It was the height of night, wind eerily silent, new moon hanging directly overhead, when the wolves smelt it.
The stench of death. At the bottom of a ravine, water running gently by, surrounded by endless foliage and the high and unforgiving bulk of scots pine. No animal would approach, besides those so empowered by Rigel. Death hung so thick in the air as to make the very world seem dead, and yet the man smiled. Diminutive, huddled over a boulder, blood flowing slowly down the stream, crippled beyond repair, and happy. A man of no regrets, no remorse, and no fear. A man of potential.
Rigel knelt over the man, speaking a tongue he knew not, yet could understand nonetheless.As he spoke, smoke curled from his mouth, billowing over his dying form, flowing through the wounds, orifices and very pores on his skin. Darkness seemed to seep and fester in the man, though a man he was no longer. "Awaken brother," he whispered "and live your life to it's fullest."
Something snapped. Maybe the world itself protested, maybe death was such a part of this mans being that living created an internal dissonance. Whatever it was, as his eyes opened once more, his face seemed to shrink, bones becoming visible, flesh becoming gaunt, and pulled taut. And for all the man smiled, an offputting gesture with far too much teeth, the world seemed just that much darker, more fearsome, less hopeful. And as the very dead started to stir in unrest, Rigel walked away, his wolves dissipating in the same smoke that carved this new being into existence.
---
"Death apparently does not become me this day. But I may yet become death. Hello all, my name is Serenion. But I think Mortis a much more fitting moniker. I hope all goes well?"
Name: Serenion
Alias: Mortis
Appearance: Currently a horridly pale and gaunt man, skeleton visible in multiple places
Class: Priest
Abilities: Bind the Will: Can seize the will of any mortal not already bound and press it into the Mantari’s service.
Domain (The world around you seems darker and scarier, and whispers of the dead seep through)
Attributes: Strength:2 Agility:2 Intelligence:6 Willpower:6 Perception: 4 Presence:6
Wealth/Assets: 0
Influence:0
Worshipers/Power:0
Family:0
Skills: none
1 Year travel
2 years finding a wife and producing a child
4 years gaining a cult (240 members, 6 worshipper points. 1 on bind the will improvement, 3 on domain improvement, 1 on intelligence, 1 on willpower)
3 years developing my bone crafting skill
+1*2 intelligence
7 years learning death magic + finding elephant graveyard
1 year imbuing wife
2 years teaching wife
The branches around him creaked, and almost malevolent and sinister sound to anyone else. But this was the world to him. For better or worse.
The people here referred to the land as Rus, a land of snow, forest and wild animals. The people here were hardy, and for all the horror his very presence brought, the grim hunters and stalwart warriors seemed to mind little. A land like this bred a resistance to the evil of the world. A trait he'd one day like to cultivate. Still, for all he was welcomed into homes and told of as a scary tale to keep children safe, he couldn't linger. Mortis knew his efforts must lie somewhere warmer, and much more in danger.
------
The sun bore down an almost constant haze, sand glimmering and glittering like infernal gold, the final ire of many a dead man. The rolling dunes, cutting winds, and biting glare of a passing bird seemed ever present. An aching reminder of his almost perpetual curse. Bleak, desolate, harsh and unyielding. An irony most fitting for a man who's predominant personality could be described in exact opposite terms. And very soon, with the same smile lingering, the day turned to night. And onward he walked, ever looking forward, ever seeing the future.
Something caught Mortis' gaze as he wandered, now nearing the bottom of the Sahara. The metallic glint and shimmer of a dagger catching the sun, as well as what appeared to be a leather glove stuck out of the sand. Closer inspection lead to a much more disturbing and gruesome sight, at least to anyone else's eyes. Not a glove, but a hand, baked in the sun and suffocated by the golden dusted tomb around him. Dessicated, tanned, and stiff to the touch. Some would retch, others shield their eyes. Mortis just made a mental note, took the hand, and continued south.
------
The congolese jungles were a close approximation to hell. Hot and humid almost beyond bare-able, even to the immortal. Dense and tough foliage, an array of poisonous and predatory creatures, a vast array of distracting and confusing noises. All of this was made worse by Mortis' unnatural presence, making the noises more menacing, the creatures seemingly more agitated, the path unusually winding, and even the constant pools of water seeming to reflect unseen horrors at their edge. A struggle, plain and simple, for anyone. The journey was not pleasant, easy, or one he wished to go on again. But the smile remained, thinking of what layed past the leafy horrors around him.
------
Name: Serenion
Alias: Mortis
Appearance: Currently a horridly pale and gaunt man, skeleton visible in multiple places
Class: Priest
Abilities: Bind the Will: Can seize the will of any mortal not already bound and press it into the Mantari’s service. Ties the mortal to my domain, making them resistant or outright immune to it's detrimental effects.
Domain: 3: A wholly unnatural darkness blankets your domain, no amount of light piercing through, the ghostly images of the dead seeping cold light providing the only visibility. Death itself seems to suffuse this area, as those dead who find themselves blanketed in your domain arise, and death magic is easier to grasp. Even those long dead find themselves whispering long forgotten, and often sad secrets. This land is cold, dark and inspires fear in the true darkness of the world. Dead mortals in the area slowly restore, old wounds, decay and damage undoing themselves over time.
Attributes: Strength:2 Agility:2 Intelligence:10 Willpower:8 Perception: 4 Presence:6
Wealth/Assets: 0
Influence:0
Worshippers/Power: 240 Worshippers
Family: Kagiso 38 (F), Death Imbued
Nomusa (F), 17, 5/6
Skills: Death Magic 13 (Legendary)
Bone Carving 6 (Expert)
Magic Teaching 2 (Competent)
Author
Topic: Sindari: Immortals (Read 32708 times)