Special Corpse Training Aug 27, 2019 4:19:08 GMT -5
Post by Gondus Fowel on Aug 27, 2019 4:19:08 GMT -5
After landing back down to the ground from the palace, Gondus ran as fast as he could. He ran away the moment he got the chance, away from the shining palace of destruction as battles continued to ensue up above, and diamond and clover wizards clashed on the ground and skies. There was too much noise, too many people, and nothing was making sense to him.
After the sheer stress on Gondus, mentally and magically, he found certain feats easier to use. His magic seemed to flow better, and he didn't have as much trouble chanting incantations when summoning the dead or manipulating the black ink substance. But also, he had acquired new collections to his arsenal of spells. Two new friends, freshly picked from the castle itself and both with more power than the regular corpses he could summon. One was a supposed ally, the other was not.
Situated in Kiten, the nearest town to where he originally was and probably still not very safe considering it was on the border of both regions, Gondus had hidden himself down a back-alley where it was dark and isolated. There was nobody else here, and he blended in well within the shadows. His grimoire was strapped to his back by some leather, a gift from a merchant a week ago after seeing the boy constantly drop the magic tome. Restless, the grimoire seemed to be overflowing with magic, it's pages sealed tight as it begged for Gondus to open it up and release the dead inside. It frightened Gondus slightly, but he still obeyed the magic, gently opening the book only for it to violently shake around as he did so.
Wraith mana poured out, kicking up a gust of wind as he held up his hands to protect his face from the dust and rubbish buffeting him. After a moment or two of strong currents and purple light, the mana had reformed into flesh and bone. Before him was a man, with paler skin than Gondus and black tribal tattoos along his arm. His hair was also black, but patches of it had fallen out from the decaying of his body. Where his mouth should have been was completely stripped of flesh, and revealed the bone structure of his jaw, and teeth sharper than any ordinary human. A golden mantle was attached to him still, but it was so torn and bloodstained that it had no magical properties anymore. Instead, it was just a symbol of the Golden Dawn, worn on the shoulders of an undead soldier - a terrifying reminder that magic knights, too, can fall victim to the icy clutches of death.
This special corpse stood in front of Gondus, unmoving and silent as his pitch black eyes watched him. This was the first time he had turned someone he had met when they were alive, seeing both sides of the coin. It was no different than before, but it made him think about life and death, and just how confusing the two were. But with Gondus around, could anyone really die properly? Surely he would make plenty of new friends, all with purpose...
Stepping towards the corpse, Gondus grabbed the golden fabric that he recognised from another wizard he encountered, gently lifting it up and seeing a name embroidered in small writing. Some of it had come off, but there was still a piece there."Pendragon."