o4 . february catchall

[necrolord]

Who: necrolord and you!
What: Local necromancer is networking. Archives research, healing for lockjoint and self-mutilation, and more.
When: February.
Where: Archives, Lumenwood, streets of Trench.

Content Warnings: Skeletons and mentions of the self-mutilation curse. Note all the usual warnings of this character.

(1) research.

You've probably seen him around, by now. The man is something of a fixture in the Archives: he settles at an unremarkable table and proceeds to drown it in open books, scattered pages, notes, journals. He seems intent on skimming his way through half the library. Sometimes there's a girl, scrawny and dour with her face painted up like a skull, hovering at his elbow. Today, he's on his own.

He doesn't look like much. Simple clothes; bare hands, which suggests he's either confident or reckless, in a town that will titter at anyone who doesn't wear gloves; he looks fortyish and plain. Only one thing about him is remarkable: his eyes, black as oil from edge to unpleasant edge.

Today, he's amassed an odd collection of vials, bloodstones, and shards of bone. You might catch the sudden reek of Beast blood, which is alarmingly toxic to handle even with gloves; you might catch him weighing a huge, inhuman bone in the palm of his hand, looking thoughtful. If he notices your attention, he'll speak without looking up.

"Six months, and I'm still trying to puzzle out the basics."

(2) the skeleton plow.

[ On the 9th, a blizzard blows in. It leaves the town blanketed in a heavy weight of snow, and Trenchies come out with shovels and resigned expressions to scrape the streets clear.

God, who has places to be, finds this a touch inconvenient. He's meant to be in Lumenwood just now, playing Jesus on everyone's frostbite and having a generally pleasant morning. So he claps his hands, watches a dozen skeletons claw their way free of the frozen earth and pop out of the snow ("like daisies," he says to whoever is nearest) and then sets off across town with his helpful new posse.

Each skeleton moves as smoothly and politely as a human servant, with a speck of red light in each empty eye. God makes a little gesture, like a conductor with an orchestra; his servants' fingerbones fuse and spread. Their arms distort and lengthen. They each now wield a broad bone scoop, which looks somewhere between silly and horrifying.

The skeleton army sets to work shoveling snow, heedless of appalled bystanders. ]

(3) healing.

[ Maybe you're still suffering from Lockjoint, Sleeper. Maybe you've begun scraping your own skin away under this month's curse, trying to resist temptation, trying to resist the urge to confess.

It doesn't matter whether all the damage is hidden by your clothing, or whether you think you're doing a good job of masking your pain. Today you're near the gates of Lumenwood - maybe to get help for your own issues, maybe not - and there is a man here, who has just waved away a grateful Trenchie making conversation. He turns, tips his head in hello, and considers you. ]

Want a hand with that?

(4) wildcard.

[ Happy to match formatting! ]

Comments

[cryptograms]

[ The dice tower is such a time-honored tradition that Ford doesn't so much as blink when John swipes one of his sets for the sake of constructing one.

What does make him blink is when John specifically mentions a cross, since in his experience that's typically and specifically Christian iconography. It's something that strikes him as interesting and worth filing away for later.

For now, zombies are the more interesting subject. He's not surprised they have those in Willow's dimension, given some of the other things he's heard about Sunnydale. ]

Zombies aren't typically directed in our dimension. The spell I know just summons a whole horde of them that then do whatever they want - which is trying to eat people, usually. Losing control of them tends to be the default.

[frogfear]

Yeah, there's nothing holy about necromancy in my world. It's actually considered a really dangerous branch of magic there, because of the risk of things going really badly.

[She glances to their cleric almost apologetically.]

You already know that, though.

The only zombies I've seen at home were raised by a mask my friend's mom bought. It wasn't even set off by anything. It just kind of happened, and no one was in control, so they got really big into the violence and property destruction and stuff.

[necrolord]

[ He tips his head in appreciation to her apologetic look. Quite seriously, he says: ]

I'll count myself lucky that divine necromancy works as it does. I've never once seen a rampant zombie plague. In fact, there's something downright pleasant about seeing a mass of skeletons all moving in sync, like flocking birds.

[ He makes a whimsical hand gesture. ]

We'll see if I can get to that bit in the game.

[cryptograms]

[ Zombification mask, huh? ]

I'd like a chance to study something like that... Willow, could you let me know if you ever find it washed up on the beach?

[ That sort of thing happens sometimes, and if it does he wants first dibs. And hey, since they're on the subject anyway. ]

Are large groups like that something where each construct needs to be controlled individually? Or do they operate more like a hivemind?

[frogfear]

[...Ford, no.

Willow raises her eyebrows as he asks about studying the mask should it ever wash up on the beach.]

Kinda hoping that never happens. Buffy destroyed it anyway. So hopefully if it ever does wash up here, we won't have a bunch of violent zombies trying to get a hold of it.

[She glances over to their cleric at the comparison to birds. This conversation sure has gone places she didn't expect it to, but she'll at least try to be polite in spite of the comparison between flocking birds and skeletons not really landing.]

Huh. I, uh, guess I don't really have much experience with flocking skeletons.

[necrolord]

Depends on the caster. There are ways to reduce the individual thanergy demands...

[ He looks to Ford with amusement and what might be appreciation, and flicks Willow a smile for indulging him. ]

We'll talk necromantic theorem mathematics some other time. Where were we? I think it was back around to us— I'll stick with my magic holy fire.