one who brings you there and back. I can only show the way. You will displace some sort of undead when you arrive. Be ready for it.”
The group picks a handful of people to stay and guard the empty shells of flesh that the group will leave behind. Malachite, Priggle, Galthia, Cruciel and Burr-Lipp are chosen, assuring that there is little chance of anything happening to the abandoned bodies that can’t be competently dealt with. "I’m afraid I don’t have any choice,” comments Malachite. “My soul is too tightly bound to my flesh for me to inhabit an undead form.”
“And I’d only ruin things for everyone,” predicts Priggle. “Better not to send me at all.”
“Well, the four of us will keep your bodies safe,” promises Galthia to the others. “Don’t worry.”
“Five of us.” The voice comes from below.
“Thank you for that,” says Velendo as he places his hand on Galthia’s wiry shoulder. “We appreciate it.”
“Five of us!” Priggle stands up indignantly.
“What?” Velendo looks down at him confusedly as Galthia realizes his inadvertent gaffe.
“Right. Five of us.” The monk gives Priggle a reassuring and thin-lipped smile, but the deep gnome doesn’t look especially optimistic as he stumps over to a shadowy chunk of rubble to keep watch and ponder his fate. Velendo sighs and turns back to Stone Bear.
“So, what do we have to do?” It’s Stone Bear’s own voice that answers him.
“Set up any defenses and preparatory spells here, first. Then you need to gather around me. Hold hands.” Stone Bear begins to reach out with his soul to prepare for the journey.
I’ve been waiting for this, hisses his spirit guide Elder.
This will not be a natural place, warns the animal spirit. Do not expect the rules of the living world to apply.
I won’t, thinks Stone Bear to his guide, and suddenly all thought is forced from him as his soul contacts the source of spiritual power in this cavern. It’s like stepping into a lightning bolt; the voluntary sacrifice of Morak and his compatriots centuries ago has turned the cavern into a place of tremendous power. Stone Bear feels the light growing inside him, expanding far past the point where he feels he must burst with the pressure. His heart and mind sing with the energy, and instinctively he knows that this could kill him if he doesn’t disengage or find someplace to channel the light.
Now, whispers the ghost of Morak in his ear. Fly. With a tremendous effort, Stone Bear uses the energy to rip his soul free of his mortal body. With him he drags free the spirits of one ghost and four other mortals; he can feel the tug as their spirits separate from their flesh.
I will lead you, says Elder, and they spiral downwards into darkness.
--- o ---
Mara feels herself free from her body. She is flying, and it is a glorious feeling. Like luminous torches she can sense her friends around her. Then her flight slows and she sees a light snuff out. A second spirit disappears, then a third. Mara sees a shape in front of her, and she instinctively dives into it – only to be brutally and painfully rebuffed. Whatever she tried to enter, she didn’t have the willpower to force her spirit into it. The last of the lights is gone now, and she can feel her soul beginning to fray at the edges. Panic! Before the last of her strength is lost, Mara forces herself into another body nearby, one with less resistance and a more pliable form. As she feels cold and crawling flesh reform around her, she opens the body's gummy eyes.
She is lying on the ground, staring at a hazy ceiling far above her. Around her she sees six feral ghouls crouching and chewing with looks of near bliss on their jutting and fang-filled faces. She somehow knows that five of them are her friends and the sixth is the body she was just jettisoned from. But who is she? Against all of her better judgment Mara slowly looks down, and two things immediately become apparent.
The first is that she is in the body of a goblin zombie, not a ghoul.
The second is that her best friends are in the process of devouring her intestines.
To be continued…
“I see.” Malachite reacts to Claris’ spectral accusation by simply turning his back. His voice is cold. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it, since apparently it’s all MY fault. Anyone that gets killed by undead represents a personal error of mine.” His bitterness is clear, but Claris doesn’t seem to notice it. Her voice is unusually gentle as she responds.
“I’m pleased that you admit it’s your fault. You've shown a forthrightness and willingness to accept responsibility that I have found... wanting... in most of the Defenders past and present.” Since Stone Bear has no eyes, it is impossible to see whether she is looking at Nolin as she speaks. “Do not be too hard on yourself, however. You are not responsible for all undead, just the ones that you had an opportunity to personally kill.” Claris' head swivels towards Velendo.
“We attempted to confront the group of undead that was chasing you. The battle was still raging when I fell. I was horribly weakened by a shadow. The last thing I remember was being unable to move, all my muscles twitching uncontrollably, and the elven archer standing above me with a sneer on her face and her bow drawn.” Stone Bear’s body shudders involuntarily.
The group is silent for a moment, then Mara grimaces. “I know how that feels,” she mutters. Her tongue traces the raised scar in the back of her throat where Arballine’s bone arrow almost killed her.
“I’m sorry, Claris,” offers Velendo quietly.
Claris’ voice becomes brisk and to the point. “Apologies don’t matter at present. Promises are more important than death.”
“How did you come to be here?” Velendo gestures with his arm at the hundreds of faint disturbances in the air, each one a restless spirit.
“When I was killed, I felt my spirit drawn here. It was almost as if an ocean tide had me, and I knew that if I came willingly I would be with others who could be allies. So I came.” She rubs Stone Bear’s eye sockets with one hand. “It hasn’t been very long.”
The group sits down on rubble and catches up on old times with Claris. Despite the fact that the pilgrim of Vindus is inhabitating someone else’s body, her presence seems eerily normal. They discuss the progress of the war, the confrontation with the hated Halcyon, the ejection of Teliez through yet another gate, and the group’s utter lack of a feasible battle plan for when they actually reach Nacreous. “I’m tremendously worried,” frets Velendo. “We have no idea of how the city is laid out or what sort of resistance we may encounter. We don’t know what their plans are regarding Imbindarla’s corpse, and whether there will even be anyone in the city when we arrive. For all we know, they’ll all be out devouring the goddess’ corpse at the site where she fell.”
Stone Bear’s face twists and twitches, and suddenly Claris is gone and the spirit of Saint Morak is looking at the group once again. “Then you need to find out for yourself. Have you decided?”
“Yes,” answers Velendo as he glances around at the group. “We need to make sure that our bodies here are safe, of course. But if you really can transport our spirits into Nacreous, it seems like too good a chance to miss.”
“Then we will try it.” Morak’s voice seems weary as he looks down at Stone Bear’s hands. “I will need this channeler at his full strength. He will be the one who brings you there and back. I can only show the way. You will displace some sort of undead when you arrive. Be ready for it.”
The group picks a handful of people to stay and guard the empty shells of flesh that the group will leave behind. Malachite, Priggle, Galthia, Cruciel and Burr-Lipp are chosen, assuring that there is little chance of anything happening to the abandoned bodies that can’t be competently dealt with. "I’m afraid I don’t have any choice,” comments Malachite. “My soul is too tightly bound to my flesh for me to inhabit an undead form.”
“And I’d only ruin things for everyone,” predicts Priggle. “Better not to send me at all.”
“Well, the four of us will keep your bodies safe,” promises Galthia to the others. “Don’t worry.”
“Five of us.” The voice comes from below.
“Thank you for that,” says Velendo as he places his hand on Galthia’s wiry shoulder. “We appreciate it.”
“Five of us!” Priggle stands up indignantly.
“What?” Velendo looks down at him confusedly as Galthia realizes his inadvertent gaffe.
“Right. Five of us.” The monk gives Priggle a reassuring and thin-lipped smile, but the deep gnome doesn’t look especially optimistic as he stumps over to a shadowy chunk of rubble to keep watch and ponder his fate. Velendo sighs and turns back to Stone Bear.
“So, what do we have to do?” It’s Stone Bear’s own voice that answers him.
“Set up any defenses and preparatory spells here, first. Then you need to gather around me. Hold hands.” Stone Bear begins to reach out with his soul to prepare for the journey.
I’ve been waiting for this, hisses his spirit guide Elder.
This will not be a natural place, warns the animal spirit. Do not expect the rules of the living world to apply.
I won’t, thinks Stone Bear to his guide, and suddenly all thought is forced from him as his soul contacts the source of spiritual power in this cavern. It’s like stepping into a lightning bolt; the voluntary sacrifice of Morak and his compatriots centuries ago has turned the cavern into a place of tremendous power. Stone Bear feels the light growing inside him, expanding far past the point where he feels he must burst with the pressure. His heart and mind sing with the energy, and instinctively he knows that this could kill him if he doesn’t disengage or find someplace to channel the light.
Now, whispers the ghost of Morak in his ear. Fly. With a tremendous effort, Stone Bear uses the energy to rip his soul free of his mortal body. With him he drags free the spirits of one ghost and four other mortals; he can feel the tug as their spirits separate from their flesh.
I will lead you, says Elder, and they spiral downwards into darkness.
--- o ---
Mara feels herself free from her body. She is flying, and it is a glorious feeling. Like luminous torches she can sense her friends around her. Then her flight slows and she sees a light snuff out. A second spirit disappears, then a third. Mara sees a shape in front of her, and she instinctively dives into it – only to be brutally and painfully rebuffed. Whatever she tried to enter, she didn’t have the willpower to force her spirit into it. The last of the lights is gone now, and she can feel her soul beginning to fray at the edges. Panic! Before the last of her strength is lost, Mara forces herself into another body nearby, one with less resistance and a more pliable form. As she feels cold and crawling flesh reform around her, she opens the body's gummy eyes.
She is lying on the ground, staring at a hazy ceiling far above her. Around her she sees six feral ghouls crouching and chewing with looks of near bliss on their jutting and fang-filled faces. She somehow knows that five of them are her friends and the sixth is the body she was just jettisoned from. But who is she? Against all of her better judgment Mara slowly looks down, and two things immediately become apparent.
The first is that she is in the body of a goblin zombie, not a ghoul.
The second is that her best friends are in the process of devouring her intestines.
To be continued…
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