ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴍᴘᴇʀᴏʀ ᴜɴᴅʏɪɴɢ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
necrolord) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
deercountry2021-09-03 09:19 am
necrolord) wrote in deercountry2021-09-03 09:19 am
o1 . like an old enemy
Who: necrolord and you!
What: A necromancer comes to town.
When: Early September.
Where: The docks, Gaze, and anywhere.
Content Warnings: Undead, implied murder of NPCs, and all the usual warnings of this character.
(1) ghost ship.
Maybe, in your wandering, you've come to the harbor. There are fishing boats and trading vessels here among the dark, choppy waves.
One of them looks like astonishingly bad news.
If at any point you got dredged up by pirates, you will recognize it immediately. The hull is dark and oily; the sails are tattered and grim; the crew are all horribly corrupted. They are scaled and tentacled and barely-human. But they seem to have lost all aggression: they move in rote, mechanical ways, taking no notice of their surroundings.
Only one man stands out from them. He looks remarkably average: dark clothes, dark hair, dressed in a captain's coat of black and gold. What might stop you, though, are his eyes. They are black from edge to edge, sclera and all, with an oily shimmer that feels wrong to look upon.
"What do you think," says the captain, to whoever has stopped to stare. "Corpses or skeletons? Skeletons are a classic, but I do hate to get rid of the tentacles; loses the novelty."
(2) weak and weary.
Gaze is absolutely drenched in ravens. Dripping ravens. He's pretty sure ravens don't flock, typically, unless they are scavenging the dead on a battlefield; so that's promising. Regardless: there is a man before you trying to coax one of the ravens onto his wrist.
It perches there, and he looks briefly, utterly delighted. He reaches out a few fingers to stroke its feathery breast, and the raven lets him. His voice drops low, soft, somber:
"Is there balm in Gilead?" he murmurs. "Tell me; tell me, I implore."
The raven considers this. It cocks its dark little head towards him. It leans forward, the shaggy feathers of its throat bristling, to speak.
FUCK OFF, croaks the raven. It pecks the Emperor Undying on the forehead, takes a shit, and smacks him with a wing on its way out.
The man, left in the wreckage of this situation, does something vaguely impressed with his eyebrows. He chews his lip. He says, "Welp."
Then he turns to you, the poor sap who witnessed this, and spreads his hands in defeat.
"Worth a shot," he says. "Did you know the collective term is an unkindness of ravens? I see why."
(3) wildcard.
[ Happy to match formatting! ]
necrolord and you!What: A necromancer comes to town.
When: Early September.
Where: The docks, Gaze, and anywhere.
Content Warnings: Undead, implied murder of NPCs, and all the usual warnings of this character.
(1) ghost ship.
Maybe, in your wandering, you've come to the harbor. There are fishing boats and trading vessels here among the dark, choppy waves.
One of them looks like astonishingly bad news.
If at any point you got dredged up by pirates, you will recognize it immediately. The hull is dark and oily; the sails are tattered and grim; the crew are all horribly corrupted. They are scaled and tentacled and barely-human. But they seem to have lost all aggression: they move in rote, mechanical ways, taking no notice of their surroundings.
Only one man stands out from them. He looks remarkably average: dark clothes, dark hair, dressed in a captain's coat of black and gold. What might stop you, though, are his eyes. They are black from edge to edge, sclera and all, with an oily shimmer that feels wrong to look upon.
"What do you think," says the captain, to whoever has stopped to stare. "Corpses or skeletons? Skeletons are a classic, but I do hate to get rid of the tentacles; loses the novelty."
(2) weak and weary.
Gaze is absolutely drenched in ravens. Dripping ravens. He's pretty sure ravens don't flock, typically, unless they are scavenging the dead on a battlefield; so that's promising. Regardless: there is a man before you trying to coax one of the ravens onto his wrist.
It perches there, and he looks briefly, utterly delighted. He reaches out a few fingers to stroke its feathery breast, and the raven lets him. His voice drops low, soft, somber:
"Is there balm in Gilead?" he murmurs. "Tell me; tell me, I implore."
The raven considers this. It cocks its dark little head towards him. It leans forward, the shaggy feathers of its throat bristling, to speak.
FUCK OFF, croaks the raven. It pecks the Emperor Undying on the forehead, takes a shit, and smacks him with a wing on its way out.
The man, left in the wreckage of this situation, does something vaguely impressed with his eyebrows. He chews his lip. He says, "Welp."
Then he turns to you, the poor sap who witnessed this, and spreads his hands in defeat.
"Worth a shot," he says. "Did you know the collective term is an unkindness of ravens? I see why."
(3) wildcard.
[ Happy to match formatting! ]
no subject
She tapped her lips and nodded to his question. She wasn't quite sure she'd use the phrase 'veteran of the nightmare' to describe her status, but she had been there over a year, so she supposed that she knew her way around it to an extent.
I've seen a few things, yes.
What did you want to know besides squid stuff?
no subject
He says it quite seriously, almost somber. Then he turns to look out over the water, as though hoping to spot whatever had drawn her out here. The ocean remains barren and stormy as ever.
"But I hope I'm not keeping you from anything vital," he adds, politely. "Waiting for a ship to come in?"
no subject
Hell no.
Emerald would come or wouldn't today. There would be people to greet her if need be. She'd be fine, so she could put on appearances. A quick shake of her head and she was typing again.
Nothing vital.
I'm not the sort to know what to volunteer though.
So ask a question and I'll answer if I know it.
...and felt like answering as well.
no subject
He drums his fingers again, considering, and decides on: "You mentioned monsters. What sorts? Anything particularly nasty?"
no subject
A whole zoo's worth, honestly.
Most of them are very physical by nature, so not too much magic power.
Much more speed, claws, fangs, brute strength.
but there are exceptions.
no subject
no subject
Things are still fresh out the gate
So some of this isn't set in stone but that's about the size of it.
And always watch out if people start getting cursed.
Your neighbors can be more dangerous than the monsters if they go temporarily crazy.
no subject
"That's what I hear." He says it like they're agreeing about a weather forecast. "That Beasthood poses a constant risk. I'd not realized the other world was shadowed by the same threat."
no subject
One step at a time. She nodded.
In the nightmare, our minds got muddled sometimes.
It's only safe to assume the risk is as great here, as is that of turning into a monster.
Your world had that too, I take it?
no subject
Of course, when the soul is displaced from the body, something else can take hold. This sounds very much like that: gnashing teeth and tentacles and black ichor, all the staples of horror beyond even his control. If transformations of that sort are common here...
"I'll keep an eye out," he concludes, and looks back to his new friend. "Thank you."
no subject
But I'm pretty sure that you're picking that up all too quickly.
Those folks used to be regular people at one point I think.
She gestured in the direction of the tentacles and ichor. Definitely, it was making her assume that it was going to be a thing here, and folks were talking about 'beast' whatnot, so she was going to have to be ready for that.
No problem
Some information is basically free after all.
what's your name?
Neopolitan.